#just his silent way of saying he loves you and is always thinking of you

[gojoest]

FIRST WORD — girl dad!gojo satoru

girl dad satoru, established relationship (you’re married, it is indicated that you have two other kids besides the little one that appears in this drabble), nanami cameo, suggestive credits at the end (breeding hinted, just to be safe), sry this lowkey sucks + not proofread, i typed it out in 10 mins but i hope you enjoy!

satoru is trying really hard to get his little daughter to say “papa”, but oh well

“come on, my life — say it”

satoru, crouched down before the baby chair where his little daughter is sitting, a picture of his face in one hand while the other alternates between pointing at the photo and then at his face, slowly repeats, over and over, with utmost perseverance and patience, the first word he wishes his little one would utter—

“pa-pa”, he carefully speaks, syllable by syllable. “pa-pa”, and again. “come on, baby — at least you don’t betray me, i know you’re papa’s girl — come on now, say it”, he pleads.

this has been going on for the past few weeks.

your entire house currently looks like the room of a teenager where it’s posters on the walls and little trinkets on the shelves, courtesy of heavy hyperfixations. but instead of posters and trinkets it’s your husband’s face, everywhere. kitchen, living room, hallways, your baby’s room — every-single-where and every-single-surface and wall has the photograph of your husband’s face on it. he even purchased custom-made plushies and toys of himself, some of which are hanging from the musical baby mobile above your daughter’s crib — but instead of music it’s his voice, teaching his toddler through made-up songs how to say ‘papa’.

“satoru, don’t you think this is a little bit, um— “, you once brought up, pausing to clear your throat, trying your best to sound softer while you say this. knowing how sensitive he is about the matter, and how devoted to have this innocuous win — “…too much? hm, love? it’s like you’re… brainwashing the baby…”

lips immediately pursed, satoru pouted under his nose — “easy for you to say, our two other kids said ‘mama’ first — effortlessly, at that. let me have this one at least”

okay, you shrugged and backed off.

and this morning, as you sipped on your coffee, you silently watched your husband in the kitchen — kneeled down before the baby chair, going about his educational routine.

after he was done with the photos, he took your daughter’s hand and pressed her fingers on his lips, while he kept repeating the word ‘papa’. he said that this method allows the baby to see the way your mouth moves as you speak but also hear and feel the sound all at the same time. (he sure has read a lot of things on the internet)

but your little one remained silent, only giggling here and there as she poked around her father’s face, completely refusing to cooperate with him despite his desperate attempts.

it is an endearing sight, really. part of you felt pity for your husband, you cannot lie. he was trying so hard, and for what...

all of a sudden,

the doorbell rings.

“i’ll take it”, you quickly pad over to open the door.

it’s nanami — dropping by with some baked treats for the kids, as he often does. your children love him a lot. during dinner gatherings he always sneaks away to read them bedtime stories. even though he doesn’t look like the type on the surface, he sure has a soft spot for children. and, truth be told, they are all naturally drawn to him as well. maybe it’s his calm demeanor and the sense of safety he brings along with his presence.

“ah, thank you — these look so delicious, i am sure the kids will die for a bite”, you chime, as you guide him into the kitchen.

“oh— nanami, it’s you”, satoru casually points out without even turning his head to greet him, his eyes glued on his little daughter… who seems to be looking elsewhere, past her father…

…at nanami.

a bit bothered by that, satoru shifts a little bit to the side, to block the view — to, once again, be the main focus in his daughter’s eyes. but, alas…

she tilts her head, googly eyes glancing at the blond man behind her father.

she opens her mouth, a giggle first escapes, and then—

“na-na—”, she pauses… “—mi” — a beam of laughter and her hands reaching forward, pointing at nanami.

silence in the kitchen befalls.

you cover your mouth with a hand, trying to prevent yourself from bursting into laughter. it’s tragic but funny at the same time, and you know — in just a few seconds the real baby in this room will not be your daughter.

“nanami”, satoru slowly stands up, shoulders hanging low and voice — monotone and stern. “get out”

p.s.: satoru makes a scene. he is absolutely devastated. you have to drag him away and pick up the pieces and calm him down. and, of course, he thinks — the only way to make things better is to give him another child. a new opportunity…and you need to get down to business, now. while nanami is babysitting downstairs.

[enviedear]

LOVING ALONE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | jason having (what he thinks is) an unrequited crush

CW | lovesick!jason with issues accepting love, just-a-buncha fluff. 1.6k words. 🎧ྀི

your eyes flicker to your window for the hundredth time in ten minutes. there's an attempt at forcing your gaze back to your book, but your concentration on it has long since shattered. it's impossible to concentrate on anything other than him, perched on your fire escape right outside your window—JASON TODD.

he thinks he’s so subtle, as if you'll never notice when he parks himself on your fire escape like some sort of gargoyle. you smile slightly at the thought, heart pounding a little faster than it should. a condition that makes itself apparent far too much when your mind drifts to him.

he's silently taken on a sort of sworn protector role, separate from his nightly redhood rendezvous. you count yourself lucky to have his presence around your domicile so often. you truly never got over the culture shock that was gotham, but jason helps. even if he decides to go to great lengths to try and hide it.

outside, in the frigid and everpresent putrid gotham air, jason todd sits in complete rumination. he has goosebumps marring his arms beneath his leather jacket, but he pays them no mind. no, he's far too busy listing all the reasons he should just leave, why sitting outside under the guise of guard is utterly stupid, but still, he sits.

he runs a gloved hand through his hair, tugging slightly. he feels pathetic. how can he meet death, the criminally insane, survive things that would kill most—and somehow, he's shocked still with nerves at the very idea of knocking on your window.

in his head he has it all pictured, if it went perfectly. you'd come to the window, a confused look on your face until you spot him. he'd pull some stupid line, something he heard dick use once, and it'd make you laugh. he loves hearing that, more than anything. then he'd crawl in—spend the rest of his night with you, doing anything. and in his head, that's perfect.

but the underbelly of that dream keeps him rooted to your fire escape. to him, there's no way you could ever share his sentiments. you refer to him as a friend and no matter how much he wishes for something else, he can't change reality. can't force himself to make something more out of what you give him.

between the blood on his hands and the rage he can never seem to fully rid himself of, he's come to the aimless conclusion that you deserve someone better. someone more delicate, someone who doesn’t live with one foot in the grave. but every time you laugh or shoot him an easy smile, it gets easier to admit that he’s too far gone.

you deign the separation foolish, but still, you give yourself one more attempt at reading before you put your book to the side. really—you just wish he’d just say something. you’ve thought about saying something yourself, more times than you care to admit, but the timing never feels right. besides, there’s a part of you that wonders if jason even realizes you’ve been waiting out for him.

every time you joke or tease, you can see some struggle behind his eyes. as if he wants to let go and laugh with you, but something—himself—holds him back. your very own sisyphus—his very own boulder to carry up a labyrinthine mountain.

maybe it’s his past and the walls he’s built around himself, but you’re over him expecting you to be afraid of him. you wonder how much more evident you need to be. if anything, you wish he could see himself the way you do—intense, yes, but also loyal and good, even if he doesn’t believe it.

he proves it every night when he stands watch outside your shitty apartment.

with a sigh, you stand up from the couch, moving toward the window. he’s always so close, and yet there’s a distance he keeps in place—you’ve had enough of that.

you slide the window open, leaning out just enough to catch him mid-step as he’s about to leave—flee moreso. “going somewhere?”

he turns on his heels, red helmet in his hands, "figured you'd be asleep."

you hum, eyes narrowing, "already? it's six pm on a saturday."

“just didn’t want to bother you.” he admits, voice low, almost timid. he doesn’t meet your eyes, and it’s frustrating how hard he tries to hide, even from you.

“you’re not bothering me, jason.” you say softly, leaning on the window frame. “you never do.”

jason looks at you then, something uncertain flickering in his gaze. his lips dart out to quell his chapped lips—you hold his stare, hoping he can see what you’re trying to tell him, wordlessly.

that you want him here, that you’ve been wanting him all along.

“i can stop by for a few.” he finally says, adding a shrug to the end of his sentence.

you smile, opening the window fully as invitation. jason crawls in, a rather innocuous task but given his stature, always surprises you.

“i have pizza and brownies. saturday special.” you tell him, a persuasion. you want him to eat.

“sounds good.” he’s in the middle of slipping out of his redhood garb, clad in a skintight athletic tee and his cargos—mask sitting on your coffee table. “i’m gonna change in the bathroom, i’ll be right back.”

before his fingers can grab his duffle you start, “why don’t you shower here? i know you don’t have any of your usual stuff but—”

he cuts you off, “i couldn’t. i’m already eating your food…and using your fire escape as a landing spot.”

“jason, seriously. shower here. i’ll heat up the food and put on some tv. it’s a saturday.” you’re not one to beg, but this is treading the line.

his shoulders sag, but there’s a small smile on his face, “thanks, sweetheart. you’re too nice to me.”

his tone is sarcastic, self-deprecating, and that annoys you slightly. you want him to know that he’s welcome here, wanted. needed.

“i like it when you’re here, you know.” you feel like sparking a match, timid flames sparkling. “i miss you when you’re gone and everything.”

he quirks a brow, "what are you tryin' tell me?"

you feel silly at his question, the air around you seemingly buzzing. jason peers down at you with a raised brow, as if he's genuinely confused by the sentiment. as if he's baffled by the notion he could be someone to miss.

your breath hitches as you debate your next move. you're walking a thin line between saying too much and not enough. you could play it safe, keep your cards close to your chest—or you could be honest. near painfully so.

when you find your voice, it comes out soft, "i'm trying to say that i like it better when you come inside instead of sitting on my fire escape. i don't want to be a landing spot for you, i want... more."

he clears his throat, shifting on his feet, "you don't want that." he seems to take a step back, not physically, but mentally. his face goes still, chest breathing even, mind anywhere but the present.

you groan, annoyance evident, "i do though. you have to see that in some way by now." you step towards him, "sometimes i think you feel the same way."

jason’s gaze flickers toward the floor, and for a moment you wonder if you’ve crossed the line, if he’ll pull away entirely. but then he looks up, eyes darker, severely sincere. “you have no idea what you’re asking for.” he cautions, but his voice is lower, almost a whisper.

you smile softly, finally letting your hand touch his arm, feeling the solid warmth beneath. “maybe i do. maybe i’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

“don’t say that unless you mean it,” he murmurs, his voice rough.

“i mean it.” you reply, sincere in your admission. “i’m not afraid of you, jason. i’m afraid of what happens if you keep shutting me out.”

he grumbles at that, a half-willed attempt to argue against your point. you stay quiet, urging him to continue where you left off. you watch his face contort through a realm of emotions—confusion, fear, and then, thinly masked and wistful poignancy.

“i’m not shutting you out. if anything, i’m protecting you.” he finally decides, arms crossing over his chest, eyes scanning the wall behind you. nervous.

you shake your head, fingers reaching for his twisted expression, finding home on his pink-tinted cheeks. “i don’t need you protecting me from you. i need you to want me as bad as i want you.”

your words are bold, maybe overconfident, but you mean them to the fullest extent. you’re so beyond exhausted of attempting to disregard or conceal your feelings. even if jason’s not, you think he deserves to know.

jason todd looks you over. his eyes raking you up and down like you’re some high valued product—and he’s unsure wether to take the bid or let it pass by. in the time you’ve known him, even in the thralls of his vigilante persona, he’s studied things. eyes pointedly and silently assessing his situation, no matter how far removed he is from his upbringing—his “father” lingers in his antics.

finally, he chuckles, low and more timid than usual, “you don’t know how badly i want you, sweetheart. but…” he stops himself, and you’re grateful because you would have done it yourself if he had continued on with some rebuttal. “fuck. you’re all i want.”

it comes out like a beg, pleading that rarely works it’s way onto his features. you smile, and pull him closer. his arms uncross, opting to gingerly hold your shoulders. still timid, unsure.

“you should know how much you mean to me. you do such a good job of showing me…keeping watch and never letting me eat alone. it’s sweet, you’re sweet. i want you to know it.” you keep his gaze when you speak, hopefully drilling each sentiment permanently into his consciousness.

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, “i believe you. swear. i just… this is new. i never thought…” he falters off, equal parts unsure and dumbstruck. “i like you a lot. i didn’t know you felt the same, sweetheart.”

you grin, inching your face closer to his, “well i do. deal with it.” your tone is teasing, playful. pulling him back into the safety of reassurance—what you want him to anticipate from you.

it seems to put jason back in his element, “oh? you have demands? usually that’s my thing.”

you laugh, “could always be our thing. the demanding couple—sounds inspired, don’t you think?”

“something like that…” his smile is soft, “but for now, i think i’m fine with just being yours.” he says it so earnestly, no thought to it. just the truth, and it feels damn good. it envelops you just the same as his arms, wraps you up in utter victory. love hard fought—and it feels so sweet.

[cressidagrey]

Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol) 

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now. 

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense. 

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell. 

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough. 

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly. 

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now. 

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister. 

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with. 

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds. 

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth. 

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers. 

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine. 

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising. 

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?” 

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her. 

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her. 

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge. 

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away. 

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed. 

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily. 

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean. 

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood. 

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.” 

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta? 

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that?  Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?" 

Rhys grimaced, shaking  his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?" 

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it. 

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this. 

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly. 

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.” 

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel." 

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years. 

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.” 

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either. 

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated."  Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.” 

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated. 

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate. 

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these  looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes. 

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either. 

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was. 

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.” 

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?” 

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said. 

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up. 

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.  

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow. 

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?” 

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat. 

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again. 

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel. 

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face. 

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love. 

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love. 

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her. 

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion. 

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love. 

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer. 

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted. 

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal. 

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige. 

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently. 

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things… 

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked. 

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it… 

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying. 

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long.  And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort. 

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs. 

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel. 

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly. 

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting. 

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before. 

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest. 

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. 

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister. 

Feyre could just stare. 

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were. 

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know. 

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him. 

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers. 

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself. 

The reactions were immediate. 

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter. 

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say. 

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion. 

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them. 

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together. 

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him. 

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened. 

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation. 

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things. 

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach. 

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach. 

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue. 

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well. 

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth. 

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them. 

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked. 

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. 

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said. 

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded. 

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight. 

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways. 

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight. 

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana. 

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips. 

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist. 

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction. 

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and  Cassian actually growled at him.  Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world. 

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.” 

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs. 

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.” 

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears. 

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards. 

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too. 

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his. 

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently. 

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.” 

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered. 

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.” 

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully. 

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel. 

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Lucky you're hot - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hiiiii!!! your fluffs are so cute 😔🤍 i have a request if you dont mind writing it. maybe one where reader came home from work and then after an hour or so lewis just come barging in saying that reader has been home for a while but didnt even cuddle him once?😔😔😔😭" - anon

warnings: none, it's fluff through and through.

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Needy and cute Lewis and sassy Lewis come hand in hand for me, so yeah, hope you like it ❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Why did I agree to this meeting? It was a thought I’d had at least a dozen times today.

I kicked the front door shut behind me, tossing my bag onto the couch without even looking. My feet were halfway out of my heels as I practically flew down the hall toward the study.

I should’ve been curled up on the couch by now, probably in one of Lewis’ hoodies, something hot in my hand, and maybe, just maybe, thinking about ordering dinner.

But no, I was about to dive headfirst into yet another Zoom call.

The joys of modern life.

Ten minutes. Just survive ten minutes, and then you can call it a night.

I slid into the chair, popping open my laptop with a level of enthusiasm I definitely didn’t feel. Clicking into the meeting, I gave the screen a once-over.

Same old faces. I hit mute, leaned back, and settled into my usual routine—pretending to pay attention while my mind wandered elsewhere.

Perfect. Camera on, mic off, brain in neutral.

I was practically a Zoom ninja at this point. As long as I nodded occasionally and didn’t zone out too hard, no one would even notice I wasn’t listening.

The meeting droned on, voices blending into a background hum as I half-heartedly doodled on a notepad. Something about deliverables, reports, something-or-other that I wasn’t going to remember in an hour.

My eyes kept drifting toward the clock at the bottom of the screen, counting down the minutes until I could escape.

I barely registered the sound of the door creaking open behind me. My brain was too fried to even care. I assumed it was the wind.

Or maybe Lewis moving around the house. Whatever it was, it wasn’t important enough to break my focus—or lack thereof.

Then, I heard footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and way too familiar.

Before I could fully process what was happening, a very large, very sweaty figure appeared in the doorway and my stomach dropped.

Not now. And not like that.

“Excuse me, love” Lewis announced, his voice filled with dramatic offense. “You've been home for an hour, and not one cuddle? I’m feeling deeply neglected.”

I froze, my fingers tightening around the pen in my hand. I shot him a wide-eyed look, silently screaming at him to go away. But he wasn’t even looking at me.

No, this man was strolling into the room as if I wasn’t in the middle of an important meeting. Or, you know, on camera.

Lewis, completely unbothered, strolled over, looking every bit the part of an Olympic athlete straight out of battle—glistening with sweat, muscles still tense from whatever torturous workout he’d just finished.

And for some reason, pouting.

“Lewis” I hissed under my breath, barely daring to move my lips. “I’m in a meeting.”

He just blinked at me like he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation and I saw the gears in his head turning.

But, without a care in the world, he walked over and bent down, leaning in close, lips puckered in the most exaggerated, dramatic fashion possible.

I raised my hand to stop him, but it was too late. His lips landed on mine with a loud, unmistakable smack.

The kind of kiss that would’ve been cute—if it weren’t for the fact that I was very much on camera, in a professional setting, with a dozen or so people watching.

“LEWIS,” I whisper-yelled, my eyes wide with horror as I frantically glanced at my screen.

Sure, my mic was muted, but my camera definitely wasn’t.

There, staring back at me, was a grid of stunned, amused faces, watching the world’s most casual Zoom crash unfold before their eyes.

Great, this was really happening.

I held up a hand to the screen, as if that would somehow undo what just occurred.

“Uh… sorry, everyone,” I said, my voice coming out more flustered than I intended. “Apparently, I’ve been home for an hour and, uh… neglected someone.”

Yeah, I was never living this down.

That’s when I noticed it—half the people on the call were starstruck. Eyes wide, jaws dropped, as if Lewis Hamilton walking into my study had somehow shattered the laws of the universe.

It got better and better.

Apparently, some of them hadn’t put two and two together that my Lewis Hamilton was the multiple world champion of F1, Lewis Hamilton.

Lewis, still completely oblivious to the chaos he’d caused, blinked at the screen and it took him a second—an agonizingly long second—before he finally seemed to register the fact that we had an audience.

“Oh,” he said, blinking again. “Uh… Hi, everyone.”

The laughter was immediate. My entire screen lit up with amused faces, and I could feel the heat rising in my neck.

I wanted to crawl under the desk and hide forever, but Lewis? He just stood there, completely unbothered, one arm casually draped over my shoulder like this was all part of the plan.

One of my colleagues cleared their throat, clearly trying - and failing - to hold back laughter.

“You know, Y/n,” one of them said, smirking, “if you ever need to end a meeting early, just invite Lewis.”

The rest of the group erupted in laughter again, and I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

Real funny, dude. Hilarious.

I noticed some of the newer faces on the call still looking at Lewis like they couldn’t believe their eyes. A few of them nudging each other in the chat, their messages popping up on the side of my screen.

“Wait… is that Lewis Hamilton?” one person wrote, followed by another typing, “How did I not know she’s dating him?!” and a string of heart-eye emojis.

Great. Just what I needed. Let’s add a little office gossip into the mix while we’re at it.

Lewis squeezed my shoulder, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of my head. As if I wasn’t already mortified enough, I thought.

I shot him a look, my eyes narrowing into a silent warning. Don’t push your luck, Hamilton.

But all he did was smirk back, leaning in closer, like he was about to kiss me again.

“I swear to God,” I muttered under my breath

“I missed you” he whispered back, the teasing lilt in his voice making it impossible for me to stay mad.

I glanced back at the screen, my colleagues still chuckling amongst themselves. Okay, that was definitely the universe telling me to call it a day.

Clearing my throat, I forced a smile and addressed the group. “Right,” I said, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. “I think we’ve covered everything, haven’t we?”

A few of them nodded a little too eagerly, clearly ready to wrap things up.

“Yeah,” someone chimed in, “we’ll, uh, let you get back to your important duties.”

The laughter returned, and I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes again.

With one final, hasty goodbye, I clicked out of the meeting and slammed my laptop shut with a little more force than necessary.

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” I said, turning to Lewis, who was now looking far too pleased with himself.

He grinned, that signature, disarming smile. “Fixed your day?” he said, pulling me into his arms with ease.

I let out a long, dramatic sigh but didn’t resist when he wrapped his arms around me. “Fixed it, huh?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Meeting’s over, and now I get my cuddles.”

This man… I swear.

I thought, though I couldn’t help but smile as I rested my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re lucky you’re hot” I mumbled into his chest; my voice muffled by the fabric of his still sweaty shirt.

He chuckled, his hand gently stroking my back. “Lucky, huh?”

“Very” I whispered, closing my eyes and letting myself melt into the warmth of his embrace.

Because, truth be told, as much as Lewis drove me absolutely insane, he was still the one person I couldn’t imagine my life without.

And yeah, maybe I’d never live down the fact that he’d barged into my meeting demanding kisses, but honestly?

Right now, I didn’t really mind all that much.

______________________________________________________________

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[eloquentlytired]

18+mdni

— three is the charm

pairing: logan x fem curvy reader x wade

tags: threesome — established relationship — dominant wade — needy reader & lo — rough sex — cock ring — pet names — wade being silly — not mentioned but reader is on the pill — sweet ending — not exhaustive tags here we good

summary: wade needs to unwind, you and logan help him.

author’s note: I have finally finished this tiny surprise. enjoy !! ☺️🩷🌸

ৎৎৎ

you lie on the bed as wade kisses you while logan abuses the skin of your neck, littering it with bites. it hurts but it's a good ache and they're both always careful with you. “fuck.” you whine against wade’s lips and you know that he'd give you a funny response if he wasn't so incredibly horny — he was the one that had initiated this in the first place.

there's hardness pressing against both of your thighs and you think about how lucky you are to be like this; to have two people that want you. that love you. logan moves his hand to slide down your pajama shorts and wade follows right after to remove your panties, exposing your wetness. wade is also the first to slip between your legs and go down on you, firstly kissing the area around your pussy until you're whimpering and throbbing for him. logan is just done undoing the first few buttons of your pajama shirt, remembering you like this one, and you'd praise him if you were coherent. he wraps his lips around your nipple while occupying the other with his hand, twisting it between his fingers. you moan and your legs shake over wade’s shoulders as the wet sensations at your breasts and cunt overwhelm you with the best type of pleasure. wade grips your hips high and your heart flutters at the way his bare hands squeeze them so tightly, proving how much he loves the curves of you. he grunts between your legs, sliding his tongue up and down, from your entrance to your clit, before tracing your lips teasingly. you sob with pleasure and logan sucks around your nipple harder to intensify the arousal you feel. one of your hands disappear into logan’s hair while the other finds wade’s hand on your hip and squeezes it. wade squeezes back.

“fuck—” it is logan who is cursing moments later when he's laying on his back on the bed as you straddle him so that your chests are pressing together and melting. wade hovers behind you and the head of his cock pokes your anal hole, making you shudder. wade grips logan’s cock to give it a few rough strokes and watches how his boyfriend’s hips twitch with each movement. he presses logan’s tip against the entrance of your weeping cunt and you moan, swaying your hips back against their cocks. “please.” you whisper and they're moving in unison like they always do, as if they're mentally communicating, and slide their cocks inside you inch by inch.

logan waits for wade to go a few inches first before he's pushing his fat tip past the tightness of your sweet pussy. this is something they always do as well — allowing the other to go first depending who's more desperate or who needs it more at the moment. part of them does it to not hurt you too much which is sweet, but the other part contains a much deeper meaning of it. probably something to do with the way wade slides his cock inside you first while staring at logan from behind your shoulder. they exchange rough glances, literally eye-fucking each other, because wade always provokes logan. he becomes competitive on purpose but there's no unhealthy intent behind it and they always know. wade means to say something like I reached the ending line first but logan grounds his hips, lining his dick with your pussy and thrusts forward sharply. it makes wade feral to see that kind of expression in his face — logan silently telling him that even if he comes second he'll still pretty much destroy the both of you.

but today is wade’s day and when wade leans down for a moment, tugging logan’s head closer by his hair, logan allows him. only you and wade can do that. “oh.” you lift your head slightly from logan’s hairy chest and you watch them as they kiss, wade’s tongue battling for dominance, and his endurance allows him to claim it against logan who's struggling to keep up. logan growls as wade takes a sweet moment to bite onto his bottom lip and release it with a loud sound. you instinctively clench at the sight, walls tightening around their cocks which twitch in response. especially logan’s as wade bites onto his bottom lip again but this time harder until he draws blood. it's filthy and arousing but the three of you were never normal to begin with.

“wade..lo!” you scream as they fill you up at the same time, stuffing their cocks into your deepest parts. you're full — extremely — and your body shakes uncontrollably because of the sheer force of their hips. wade grunts as he fucks you from behind, driving his hips straight into yours while his hand squeezes your pretty hip. you don't know where his other hand is until wade is using it to wrap it around your throat and pull you up. you feel logan’s cock shake, tremble even, and it couldn't be? right? but logan surprises you by spilling his load into your pussy and he surprises wade too.

logan is the only one who isn't surprised because the sight before him has turned him into literal shambles. your back presses against wade’s chest as you take both of their cocks so well and — in logan’s defense — wade is choking you too as your breasts bounce with each collision of their hips. logan can't take it. “you old dog.” wade mocks as he nibbles the back of your shoulder and logan let's out an animalistic growl as if annoyed with the comment. wade just provokes him more. “oh, peanut, maybe we should train you to handle the truth a little better.” and before you know it wade is holding you from your elbows as your entire front moves over logan. wade fucks you fast, hard. his balls slap against your skin and the motion burns you eventually because of the roughness but you like it. logan squirms beneath your bodies mumbling and pleading about how it's too much, too sensitive. “shut up and take it.” wade says probably to both of you and you moan in unison. your pussy clenches, logan shivers.

at some point wade is using a single arm to fist your hair and that's all the support you have to not crash on top of logan. logan watches your breasts bounce and brush over his face as wade takes you, molds you into an obedient little thing. it doesn't take long for him to get hard again and start rutting into you but wade notices. and he doesn't allow it. “what the—” logan hisses as something interrupts his high and although he can't see it, he knows wade has wore that damn cock ring around him just for punishment. “now don't be selfish. you already had your fun,didn't you?” wade mocks and grounds his hips into you so deep that it makes your eyes roll back with logan simply watching. logan growls in protest like he always does but wade doesn't care. wade pulls out completely before thrusting his entire cock back into your hole and your hips tremble as you hear the noises; when wade fucks you. when his hips collide with yours. when his balls slap against your skin. when his cock completely disappears into your tightness.

“work,puppy. you might get what you want in the end.” wade tells logan with mischief and logan grips both of your asscheeks roughly as he begins fucking into you properly. finally. it's brutal and fast and logan’s public hair rubs against your clit. you're reaching your peak then, squeezing around their cocks while coming all over logan’s dick. logan grunts and whimpers beneath your body as his cock twitches but nothing comes out — the cock ring doesn't let him. wade simply grins with satisfaction and before you know it he's pulling out of you, stroking himself to orgasm. you and logan moan as wade spurts all over you, on your ass and on logan’s thighs. he wants his claim to be apparent.

wade releases your hair and you fall on logan with a whine, your scalp slightly hurting but it's fine because this is worth it. there's some shuffling behind as wade unclasps the cock ring from around logan’s shaft. he's hard and leaking and wade uses a hand to guide logan’s cock back into your sensitive pussy. “wade—” , “I know,angel,I know.” he shushes your protests as logan’s hard shaft stretches you out again. it takes you a while to realize that logan is shaking beneath you as wade fondles with his balls, squeezing and rubbing them. logan’s eyes are shut and his hips twitch. all it takes is a few more toying around with his balls from wade to make him come again and logan is filling you up again. you shudder as he finishes emptying his load inside you and you slide tiredly by his side, logan is as tired as you so he doesn't stop your fall.

it's midnight when all three of you are watching tv in one of the couches. wade is in the middle while you and logan are at either side of him. wade’s head is leaning on logan’s shoulder while his hand is nestled between your hands. you hold him gently as logan silently watches the cartoons channel that wade has picked out. “thank you for today.” wade mutters tiredly, because it's his thing to be sentimental a little before bed, and you and logan can't help but smile a little. “I can feel you smiling.” wade states proudly, eyes still targeted at the television. “go fuck yourself,bub.” logan tells him humourously and you shake your head at their childish bickering. “talking about fucking,lo, did your balls get bigger—”

“wade!” you and logan protest in unison. your boyfriend laughs.

[blimpintime]

cursed : azriel x reader

in which azriel has a crush on a witch, and thinks she cursed him.

warnings: none (unedited)

word count: 1.4k

“She’s quite the character huh?” Cassian says to Azriel, staring at you. He grunts in response wondering why you are currently in a handstand competition with a couple of kids in the middle of town. Kind of in awe how your little black dress didn't fall down to your face with you being upside down, but that's a perk of being a witch, he thinks. 

As if you heard them talking about you, your gaze finds theirs. You grin and then lose balance and gracefully fall out of the handstand. It being the last day of summer did make it a cool one but still having been outside with a summer camp of kids you were quite dewy with sweat. Your face was flushed and damp as you made your way towards the two men. 

“Hi Cassian!” You say with a grin, you turn and look at Azriel, your smile falling into a smaller one. “Spymaster.” You nod. Cassian lets a chuckle slip through at Az’s blank face. You were always like this with him. He never fully understood why. You kept him at a distance always but managed to be involved in every one else’s business. He often thought it was because you could not stand him. And then he thought you were terrified of him, because let’s face it, that was more believable.

You were making small talk with Cassian when Azriel started to get lost in his mind thinking of you and how it seemed you teased him on occasion. With your little quips here and there. Constantly smelling like those fresh baked chocolate-chip muffins that were his guilty pleasure to eat when he got back from long missions

He noticed eventually that Cassian had walked away from you two when a group of kids started playing tag with him. He turned to look at you where you decided to sit on the grass, he made a quick decision to sit next to you. Both of you were silent, but for once it was comfortable.

The path leading up to your small little house on the bank of the Sidra was always well lit at night. Glowing with purple and orange lanterns their reflection makes it seem brighter than it was that night. Your house was on the smaller side (still fairly large all considering.) But you loved to host seasonal parties due to them being in connection with your magic and since summer was ending and fall was starting, it was the perfect time to throw one of your celebrations. 

Currently the Inner Circle is in your living room drinking and eating food you have made for them. Your familiar, Silly the tabby cat, has made their home on Azriel’s lap. He doesn’t seem to mind though. Gently petting the cat's soft fur. You stare at them from the kitchen with a soft smile on your face. 

“You could just tell him you know.” Nesta says from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You place a hand over your chest and let out a deep breath. “Nesta, I’m going to put a bell on you.” She laughs lightly as you scrunch up your nose. 

“I am not joking though.” She says softly, and you look back at him now playing with Silly on the couch. “He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes. There is no way I could tell him how I feel.” She hums in response. 

“I think you’d be surprised.” And then she walks back out to sit with Cassian. You did deeply care about Azriel, borderline loved him. You felt connected to him in a way you couldn’t describe, just that your soul was at peace with him. Your magic proved that theory too. It sometimes appears to you in colorful hazes around people. 

Every color had a different meaning, the majority of the Inner Circle had a warm orange around them. Your magic had to be newer or just not have a written history because there is barely any research on what these colors mean.  However, you chalked it up to orange meaning some of the most important people in your life. Azriel though, he had a beautiful blue humming around him almost constantly for you, and you had no idea what that meant.

You must have been lost in thought for a while because the next person to scare you was Rhys with Nyx on his hip. He was building another plate for Feyre and Nyx to pick off of. 

“You okay?” He asked you softly. Nyx’s grubby hands reaching for the fresh food on the plate, you and Rhys both grin at that. You nod your head in response to his earlier question. 

“Maybe ask him to hang out with you?” He says, like it's that easy. You shake your head, “I don’t know about that.” 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.” You watch him leave the kitchen and decide it's time to do the same. 

You follow Rhys back into your living space, where it's warm of laughter and love. You sit down on the only open seat, which happens to be on the couch next to Azriel. Silly runs over to your lap and demands petting. You look down at the orange cat with love and when you look back up you meet Azriel’s puzzled stare.

“What?” You ask him softly, nudging the cat off your lap gently. You turn to fully face him when he abruptly stands up. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the outside. 

“We will be back.” He says gruffly towards everybody, dragging you along.

“Please for the love of Mother, take your time.” Cassian says with a cheeky grin, “We have bets placed.” to which earns him a vulgar gesture from both you and Azriel.

When you go outside he drags you closer to the river and further from the house. Probably to avoid prying ears and eyes, but with everyone’s magic you go ahead and place a sound proofing spell over the two of you.

“Is everything alright Azriel?” You ask him after a moment of silence. He turns back around to look at you with something close to… fear?  

“So, what is it?” You look at him deadpanned and tilt your head in confusion.

“What spell did you place on me? Why, when I go to sleep I think about how I hope you had a good day. When I wake up I wonder if you actually ate breakfast and not forgetting after you have your morning coffee. And tonight, I wonder where you go when this party is mainly in celebration for you and I am busy playing with your cat and not with you.” He gets out in one breath. I stare at him for a moment and when I open my mouth he interrupts me again,

“Why is it when you are near my hands shake less and my worries ease but when you are gone I crave your scent. What curse? What spell?” Azriel genuinely looks shaken for a moment, and for a second so do you. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way too, Azriel.” You say and approach him with a soft smile. When you guys finally make eye contact though something inside you both, snaps. Your eyes widen and so do his. Mate.

You let out a little giggle that eventually turns into a full laugh. “You thought I cursed you?” You say through giggles, “I thought you hated me Az.” 

“Ah, well that goes both ways.” He responded with a smile. You look at him in confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You couldn’t stand to be near me.” He quips back.

“No. You couldn’t stand to be near me.” You say and jokingly sniff at him. He shakes his head and grins. “We are both stupid.” You nod your head in agreement. 

“A couple of stupid mates, huh.” You look up at him, now leaning shoulder to shoulder. 

“Yeah something like that.” And then he kisses you. 

Warm lips slotting over yours softly, you both start getting a little more heated with each other. Hands finding their way into your hair while yours go around his neck. His lips softly biting yours and then pulling away. You arch and reach up on your tiptoes in a feat of chasing his lips. He grins at you, puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses your nose. 

“Let’s go back inside.” He whispers and leans back, as if he’s afraid that this will all be a dream if one of you speaks too loudly.

“I am kicking everyone out the minute we get back inside.” You whisper back and kiss his collar bone. 

“That sounds great to me.” he says and with that you both walk back to your house holding hands. 

a/n: so this was completely self indulgent, I wanted a cozy azriel fic!

please tell me what you think!

I don't own any characters that sarah j. mass created.

[misctf]

Singing a New Tune

Written for Occam's 2000 Follower Writing Challenge

“Babe, I love you.”

Jared smiled down at Julie, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He had to imagine his girlfriend dreamed of this moment. A romantic kiss at a Tiffany Stabina concert as the star finished out her set with one of Julie’s favorite songs. A slow romantic song- one that Jared knew all too well from frequent replays in the car.  

“Anything for you babe.” He replied, holding her closely in his muscular arms, “I love you too.”

This certainly wasn’t his kind of music. And he didn’t understand the cult-like devotion to Tiffany. But seeing Julie this happy? Worth it. Still, he imagined the other straight dudes here were thinking similarly. In fact, he and the guy next to him shared several looks throughout the night. A silent comradery acknowledging they���d rather be elsewhere. And if they had been elsewhere, Jared would’ve asked the guy for his arm day routine.

“Alright babe, we ought to head out before...”

“To all my fans, I love you!” Tiffany called out, their cheers drowning Jared’s words, “You’ve all been with me from the beginning, and I am so grateful.” She placed a hand over her heart, “But you all know I’ve been criticized.” The fans all booed, “And they’ve come after you too.”

“A bit dramatic.” Jared chuckled, earning a glare from Julie.

“You wouldn’t get it.” She replied, “They go after he for everything.” The jock nodded, not wanting to risk ruining their perfect night, “But when she sings, it’s like she’s speaking directly to you. People just don’t get it.” Jared nodded. There were some things just not worth it.

“I wasn’t going to do this, but I have a new song for you all this evening!” The crowd erupted in screams and applause. Jared groaned, “They say I’m pandering? Then I’ll pander.” She continued, and the crowd got louder.

Jared knew there would be no way of getting Julie to leave now. And he silently dreaded the hours they’d be stuck in traffic. But as the song started and Tiffany’s words echoed through the stadium, his thoughts slowed.

“They say I only cater to a few.”

Jared felt lightheaded, the sound of the crowd growing distant.

“The gays and the girls, oh boo hoo.”

“Julie?” He whispered, but she didn’t respond, “Julie, please...” He felt sick. The world was spinning, everything becoming black, “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He whispered. He couldn’t move. Was he dying? Was this it?

“But I won’t back down, I won’t apologize.” Jared looked up and saw her. Tiffany Stabina. Standing in front of him, “For making them feel alive.” She strutted towards the helpless jock.

“What...? How is this...?”

“I see you dancing in the dark, feeling completely torn apart.” She sang.

Jared yelped as he felt a cool breeze caress him. And to his horror, he realized he was nude. Butt naked in front of Tiffany Stabina no less. She grinned and approached him, circling his nude figure and wrapping her arms around him.

“Embrace your uniqueness, don’t hide.”

Jared gasped as she placed pressure on his shoulders. He felt the floor getting closer as he lost inch after inch of height. He now stood at eye level with the 5’6” popstar.

“Wait? What did you do to me?” He yelped.

“Now let my music take you for a ride.”

She ran a hand along his muscular arms. Her very touch sent a wave of pleasure straight to his dick, and he blushed as all 10 inches stood at attention. Tiffany smirked, but continued rubbing his biceps and triceps. Her sensual touch was intoxicated, and Jared watched helplessly as his proud muscles started to diminish. His biceps atrophied, followed quickly by his triceps. His slender arms giving off the appearance they hadn’t seen a gym in years. He tried to cry out, but Tiffany placed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. He could only watch as her hands roamed his impressive pecs. He had always been proud of his pecs, and he loved when Julie rested her head on his chest. But now, he could only watch as they flattened away.

“Wait...” He was able to force out. But Tiffany was relentless, and her hands roamed down his abs.

He shed a few tears as his abs vanished, leaving him with a flat, slender tummy. There was no way this could be happening. It had to be some type of acid trip or something. Jared kept trying to reassure himself, even as she moved to his legs and quickly destroyed his muscular thighs and calves, leaving his legs slender and dainty. His feet followed, and quickly diminished from size 13s to 9.5s in mere seconds.

“My music is my contagion, unapologetic. Now we’re gonna collide.” Tiffany continued, this time wrapping her hands around his cock, “My fans are my tribe, I won’t divide.”

Jared felt like the wind was knocked out of him from both the pain and pleasure from her touch. And he watched as she shrunk his proud member. The young jock always knew he was well endowed. And he knew how to use it too. But as he watched his dick shrink from its proud ten inches to a mere 3 inches hard, he felt his confidence diminish.

“We’ll rise together, side by side.”

Her hands made their way to his flat ass. He tried to crane his neck to see what she was about to do. But he didn’t need to see. He could immediately feel his ass expand in her hands, filling them with firm, yet jiggly fat and muscle. He let out a moan as she caressed his basketball-sized ass cheeks, and he nearly came when she gave one a firm slap.

“Pl-please stop...” He begged as she placed a hand over his neck, “You can't do thith...” His voice cracked and he winced, “What’th happening to my voithe? Why do I thound like thith?” He begged, his voice cracking, “No, thith doethn't thound right.” His voice settled a few octaves higher, his masculine tone now lost forever.

“So bring on the hate, let the critics rage. We’ll keep on dancing, it’s time to turn the page.”

As she continued to caress his now slender body, and grind against him, he felt off. His dick  softened, as her physicality became less appealing to him. Her bouncing boobs and thick lips didn’t seem to do it for him. Even her touch was losing its pleasure. And he realized in terror what was occurring.

“No, not thith!” He begged, “Come on, come, think of thomething.” He remembered the BJ Julie gave him last night, and even the lesbian porn he watched a few days ago. But his measly member stayed soft, “No... pleathe...”

He felt Tiffany’s hand on his head. His pleading eyes met hers, and he knew he’d find no mercy. His hair restyled itself, and he felt a piercing pain in his left earlobe, which suddenly adourned a diamond stud. But her touch was doing far more than making a few style alterations. In his mind, his memories were shifting. Showering after football practice? Changing in the locker room after a lifting session with his bros? Watching football with his family?

“Oh god...” He moaned, as his small dick hardened and his ass throbbed with need.

He didn’t play football. He got fucked by the quarterback in the shower after a game. He wasn’t lifting at the gym. He was doing cardio and sucking off the gym bros between their sets. He didn’t watch sports like football. He just sat and scrolled on his phone, reading up on the latest Tiffany Stabina gossip and scrolling his socials. And as his new reality cemented itself, Jared’s eyes lost their intelligent spark and became half-lidded, his brain filling with celebrity gossip and how to please guys.

“This contagion’s here to stay, and we’ll celebrate it every day.”

She kissed him on the cheek. And with that, Jared was back. The cheers of the crowd filling his ears, as Tiffany thanked her fans and left the stage. Jared smiled.

“Oh my god! That wath tho amathing!” He cheered, “Tiffany! I love you!” He yelled, “It wath like Tiffany thpoke to me.”

“You felt that way too?” Jared turned and came face to face with a man of similar build. Albeit with slightly bigger arms, “Tiffany, like, totally thpeakth for uth.” He grinned as Jared felt up his arms.

“Wait!” A voice called out behind him, “Did you see the guy I came here with?” Julie asked, looking around desperately, “I swear, he was right here. I...”

“Thorry thithter, I hope you find him!” Jared replied, turning his attention back to the guy.

“Tho weird, thome poor girl athked me about her boyfriend too.” The man replied, “Probably got drunk and left to watch football.”

“OMG tho lame.” Jared laughed. The two smiled at one another, “Tho, like...”

“Wanna go back to my place? I have her latetht album.” The man winked, and Jared shuddered as his ass throbbed with need.

“That thounds delightful.” Jared replied, pulling the man in closer, his smile widening as the man squeezed his ass, “Oh! But like firtht I totally need a thelfie! I want everyone to know I thupport Tiffany and Tiffany thupports me!” He cheered, capturing their kiss on camera and posting it to his socials.

Later that night, Jared and his lover explored one another’s new bodies. Jared gasping at the size of his lover’s cock, moaning as he felt a firm hand squeeze his ass. His moans would continue to fill the room that night. With each thrust of his new lover’s dick, Jared was in heaven. Unaware of his former life or the horror it would bring his former self to see him like this. Just another horny slut- another gay twink dedicated to Tiffany Stabina.

[f0point5]

I think I have sent this same request some time ago but I still would like you to write something about Emilia and Max hanging out with Victoria’s children and maybe thinking about their own future kids. But really anything with Max and Emilia would be great!

I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one, but tumblr eats asks sometimes 🤷‍♀️ but it’s too cute so here you go! I am keeping these short but I hope you still enjoy it!

✨Set during summer break 2024✨

I’m having his baby (…) no, I’m not

You take a sip of your rosé as Victoria comes to stand beside you. You’re lurking in the doorway of the lounge, watching Max sitting on the couch with his baby niece in his arms. He’s bobbing her in a gentle motion, his hands looking huge around her tiny, swaddled body.

“God, I remember when we used to say our kids would get married,” Vic says beside you, and you laugh.

You did say that. As little kids you would wish to be sisters, and somehow the only way you could think to make that happen would be for your children to marry each other. Like in that Flintstones movie you used to love. You’d draw pictures of the two of you sitting on the porch of a large house, watching your children get married.

Now you wonder if your mums thought the same, during those summers in Italy, as they watched you all play. They swear now that they did, that the mother’s intuition told them you and Max were tied together by some invisible chord that chafed on both your wrists. “A mother always knows,” Sophie said to you when she saw you last, “you will know, too”.

“And now that would be illegal and dangerous for our grandkids,” you say, shaking your head. “Crazy,”

“I like it better this way,” Victoria says, putting her arm around your shoulder and squeezing you into a hug.

“Me, too,” you agree, your eyes fixed on Max and Hailey. He’s whispering to her in Dutch, her eyes fluttering closed every few seconds as she yawns in his face, which only makes him smile. He’s utterly mesmerised by her. And you’re mesmerised by him.

I swear I can actually feel my ovaries right now.

“He’s so good with kids,” Vic says. “Even with Jaye I remember he was so gentle,”

“Yeah,” you agree, only half hearing her as you take another sip.

“Gives you baby fever, huh?”

You choke on your wine. Was that Victoria or your subconscious talking?

Vic, are you in here? No, of course she’s not in here. She’s just being nosey. Act natural.

“Are you okay?” Max asks from the couch. You look over at him as you wipe your mouth, coughing once as you nod. Even as he looks at you in concern, he never stops the gentle bouncing motion of the baby in his arms.

You go to answer, but Vic beats you to it, blunt as ever. “I was just saying, you will be having one of your own soon, yeah?” She smiles, nodding at Hailey.

If Max is panicking as much as you, he doesn’t show it, just shrugging. “I mean, ye-“ You can feel your eyes widen, and he stops when he sees your face. He tries again. “May-“ he frowns at you, silently begging for help. “No?” You nod gently, and Max turns to Victoria. “No.”

She looks at you in mild disbelief. “No?”

“No,” you emphasise to both Verstappens.

You love them dearly but genetics are a crazy thing - they both share a chronic disregard for timing. They want it all, and they want it now, in any order, all order be damned.

“You’re not getting any younger,” Victoria says, nudging you.

“That is just rude,” you tell her, and she just smiles unapologetically.

“Oh, come on,” she implores, reaching up to wind her finger around a lock of your hair, “a little baby with Max’s eyes and your hair?”

“And both of our tempers,” you say with a chuckle. “Can you imagine that? Besides, we can barely make cereal, and you want us to raise a baby?”

You look at Max for support, but he’s no longer paying attention. He’s looking down at his niece like he’s holding water.

Maybe a baby can live on cereal, if her dad looks at her like that.

“I’m going to go put Hailey down for her nap,” Vic says, jerking you from your thoughts.

She goes over to take a sleepy Hailey from Max’s arms, and he looks loathe to let her go. She looks so much bigger when held by her mother, and her so much more fragile.

“When I get back, we can start on dinner. I’m going to make cereal,” Vic teases in a whisper, winking at you as she passes.

Max snorts with laughter, and you shoot Vic a glare as she starts to hum, shuffling her way out of the lounge towards the bedroom.

You join Max on the couch, falling onto it beside him with a heavy sigh.

“So glad I’m an only child,” you say, rolling your eyes. When Max doesn’t respond, you glance over at him to find him staring at his hands. You nudge him gently. “What?”

“You do,” he starts, leaning back as he turns to you. “Want kids, someday, don’t you?With me. I mean…you don’t think I’ll be, like…”

“No,” you answer quickly, when you understand what he’s getting at.

You silently curse yourself for that joke about tempers. For ever making him think that’s something you worry about. You know there’s a heaviness in Max, in both of you. You know that he is so much more than his father’s son. But you also know that the weight on his shoulders will keep him crooked until he can see that for himself. You hope knowing you see it will be enough for now.

“I want your baby, Max. Someday. There’s no one else I would ever do this with besides you and not just because I love you, but because I know you’ll be an amazing dad,” you tell him honestly, and even that small platitude seems to relax his shoulders. “But can we at least get to one year of baby making activities before we start painting a nursery?”

Max nods, letting out a husk of a laugh. “I’m shit at painting anyway,” he says, looking at you from under those eyelashes that you secretly envy.

Maybe she’ll inherit those, too.

“Free practice?” You offer with a smirk, holding your hand for his.

Max looks at your outstretched palm for a moment before taking your hand in his. “Free practice,” he agrees, using his grip on your hand to pull you forward so that your chest is pressed against his. “I’m looking forward to FP2 later,”

[simplygojo]

I Like Your Tie...

A/n: OMG ONE OF MY FAVS REQUESTED! I loved this request; thats why it took SO LONG I’m sorry my friend I hope you enjoyyyy!! <3 I needed another Nanami request so bad so you did me a favour with this one, LOLLL.

Request: “Your last Toji fic got me frothing like a rabid dog. Lol. in all ways it was very uniquely him indeed ! The same for Gojo and Witch!Reader. Could I shy request a fic with the song 'Talk' by Hozier paired up with Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader ? Something sensual steamy but ever so romantic for the blonde? I can practically see him saying or thinking such lyric quotes as "I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do... So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you. Imagine being loved by me". May she's a fellow Special Grade sorcerer, and their friendship keeps building up, but neither wants to cross the line ? So they dance around it, until something happens ? Idk. >\\\\\\\\\\\\\\< I'll leave it to your artistic hands and imagination what to do with this? If you feel inspired to. In any case, please delete if this seems rubbish. Anyway, thank you for your stories ! Thank you so much. ♡” - @erebus-et-eigengrau (lurvv uu)

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f/reader

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+ Content, SMUT!, intercourse, light choking, control kink(ish), pet name

The late-night quiet of Jujutsu High was comforting in a way—no students rushing through the halls, no teachers around to monitor. You had been grateful for the peace, retreating to your room after a long day.

But as you reached your door, you stopped in your tracks.

There he was. Nanami Kento stood in front of your door, leaning casually against the wall. 

—

You and Nanami had been friends for what felt like a lifetime, though it all began back in high school. Back then, you had a bit of a crush on him—not that you’d ever admit it. He wasn’t the type to flirt or give much attention to relationships, but there was something about him that always caught your eye. 

You had your moments, too—shared laughter, and private conversations late into the night, when the walls between friends almost seemed to blur. 

But Nanami never made a move, and neither did you. You knew how seriously he took his role as a sorcerer, and you didn’t want to complicate your friendship with feelings that you weren’t sure were mutual.

As you both graduated and eventually became high-level sorcerers, those moments of potential intimacy became even more distant. You grew into your own roles, taking on increasingly dangerous missions and fighting curses that most could barely comprehend. Nanami was often assigned to the same missions as you, his calm, steady presence a source of reassurance when things got chaotic.

There were times when his professionalism would slip, just for a moment. A fleeting look, a brush of his fingers against yours, his voice dropping an octave when he spoke your name. You always wondered if he felt it too—that same tension you tried so hard to ignore. But you never dared to ask, afraid of what it might mean if the answer was yes.

And now, standing in front of him in the quiet after everything that had just happened, you realized just how deeply those old feelings still ran.

There were times, though, when your old crush resurfaced. 

Sometimes, it was the way he’d look at you across the battlefield, silently checking to see if you were okay, his eyes filled with a concern that was more than just professional. Other times, it was the rare, gentle touch when he’d help you after a fight—his hand brushing your arm or waist as he steadied you after a particularly tough encounter.

But you always pushed those feelings down, refusing to acknowledge them for the sake of professionalism. 

The sorcery world didn’t leave much room for distractions, and you knew that Nanami was as dedicated as ever. He was the picture of control, never letting emotions dictate his actions, always focused on the mission at hand. You convinced yourself that whatever crush you had on him was just remnants of your high school days, a fleeting fantasy that had no place in your current life.

—

His arms were crossed, his tie long loosened, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. The dim lighting of the hallway cast a shadow over his sharp features, making the intensity in his eyes even more pronounced. He looked every bit the composed man he always was, but something about the way his gaze followed your every movement made your heart stutter.

“Nanami…” His name left your lips in a quiet murmur, not expecting to see him there, not like this.

“You’re out late,” he observed, his voice steady but lower than usual, as if the stillness of the night demanded it.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, one of the first-years wanted some late-night training…What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away, eyes flicking down to your lips before settling back on yours. 

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable, making it hard to think clearly. His usual restraint seemed to falter, just slightly, but enough to make your pulse race.

“I was waiting for you.” His voice was steady, but the words made your breath hitch.

Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Waiting for me?” You said quietly, a heat beginning to pool between your thighs.

Nanami pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer to you, his movements deliberate. The space between you closed as his tall figure made its way toward you—the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks finally came to a boil. 

“Why were you waiting for me..?” You questioned, “I need to talk,” He responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“I used to try to talk so refined, in fear of you finding out…” He admitted, his voice lower now, almost rough around the edges. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. 

“Finding out what, Nanami.” You breathed, watching how his lips parted just slightly while he paused. “How I’ve been imagining you." 

The air between you was thick with tension, so heavy you could almost taste it. Nanami stood inches away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His normally professional demeanour had cracked, revealing something raw, something primal. The careful distance you both had maintained was no longer there.

"Imagining me…?" You repeated, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it.

Nanami’s eyes darkened, and his gaze roamed over you in a way that left your body practically squirming under his scrutiny. His jaw clenched for a moment as though fighting some internal battle, but when he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, filled with a desire he was no longer trying to hide.

“Every time I look at you,” he confessed, his hands flexing at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to touch you, “I think about how you’d feel under my touch… under me.”

Your breath caught, your throat suddenly dry as his words sank in. The image of his hands on your skin, the weight of him pressing against you, the feeling of him between your legs—it sent a wave of heat through your body, leaving you borderline trembling with anticipation.

“Nanami…” you whispered his name, your voice trembling with the same desire that was now coursing through you. The distance between you felt unbearable.

The professionalism you both held onto so tightly was crumbling, and the temptation to give in was overwhelming.

The hallway was too quiet, too intimate, and it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. It was just the two of you, standing there on the precipice of something dangerous and irresistible.

“I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now all the things we’d do,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper as his thumb traced your jawline, gently tilting your head with two fingers. His eyes darkened with want, and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

That was all it took. The pull between you snapped, and before you could think, your hands were fisting in his dark blue shirt, pulling him down to meet your lips in a kiss that was heated, desperate—inevitable.

His hand swiftly opened your door before pushing you into it, causing both of you to stumble into the dimly lit room. With a loud thud, Nanami kicked the door shut before pushing you back up against your entryway wall.

Nanami groaned softly into your mouth—your pussy practically throbbing at the sound—and his hands immediately wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer as if he couldn’t stand the idea of any space between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that you hadn’t expected, and it left you breathless.

You gasped when his hands gripped your hips firmly, pushing more firmly against the wall. The cool surface against your back was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him as he pressed himself closer, his lips never leaving yours.

His kisses were deliberate, slow—but rough—as if he wanted to savour every moment of this. 

"Mmf…Nanami," you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him, your lips swollen from the kiss, breathless. "What are we doing?"

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged as he looked down at you. There was something raw, unguarded in his expression. “What I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. “Now be a good girl for me, y/n.” He practically purred against your lips, as he lifed you so your legs wrapped around his waist. 

His hands moved with more confidence now, sliding up your sides while you were pinned against the wall, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You tugged at his hair, your fingers desperate to feel more of him.

His hands, rough from battle and years of work, were surprisingly gentle as they slid beneath your shirt, fingers brushing over your painfully hard nipples, teasing you. You arched into him, your body responding to every touch.

He made quick work of your jacket—and that tiny tank top you wore underneath it, his hands roughly reaching for every bit of exposed skin.

Nanami growled softly with your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips trailed down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that had you moaning his name.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, his breath hot against your neck, but the fire in his eyes told you stopping was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Don’t," you whispered—pleading with him for more, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. "Don’t stop."

Nanami’s eyes darkened further at your words, and a slow, subtle smirk spread across his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. 

His hand moved up to the tie hanging loosely around his neck, fingers working quickly to loosen it even further. Before you could register what he was doing, he slid the tie off entirely, his movements deliberate and slow as he looped the fabric around your neck.

The silk felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. His eyes never left yours as he gently tugged at the tie, pulling you closer, the pressure on your throat light but enough to send a thrill through you that went straight to your now-soaked pussy.

“There,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over the side of your neck as he admired how the tie looked wrapped around you, it falling on your bare chest. In a moment, his lips were back on your skin, trailing lower this time as his free hand continued to explore your body. He kissed a path down to your chest, the tie around your neck tightening just slightly as he pulled you even closer.

He brought you to the couch in your small room with one hand while the other held the back of your head as his tongue explored your mouth.

“You look so beautiful like this, do you know that, y/n? With my tie around your pretty little neck…” He murmured against your skin, his voice laced with raw, unfiltered need. 

Hoisting you up onto the back of the couch, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, fingers brushing against the wetness between your thighs, and the contact made you gasp. 

With one swift but gentle movement, Nanami slid your skirt and tights down your legs, and now you sat in front of him—completely vulnerable.

“Nanami—” Your words were cut off by a moan as his fingers returned, pressing more firmly, the slow, torturous circles he drew making your entire body tremble. The tie tightened just a fraction more as he leaned back to look at you, his thumb brushing against your clit in a way that had your heart racing even faster.

“You’re so responsive for me,” he growled softly, his fingers entering your dripping cunt slowly, making sure to feel every inch of your interior. “It’s driving me insane.”

You could barely breathe, the combination of his fingers between your legs and the light pressure of the tie around your neck leaving you a trembling mess in his arms. You clung to him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you fought to hold on, your body betraying you with every ragged breath and every desperate moan.

"Nanami, please..." You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and breathless as you begged for him.

He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction. “You want more, don’t you?” He asked, his voice thick with amusement, but the tension in his body told you he was just as desperate as you were.

You nodded, your head falling back as your body arched into his touch. “Please…”

The sound of your begging seemed to snap something in him. With one swift motion, he lifted you up with one arm and spun you around before setting you on your feet in front of him, your ass pressing up against his bulge as the cool leather from the couch pressed against your lower abdomen. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers slipped inside you again, making you gasp loudly at the sudden (welcomed) intrusion. 

“I want to hear you beg for me again,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you, driving you to the brink of insanity. His other hand subtly undid his belt, lowering his pants just enough to expose his desperate cock.

You moaned, arching into his hand, your body betraying you as it responded to every touch, every whisper of his breath on your skin. “Nanami...hmmf…please...I-I need you in me.” You managed to get out between moans.

“That’s it,” he growled, his fingers exiting you, but they were quickly replaced by his dick as he inserted himself into you—feeling you stretch around him caused him to throw his head back in pleasure, and he gave a little yank on the tie, your head jerking backwards as your stomach pressed harder into the couch, provoking a pornographic moan to exit your lips.

“Fuck,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin as he buried himself inside you, again and again, each stroke thrusting deeper into your gummy walls, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You feel so good.”

His pace quickened, and the slow, deliberate rhythm gave way to something more primal and desperate. His control was slipping, and you could feel it in every rough thrust, every growl that rumbled from his chest as he claimed you completely.

The tie tightened again, the silk digging into your skin just enough to heighten the pleasure, and the sensation sent you spiralling toward the edge. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you gasped for breath, the intensity of it all overwhelming.

He leaned forward, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper into you. He gently moved your hair off of your shoulder as his delicate fingers traced the border of his tie and your skin. “You really are such a good girl.”

His thumb pushed into clit as he thrusted into you at a dominating pace—the sensation was nearly enough to push you over the edge—but you held on a little longer. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking as his pace quickened, he tightened the feeling around your throat with the tie around your neck pulling you closer to him.

Nanami’s body moved behind you, the warmth of him pressing against your back as his hands gripped your hips. Bent over the back of your couch, with the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed skin. “Mmhf–Nanami…Oh please.” You moaned out, practically begging him for more as he fucked you with a controlling pace

His breath was heavy, ragged, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, making you feel the sheer size and strength of him as he dominated you completely.

Nanami’s fingers wrapped around his tie nicely wrapped around your neck, pulling it taut. The sensation made you gasp, your head tilting back slightly as the silk tightened around your throat just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. Suddenly he took his soaked dick out of you letting it land on your ass, rubbing his hand over the smooth skin.

“You look just perfect like this,” he growled low in your ear, his voice thick with lust as he tugged the tie just a bit tighter, your chin tilting up as he whispered in your ear. “Bent over—begging for me.”

Your legs trembled beneath you, your body quivering with anticipation, but before you could respond, he was inside you again. 

The stretch was immediate, deep, and overwhelming as he thrust into you from behind, filling you completely with a single stroke. You cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he pulled you back against him, the tie keeping you tethered, under his controlled.

“Nanami…” You moaned his name, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper as he began to move, his hips snapping against you in a relentless rhythm. Every thrust was harder than the last, his grip on the tie tightening with every movement, pulling you back into him, forcing you to feel every inch of him.

His pace was brutal, his control slipping entirely as he watched the way your body reacted to him, the way you moaned his name with every stroke. His free hand found your hip, gripping you so tightly that you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow, but the thought only sent another wave of arousal through you.

“You feel so good, y/n,” he growled, his voice rough as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. “My good girl...”

His words are what sent you over the edge, the stimulation of your orgasm turning your vision white. 

Your body was on fire, every nerve alive with pleasure as he drove into you again and again. The tie around your neck tightened even more, the pressure just enough to leave you lightheaded, completely at his mercy. You felt every inch of him inside you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, along with your breathless moans as pleasure washed over you.

Nanami's body pressed closer as you shuddered beneath him, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through you. 

But he didn’t stop. 

Even as your body trembled, oversensitive and breathless, he kept thrusting into you with the same relentless intensity. His pace didn’t falter, and each stroke seemed deeper, more demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of the way you clenched around him.

Your moans turned to gasps as pleasure mixed with the overwhelming sensation of him continuing to push you past your limit. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin with a painful force, but he didn't slow down. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Look at you, taking it so well," he groaned, his voice dark and full of praise. "You feel so good, I don’t want to stop.”

Your legs shook around him, your body still pulsating from your release, and the overstimulation had you crying out, your nails leaving marks along his back. 

"Nanami... please..." you gasped, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to keep going. You felt like you were being consumed, every nerve on fire, and yet your body responded to his touch, desperate for more.

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, his hand still pressed firmly against your clit drawing rough circles. The tie around your neck tightened just a bit more, enough to remind you of the control he had, the control you were willingly giving him.

“I’m not done with you yet," he growled, his thrusts growing rougher, faster, his body taking full control over yours. "You can come again for me, can’t you?"

You didn’t know how it was possible, but the overwhelming pleasure began to build again inside you. His touch on your clit was insistent, his hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that left you breathless, teetering on the edge of something even more intense than before.

Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation and pleasure merging into something maddening. Every nerve was alight, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. You were already too sensitive, your mind spinning as he pushed you closer and closer to the brink once again.

Nanami could feel it—he knew exactly how close you were, how your body tensed around him. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again, y/n. I want to feel you fall apart around me baby.”

With that, his fingers pressed harder against your clit, and his hips slammed into you at a brutal pace, each thrust sending you spiraling further out of control. The pressure inside you coiled impossibly tight, and with a cry of his name, you shattered once more, the intensity of your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body shook uncontrollably, your moans turning to sobs of pleasure as you convulsed around him. The sensation was too much, too overwhelming, and yet you never wanted it to end. Nanami’s name fell from your lips like a prayer as he continued thrusting into you, his own breathing growing more ragged, more desperate.

"That's it," he growled, his voice thick with pleasure as he watched you unravel beneath him, his pace rapidly increasing. "So fucking beautiful."

He wasn’t far behind. The way your walls clenched around him, the way you shook with each thrust, sent him over the edge. 

His pace grew erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, groaning your name as he came. He tugged at the tie harshly, yanking you up form your bent over position so yoru back was against his sweaty chest, his hand gently holding your chin up. 

“You were so good for me,” he breathed, his voice hoarse, igniting a spark in you again. You remained silent for a few moments, breath staggered as you tried to catch it, still shaking with pleasure as he held you upright in front of him. 

Finally, you opened your mouth to speak, a cheeky smile playing on your lips, “I like your tie…”

[mindmelter]

Felix The Perfect Toy

Felix was the hottest jock in my school. Everyone knew who he was and everyone wanted to be his friend.

And I was no different; I was obsessed with his good-looking face, his fit athletic body, and his loud yet charismatic personality, and he had this casual, effortless way of carrying himself like he didn’t even realize how perfect he was.

But it’s not just the looks. Felix is different. While the other popular guys are absolute douchebags, Felix is kind, even to people like me. He could have anyone he wanted—everyone wants to be around him—but he never treats anyone like they’re beneath him. That’s what makes him even more attractive: he’s not just the best-looking guy in school, he’s actually good. It’s maddening how perfect he is.

I dreamed of having him all for myself, but I could barely approach him without having a full-blown panic attack. I knew someone like him would never pay attention to someone like me.

He was the captain of the school's swim team which gave him a fit athletic body to fantasize and drool all about.

Every time I watched him swimming, my mind would wander, fantasizing about licking the water on his body, tasting his hairy armpits, or finally seeing what he hides under those speedos. Unfortunately, that was all he was to me; a fantasy.

When my parents died when I was twelve, I moved in with my very wealthy grandfather. At first, he seemed like a frightening and enigmatic figure—an imposing man of few words, as people would say. But as the years passed, I gradually grew accustomed to his unique personality.

I never knew what he worked for, how he became so rich, or why he was always traveling, which consequently would leave the mansion all to myself. It was lonely, I will admit, I had no one else to share that beautiful mansion with.

One day we were having breakfast together. He was wearing a black robe, flipping through the newspaper with his usual silence, rarely acknowledging me. I sat across from him, stirring my coffee absentmindedly, my mind wandering back to Felix, as it often did.

"You seem distracted," my grandfather said without looking up.

I froze, unsure how to respond. I never talked about my feelings, especially not around him. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who cared about teenage crushes.

"Just... thinking about school," I muttered.

He lowered the paper slowly, folding it neatly before setting it aside. His cold gaze fixed on me, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat. “You’re not a very good liar, boy. What’s on your mind?"

“It’s… this guy,” I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. I could feel my face heating up.

He already knew I was gay, so that wasn't a surprise to him.

“A guy?” he repeated, almost as if testing the word. "Go on."

"Yeah, a guy from school," I said, avoiding eye contact with him, “Felix. He’s... I don’t know, he’s just... perfect. And completely out of my league.”

My grandfather remained silent, his eyes never leaving mine. I couldn’t tell if he was judging me or just waiting for me to keep going.

“I mean,” I continued, unable to stop myself now that I’d started, “he’s popular, everyone loves him. He’s the captain of the swim team, and… well, I like him. A lot. But there’s no way he’d ever notice me. I’m... no one compared to him.”

For a long moment, my grandfather just watched me, his expression unreadable. Then, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“I see,” he said slowly. “So you have feelings for this... Felix. You wish you could have him?"

I nodded, feeling embarrassed for even admitting it. "Yeah. But like I said, he’s way out of my league.”

There was a strange look in my grandfather’s eyes, a glint of something I couldn’t quite place. He stood up from the table, smoothing his robe as he moved toward the door.

“Enjoy your breakfast,” he said cryptically before disappearing into the hallway.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. I thought maybe he was just being his usual mysterious self.

A week later, it was my 18th birthday, but it could as well be any other day since I had no one to spend my birthday with, not even my grandfather, as he was still traveling.

That day at school, I noticed Felix had missed all his classes. That was odd since he had swimming practice that day. I was sad because I was eager to watch him getting all wet in the pool that day; it would be my birthday gift.

Later that day I came back home from school. The house was eerily quiet, as it often was.

When I opened the door to my room, the sight stopped me dead in my tracks. There, in the middle of my room, was a large and long box. Confused, I approached it cautiously, there was a red present lace on top of the box, I pulled it off and slowly opened the box, and inside I saw... I let out a scream and fell to the floor.

My breath caught in my throat.

Felix?

He was motionless with his eyes open, while he was wearing a white tank top and black shorts. He looked perfect, too perfect—like a doll.

I backed away, my heart thudding in my chest. "W-what the hell...?"

This couldn't be Felix; it must be an identical replica of his body, I thought. There was only one way to find out. I slowly approached him and ran my hand on his face, and I felt his soft and warm skin. It was really him, but somehow... different. His eyes were empty, and his body was unnaturally stiff. I gently placed my hand on his chest and felt a heartbeat. It was very slow... actually, too slow for a person—one beat for every five seconds—but at least he had a heartbeat.

A low chuckle came from the doorway. I turned and saw my grandfather standing there with a grin on his face. He stepped inside the room, his cold eyes drifting between me and Felix.

"I see you’ve found your gift."

I swallowed hard, "What... what did you do to him?"

"Consider it your birthday present," he said, "I couldn't let my grandson put himself down over a dumb boy, now you have him."

I stared at him, speechless.

"You don’t have to be alone anymore. He will keep you company when I'm out traveling. He’s yours now, exactly how you wanted."

"But... he’s not... he’s not real, he can't be real!" I stammered.

My grandfather smiled. "Oh, he’s real. But let’s just say I’ve made some... modifications to his brain." He stepped closer, looking down at Felix with a clinical detachment. "You can do whatever you like with him. He won’t resist. He was programmed for obedience only. He sees himself now as a toy, and you as his ultimate owner. Isn’t that what you wanted?"

*Programmed for obedience?* The thought of it sent a shiver down my spine, but not in a bad way.

I glanced up at my grandfather, and for once, I didn’t feel like I had to hide my feelings. “You... did this for me?” My voice cracked. I could barely believe what I was seeing. Felix—*my* Felix—was lying right in front of me, his perfect body ready and waiting.

My grandfather nodded, his expression still cold, but there was something else in his eyes—satisfaction.

"Of course, the way you spoke about him, I know what it means to desire something so deeply, you feel powerless. So I decided to remove that powerlessness for you."

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered, my eyes never leaving Felix’s perfectly still body inside the box, “I’ve... I’ve wanted this for so long, but I never thought...”

My grandfather chuckled, “No need for words, boy. Just enjoy your present, he’s been prepared for you.”

I stepped closer to the box, Felix's features were serene while he stared at nothing. He wasn’t just a fantasy anymore—he was real, and he was mine.

I reached out, my hand trembling as my fingertips brushed against his handsome face. Warm. Awake. And yet completely not.

“He won’t... fight me?” I asked, almost breathless.

“No,” my grandfather replied. “He’ll do exactly as you say. He’s been modified to please you, to follow your every command.”

I turned to my grandfather and smiled. “Thank you,” I said.

My grandfather gave a small nod. "I knew you'd understand. You're my blood, after all. Just remember to never let him out of the house. He's still missing as far as everyone knows. You're 18, so he's your responsibility now."

I looked down at Felix again, feeling a sense of ownership, of power, that I had never felt before. My fantasies were no longer just in my head—they were right here, ready to be made real.

As my grandfather turned to leave the room, he paused at the door, giving me one last glance over his shoulder. “Oh, and there's a manual in the box, enjoy your present."

Once he was out of my room, I locked the door for privacy. Then I picked Felix up from the box. His body was heavy, as expected, but after some hard effort, I managed to drag him to my bed.

Just for fun, I posed his right arm, making him flex.

He looked so serene, so peaceful like he was asleep. But his eyes, those beautiful eyes that I had dreamt about, stared into nothingness. They were the only indication that something was wrong—or right—with him.

I couldn't hold any more second and started to undress him, first taking off his white tank top, then I pulled down his shorts. I was surprised to see he was wearing his swimming speedos.

He probably was abducted after his swimming practice. His body was even more amazing from closer, and to think that for so long, I just watched him from afar...

The realization of having Felix lying on my bed made me start leaking.

I lifted both his arms into a flexing pose.

A smile crept onto my face as I buried my face into his armpits and took a deep sniff, but I was disappointed; he didn't smell like I was expecting to. I wanted to smell his sweaty, musky armpits, but instead, he smelled faintly like a factory or a lab.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I had to figure out how to make him more 'alive'; I needed him to produce the sweat I was so looking forward to sniffing and lick. I wanted him to act more like the real Felix.

That's when I remembered about the manual my grandfather talked about, the instructions were surprisingly detailed. It was like a manual for a very expensive, very human-like sex doll. But this wasn't a doll; this was Felix. After searching for a while, I found a section titled "Activation and Customization."

"To activate your toy, you must press a button installed in your toy's nape. This will initiate the awakening process," the instructions said. I quickly started searching Felix's stiff neck for the button, finally, my fingertips found a small, unnoticeable button hidden under his skin at the base of his neck.

I took a deep breath and pressed it. Nothing happened at first until his eyes fluttered and started to roll in circles as if it was imitating a loading icon.

Suddenly, Felix's body jerked to life. He looked around the room with a vacant expression, his pupils dilating as he took in his surroundings. I watched, frozen, as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"H-Hello, Felix," I managed to say, my voice quivering.

He stared at me, his gaze unflinching and his movements mechanical. "Hello, Master," he responded in a monotone voice. "I'm your toy, Felix. How may I serve you?"

"Ummm, can you... Can you act more like the old... umm, real Felix?"

I watched as his eyes started to swirl again; he then looked at me—the same look that I had seen countless times at school when he was about to tease someone or when he was flirting with the girls. "I'm sorry for acting weird, dude," he chuckled, his voice sounding so much more natural, he then smirked and looked around my room. "That's a nice room you have, did you win the lottery or something?" He joked.

"Well, kinda... ummm... but you are definitely my best prize so far," I said, It was funny how I was still nervous about talking with him, even though I knew he was my brainless toy now. "So, how do you feel?"

Felix rubbed his head and chuckled. "I feel fine, man. A little stiff, but I guess that's to be expected after being in a box all day." He looked down at his body, then looked at me with an eyebrow raised, "But, dude, what the fuck? Why am I in only my speedos?"

I blushed and stumbled over my words. "Well, you know, you don't have to wear clothes around me, you're my toy now."

Felix relaxed, "You're right, I don't have to wear clothes around you." With that, he stood up and pulled down his speedos, revealing his big soft cock. I gasped at the sight.

"W-what are you doing?" I stuttered, my eyes glued to his cock.

"You said I don't have to wear clothes around you, speedos are technically clothes, aren't they?" He said with a cheeky smile.

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

He walked over to me, his cock swinging gently with every step. He was so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face. "So, what do you want to do with me, dude? I'm your toy, and as a toy, I deserve to be played with."

"I-I would like you to do push-ups for me, p-please," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Felix nodded and dropped to the floor, his muscles rippling as he pushed himself up and down. I watched, mesmerized, as he performed the task with ease.

"Is this what you had in mind?" He asked, looking up at me with a smirk while still doing push-ups.

I nodded, my cock now rock hard in my pants. "Yes," I managed to say. "It's exactly how I fantasized for so long," I pulled my hard cock out and started jerking off to the sight of my crush, obeying my every command.

For so long I had jerked off to Felix's photos, and now here he was, in the flesh, doing push-ups in front of me. The reality was so much better than any of my fantasies. I couldn't believe this was really happening.

After almost one hour of nonstop push-ups, Felix's amazing body was glistening with sweat. The smell was starting to fill my room, it was heavenly! He looked up at me with a hint of exhaustion in his eyes, I kinda wanted to know how far he could keep doing pushups, but I didn't want to break my new toy.

"That's enough Felix, sit on that chair over there with your hands behind your head. I want to taste your sweaty armpits."

"Yes Master." Felix obeyed immediately, sitting down with his arms behind his head and looking up at me expectantly.

My cock bobbed as I walked to him and sat on his lap; I leaned down and took a deep breath, filling my nose with the musky scent of his armpits. I then slowly stuck my tongue out and licked the saltiness from his skin, savoring the taste of the most popular jock in my school. His body tensed, but he didn't move away.

"That's so disgusting dude, how can you get off by licking the dirty armpits of another dude?!" He exclaimed with a mix of shock and confusion, but he didn't resist.

I chuckled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "It's not just any armpit, Felix. It's yours."

After spending the entire evening sniffing and licking every inch of Felix's sweaty body, I decided it was time to take things to the next level. "Alright, Felix," I said, getting off from him, "I want you to lift your legs and spread them, keep your hands behind your head."

Felix looked at me with a mix of curiosity and confusion, but he did as he was told, his body now programmed to obey his new owner.

"That's so humiliating," he murmured.

My heart was racing. This was it—the moment I had been dreaming of for so long. I looked down at him, his body now mine to explore and use as I wished. "Don't worry," I whispered, trying to reassure him, "you're going to enjoy this, I promise."

I leaned in between his legs and kissed him softly. His body tensed up, he clearly wasn't happy about kissing another guy, but he didn't pull away and just let me explore his mouth. Encouraged, I deepened the kiss, my tongue sliding into his mouth and exploring it as he lay there, unmoving. "That's fucking gross.... uuurrghh, I'm not gay," he mumbled against my lips.

"It doesn't matter if you are gay or straight, Felix," I whispered as I continued jerking him off, "You're my toy now."

He stared at me, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and anger. "What the fuck, man? I'm nobody's toy!" He breathed out, his voice cracking slightly.

The programming really did a good job at mimicking Felix's real straight personality. Ignoring his protests, I reached down and grabbed his cock, stroking it gently, but he wasn't getting hard, of course he wouldn't, I thought with a chuckle.

"Get hard for me," I commanded, watching his cock swell in my hand. "Does this feel good?"

Felix let out a moan, his body betraying his protests. "No, it...uurrghhh... it doesn't," he gritted out, his voice filled with need.

"Then let's try this," I aimed my cock against his tight ass, I felt his body tense up, but before he could react, I inserted the tip, feeling his muscles clench around me.

"What the fuck!" He shouted, trying to sit up, but I pushed him back down gently.

"Don't move," I whispered, "I want you to love this. Remember, you're not just my toy, you're my sex toy. Your purpose is to give me pleasure."

I watched Felix's eyes rolling in circular movement for a few seconds, then he suddenly looked at me with needy puppy eyes.

"Aawwwwwwghhh! This feels so fucking good! I love how you fill my ass, dude!" He moaned.

I grinned and pushed deeper inside him, feeling his tight straight ass envelop my shaft. I began to thrust in and out of him, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm. His moans grew louder and louder; the command for him to love it was really proving to be effective.

As I fucked him, I couldn't believe how perfect it felt. Soon I was fucking him real hard, my hips slapping hard against his ass, the sound echoing through my room. As I thrust inside him, I leaned in and buried my face in his armpits. I took deep sniffs as I heard Felix's moans grow louder and more desperate.

"You're mine Felix, forever!" I moaned against his armpits as I came inside him.

While I was still inside of him, I commanded him to cum, but just when he was in the middle of his orgasm, I pressed the button in his nape, and he froze mid-orgasm, his face now frozen with his eyes rolling back and tongue sticking out.

But I was surprised to see his cock was still shooting cum all over his abs, some even landed on his face and tongue. I guess the programming isn't able to stop an ongoing orgasm.

Pulling away, I looked down at him, lying on the chair with his body covered in sweat and cum leaking from his ass. His handsome face, was now distorted in a mindless dumb expression.

I decided to give him a bath, to clean off the sweat and cum that covered him, but also because he still had some of the "factory" smell on him.

I filled the tub with warm water and called him to get inside the bathtub. He was in his mindless, obedient state; that was his default mode. I wasn't in the mood to bathe a loud and rebellious toy.

His eyes were glazed over as I cleaned his body, it was so cute.

As I washed his pecs, I couldn't help but playfully pinch his nipples. I continued my exploration, moving down to his abs and then to his hard cock, which was still hard since I first commanded him to be.

"You're such a good toy," I praised, giving his shaft a gentle tug. "I've always loved you, Felix, yet you never noticed me," I whispered as I washed his hair with shampoo, "you were always surrounded by so many friends and busy with girls, why would you notice someone like me, right?" I said, washing his pecs and abs. He didn't respond since he was in default mode, but I wasn't expecting him to. "I'm so glad we have each other now. I promise we will have a lot of fun together."

When I was finished, I told him to step out of the bath and sit so I could dry him. As I was drying his muscles, an idea suddenly came to me. I pressed his nape and gave him a command...

After I was done with the command, he tilted his head and smiled at me.

"Why use a towel, Master? Use your tongue to dry my sexy body." He then pulled the towel from his lap, giving me full access to his throbbing shaft, "And I think you should start with my cock."

__________________________

I've been enjoying my new toy for months now.

Felix's disappearance is commented on to this day, no one knows what happened to him after he left the swimming practice. Somehow, the organization in which my grandfather worked managed to clear all the evidence of his disappearance from that night.

I was back home after a boring day at school, and like every day since I got Felix as my toy, I spent the day looking forward to coming back home to him.

As I walked into my room, I was greeted with the sight of Felix "sleeping" on a chair.

He always spends the day "Inactivated" when I am out. I walked to him and pressed his nape, activating him.

When he saw me he gave me a warm smile and stretched his arms, teasing me by showing his armpits.

"Welcome back Master, please come take your daily dose of your toy's armpits."

[lycheeloving]

Why is there almost no Lex Luthor content... I saw him in Young Justice and immediately got inspired lol

Anyways, here's a yandere!Lex Luthor fic, with Superman and Batman rescuing you, but do they have good intentions? 👀 (gender neutral reader ofc)

Warnings for mind controlling/altering devices & substances ✌️ and general yandere stuff ofc

You're not the biggest fan of big events with many people, but with Lex at your side, you find you don't really mind anything, even the gala you're currently at.

Holding his hand, you happily watch him as he talks to rich people you couldn't care less about, when he turns to look at you.

You perk up as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You try to lean into it, but he pulls away too fast for your liking. At least you catch a whiff of his scent, he always smells so good...

"Be a doll and get yourself a drink at the bar, would you?"

Ah.

That's code for "we're going to talk about confidential business stuff". Sure. You can spend some time away from him, even if it makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. You'll do it for him!

You silently nod, reluctantly let go of his hand and start making your way across the room towards the bar.

As you're leaving, you make out the word "Justice League". They have been giving him trouble recently, is that what their conversation is about? You can never remember what exactly their issue is with him... He's just a CEO!

Unfortunately the bar is out of earshot, so you can't keep listening, which is exactly why he sent you away in the first place, but you sit on a stool from which you can still easily see him.

He always says that you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about his boring business stuff, so you don't, but he always looks so good when talking about it! So serious and in charge...

After ordering a fun looking cocktail you sigh, already missing him.

You didn't use to like alcohol, but everything tastes better now that you know him, so you indulge in the occasional drink.

You catch yourself staring at Lex. Maybe you shouldn't look at him this much? What if people think he's weird for dating someone who's this obsessed with him? You don't want that for him, he has so much to deal with already... Swishing your drink around, you try to tear your eyes away from him.

You sigh again.

Somebody slides onto the stool next to you and orders a fancy sounding drink. He turns to you.

"Are you ok? I could hear you sighing from across the room."

"I'm fine... I just miss my boyfriend." You hold back another sigh and absentmindedly trace the rim of your glass.

"Oh, so you came here alone?"

"No, he's over there." You subtly point at him. "He's just talking about some important business stuff without me right now."

"Lex Luthor?" He pulls a face as you nod.

"So you're..." He says your name. Apparently people know you! Huh. You hadn't realized.

"I'm Bruce Wayne, by the way."

Now that he mentions it, you don't know how you didn't notice it before. He is quite famous. You probably should have recognized him, but you were too distracted by how dreamy Lex looks...

"What are you doing with him? I mean, he's not known for being fun. Or kind."

He sounds like he's joking, but you don't think it's funny. Your face turns serious.

"You must not know him very well, then."

He holds up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. Or him, I guess..." He trails off.

Changing the topic with a grin, he says: "I'm guessing that means I don't have a chance with you?"

You shake your head. He can't be serious.

"...What if I shave my head? Would you consider leaving Luthor for me if I was bald?"

You crack a little smile at that. But your answer remains the same.

"No, I wouldn't leave my Lexie for anyone."

His eyes widen. "Oh, wow, so your relationship is pretty serious, then?"

Why would he even ask that?

"Of course it's serious, I love him!"

He pauses for a moment, seemingly contemplating something.

"...and does he love you?"

You gently touch the spot where Lex last pressed a kiss to your face and look in his direction, only to find he's already looking right back at you. You smile.

"He does." You're sure of it.

Bruce gets up from his chair as Lex starts making his way towards you. "Well, it's been fun, but I'm going to go find someone I actually have a chance with." And avoid a confrontation with Lex.

He winks at you. "Bye!"

You don't say anything back as he leaves, because you're too busy looking at Lex, who's now standing right in front of you. He puts his hands on the bar behind you, caging you in with his arms.

"What did Wayne want from you?"

"Oh, I don't know, nothing important." Already distracted, you reach up to play with his tie.

He raises an eyebrow. "Were you not paying attention to him? Good. Can't have you leaving me for him."

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, even though you know he's just teasing you.

You would never! He smirks as if he can read your mind.

"Well, I have some more business to attend to. I have informed our driver that he is to take you home whenever you wish, while I will be returning to the office."

You pout at him. "I know your work is important, but please don't take too long. I'll miss you..."

He smirks. "I know, darling. I will hurry back to you."

The kiss he presses to your lips is eagerly reciprocated by you, before he gently pulls your hand away from his tie and goes back to the people he was talking to earlier, vanishing through the door.

No reason to stay here now that he's gone, right? You finish your drink and leave the building, but as you turn to look for your driver, you bump into someone.

You go to apologize, but the other guy is faster.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

His eyes widen and he straightens his glasses.

"Wait! You're Lex Luthors significant other, right?"

You nod with a smile. How lovely that this is what people know you as!

"I'm Clark Kent, with the Daily Planet. I've been meaning to talk to you about-"

Your smile vanishes. "No comment."

Lex told you that no matter what you say, reporters twist it in a way that makes you look bad, and that it's best not to engage.

He seems a bit disappointed at your quick response. "That's fair. But off the record, can I just ask how you met him? As far as I know, you weren't a part of these circles before you showed up on his arm one day."

"Off record?"

He nods.

You think you can trust him, at least with some of it.

"We met at my workplace. I used to be a barista."

Not knowing how to make it sound nice, you leave out the part where you thought he was rude to your coworker and reprimanded him, and how you only grudgingly agreed to go on a date with him because he cornered you after work and threatened to get your coworker fired if you refused.

But it was all a big misunderstanding! During that first date you realized that you really like him and that he's a really good guy!

He just didn't know how else you'd agree to go out with him after you were so angry at the beginning!

"So it was love at first sight?" Kent questions.

"Not first sight, maybe, but I knew he was the one during our first date. It just... felt so right."

Lex, of course, did know at first sight, but he's always been smarter than you, so it's not a surprise that he caught on more quickly.

"Well, thanks for the conversation. I'm going to find someone I can actually interview now, so my boss doesn't get too mad at me. Bye!"

He stumbles towards the building, bumping into someone else. What a clumsy guy! You catch him looking at you again before he enters through the door.

You finally make your way to the driver and get into the limo, driving home in silence.

Time for a lonely night without Lex...

After you get home and get ready for bed, you put on one of his shirts and go to sleep on his side of the bed.

That way you'll definitely wake up when he returns, because he refuses to sleep on your side. He'll have to get you out of the way somehow, probably pick you up...

Burying your face in his pillow where his scent is the strongest, you fall asleep.

A noise from the direction of Lex's home office wakes you up.

You're still on his side of the bed. Did he come home and keep working? Seriously? Maybe he'll let you sit in his lap while he finishes whatever he's doing...

Quietly walking towards his room, you hear low voices. Is Lex on a call? In the middle of the night?

As you make it to the entrance, you can finally make out words. It's not Lex.

"-only let you come because you said you could be stealthy. If I knew you'd be this loud, I would have come here alone."

You sneak a look around the door. Is that Batman? And-

"This is my city, and I know Luthor better than anyone, that's why I came along. Besides, I didn't make that much noise!"

-Superman!

You take a step back. Where is the button that alarms security again...? Next to the bed, right? You start making your way back to the bedroom, but...

"We have company."

You're almost at the button, try to start running towards it, but Superman is in front of you before you can blink. Shit.

"Sorry, can't let you inform anyone that we're here, we still haven't gotten everything we came for!"

He actually looks apologetic. What is wrong with him? Breaking into your home, but pretending to feel bad about it?

He holds onto both of your arms and leads you back into the office, where Batman is tinkering with Lex's computer. What could they be looking for?

"Well, if you're here already, we might as well ask you directly. What do you know about Luthor's mind-controlling technology?" Batman asks you.

Mind-controlling? What would Lex need that for?

"I- I think you've got the wrong person. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"People who usually would never cooperate with Luthor have started working for him, so I got suspicious. After some research I was able to figure out that he uses microchips to control them. But we haven't been able to figure out how to extract them without causing damage to the person they've been installed in."

Batman takes a step towards you.

"So I'll ask one more time. What do you know?"

You really have no idea what he's talking about.

"Wh- What would Lex even use that for? I don't understand!"

"Batman, are you sure they know anything? We're already 99% sure there's a chip inside of them as well, maybe one of its effects is not remembering anything about the chips?"

"It was worth a try." Batman turns to look at Superman. "I assume this means you haven't checked for a chip yet? Make yourself useful and use your x-ray vision."

"Oh, right! Right..." Superman mumbles. "No need to be rude about it."

He focuses his gaze on you. It's pretty unnerving, knowing he's looking inside of you. There's nothing you could hide from him, nothing you could do to make him stop looking at you. You hope he's really only looking inside of you...

After looking at you for too long for comfort, he chimes up: "Yep, there's a chip! Right in the shoulder."

Of course there's a chip in your shoulder, but that doesn't mean you're being controlled!

"That's just a tracker! Lex put it there in case I'm ever kidnapped or something, so he'll immediately know where I am!"

"...You let him put a tracker in you? Voluntarily?" Superman seems confused.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I?" You're confused as well. Why wouldn't you let him? He did it because he loves you! To take care of you!

Batman doesn't seem to care, only humming in acknowledgement and going back to fiddling with the computer.

That reminds you that Lex put another gadget on you...

Your necklace (beautiful, expensive, and of the letters "LL") sends him a discreet emergency signal as soon as you take it off! You just need to be able to reach it...

"Um... Superman?" You crane your neck to look up at him.

"Do you have to hold onto me like that? I mean, just, what could I do to get away, right?"

You look up at him and try to look as confused and innocent as possible.

You glance at Batman. He seems to not be interested in your conversation at all, instead focusing on the computer. Good.

"You're fast enough to immediately catch me, before I could even take a tiny step! Just- This position is kind of awkward to be in, right?"

Please fall for it, please fall for it...

"Sure, you've been pretty cooperative so far, I don't think we have anything to worry about with you..."

He chuckles, almost embarrassed, then reluctantly lets go of his hold on your arms, flexing his hands.

Holy shit. It worked.

"Nice, thanks!" You smile. What an idiot.

Now you just have to play it cool...

Act natural and normal and not like you're up to anything...

You reach up to rub your neck, as if having turned it to look up at Superman strained it.

Well, it did, but you're mostly doing it to get your hands near the necklace. And now you just have to-

The necklace opens with a quiet click, followed by an alarm sounding from the computer.

Right. You forgot it sends a signal to all of Lex's technology, including the computer in this room. Oops.

Oh well, doesn't really make a difference if they're aware that you alarmed Lex or not. What could they do about it now?

Both Superman's and Batman's heads snap towards you. You smile. Lex should be on his way now.

"Superman, why would you let go of-" Batman cuts himself off. "Doesn't matter. I have the information we came here for. Let's go."

"Are we just going to leave them here?" Superman sounds concerned.

Batman walks towards you, holding something up to your face. "No."

It smells weird, what is that? You feel dizzy, try to pull your head away from it, but Batman is holding onto you, you can't move.

Then, everything goes black.

You wake up on a bed in a bright, unfamiliar room with an ache in your shoulder.

There's a bandage in the spot where your tracker is. Or, used to be, you assume.

Rude of them, to dig around in your body without your permission.

Lex will freak out when he hears about this. He must be looking for you already.

What is this, some kind of infirmary? Where exactly are you?

Just when you decide to get up and try to leave or find out more about where you are, Superman enters the room.

"Oh, you're awake!" He gently pushes you to lie back down. You don't object, you know how strong he is, even if he is being careful right now.

"You shouldn't get up yet, your body should still be adjusting to the chip being gone."

He looks at you with curiosity. Or with hope? You can't quite tell what his expression means.

"Which, by the way, do you feel any different? About Luthor? Any memories popping up that you couldn't remember before?"

Now that he mentions it, some of your time with Lex seems... clearer. You suddenly remember the whole chip thing. And that he's constantly trying to fight (and kill) Superman and the rest of the Justice League. And a bunch of immoral business choices. And villain stuff.

But you still love him.

"I don't feel any different."

Lex must have had a good reason to block those memories from your mind.

Maybe it was for exactly this scenario, so that if the Justice League kidnapped you, you wouldn't be able to tell them anything! Unfortunately they were able to restore those memories, but that doesn't mean that you have to tell them that and make it easier for them!

Superman looks disappointed. "Oh... That's unfortunate."

Why does he seem to be so invested in this? Just because he hates Lex? What does he care if Lex is in a relationship, that shouldn't concern him at all!

"So can I go now?" You throw your legs over the side of the bed and sit up again.

"I mean, now that you know that I wasn't influenced by that chip? You can't keep me here, that would be kidnapping!"

It already is kidnapping, technically.

"Sorry, I can't let you leave." He doesn't look super apologetic about this.

"Batman is still working on something."

"I'm done working on it, actually," Batman responds.

Wait, when did Batman get here? You didn't hear him enter the room...

Superman perks up. "And did you find anything?"

"I did." Batman turns to you, his expression even more serious than usual.

"Blood tests revealed that you are affected by a toxin that messes with your pheromones. After digging through more information on Luthors computer, I was able to find correspondence between him and Poison Ivy. Apparently they made a concoction that is specific to your dna, meaning only you are affected by it, and it causes you to be attracted to him alone. He must have used it as an aftershave or perfume, but it seems pretty long lasting. The effects should last up to a month after exposure."

No. That can't be true.

"You're lying. Lex wouldn't do that. He had no reason to do that, I love him!"

Batman ignores you. "Luckily I was able to synthesize an antidote. Hold still."

You don't hold still, of course, trying to scramble off of the bed, but Superman holds onto you.

"Shhhh, calm down. You'll feel better soon," he whispers, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear.

Batman gets closer to you with a syringe, preparing to inject you with a green liquid.

"This is going to hurt."

"Wait!" you try to protest, but-

-you feel the syringe enter your skin, and then you feel pain. In your entire body.

It hurts! Why does it hurt so much!

You squirm in Superman's grip. Your head feels like it's going to explode.

There's nothing but pain for a few seconds that feel like eternity.

But then- nothing.

You feel nothing. No pain. And-

"Holy shit." You blink.

"Holy SHIT."

What did that fucker do to you?

"I was in a relationship with Lex Luthor? Why did nobody stop me! What is wrong with everyone!"

You blink again.

"I mean, I guess you stopped me. So... thank you?"

Superman lets go of you, seemingly content that you've come to your senses.

Batman seems to be holding back a smirk.

You're not done processing everything yet.

"Why would he-"

You forget what you were going to say and gasp, distracted by a new thought.

"Wait, what the fuck am I going to do now! Where can I go? I moved in with him and he made me break off contact with all of my friends! I don't have an apartment anymore or friends to stay with!"

You look at the two heroes. "D- Do you think he'll look for me? Probably, right? I mean, we were going to get married."

You feel sick.

"Wait, is an engagement legally binding? Fuck. Can I just leave? We didn't make it public yet, but that doesn't make a difference, right? Fuck!"

Superman puts his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll take care of all of that. We won't allow him anywhere near you ever again."

Batman adds on: "And you can stay in the Watchtower for now. That's the safest place for you. He won't manage to get in here."

You frown. "Are you sure that's ok? I don't want to be a burden..."

Superman's smile gets wider, it's almost creepy.

Batman moves closer to you, putting his hand on your other shoulder. You're starting to feel a bit smothered.

"We'll gladly take care of you. For however long it takes."

You wonder if that means forever.

[starboye]

starring: rafe cameron x male reader

request: reader finds it hot when rafe wears his cap but is too shy to tell frat boy rafe that but he catches on to it ad wears it while breeding reader. at the end rafe jokes and says he knows his cap makes reader precum

warnings: smut, cursing, drugs, reader taking drugs, breeding kink, rough sex, mentions of drinking

rafe cameron, god damn it, just saying his name gets you going and it doesn't help that he has that backwards cap on making it even harder to stay sane, you watched him from across the room selling to some random people who were desperate for the edge off, you couldn't take your eyes off him though, the way his jaw clenched when someone tried to skimp him on money or the way his hands moved when he counted money.

and it's not like rafe didn't notice the crush you had on him, he always saw the way you looked at him and he loved teasing you about it so that's why he did those little small things like clench his jaw or flex his hands, now he finally wanted to give you what you silently beg for every time you're at one of his parties "hey you" rafe called out to you, snapping your head up from your phone to look at him "me" you question heart beating faster.

"yeah you c'mere" he says waving you over and you timidly make your way to him, standing over him, his legs spread open as he relaxes into the couch "don't be shy sit down" he pats the space next to him and you couldn't possibly deny the man so you sat down next to him still sorta tense "could you be anymore tense" he chuckles taking a swig of his beer before putting it on the coffee table in front of him.

"here i got something that will make you feel good" rafe says leaning forward to grab some of the white substance he was selling earlier, lining some of it on his fingers and bringing it to your lips "oh no i couldn't do that" you nervously say "c'mon it'll make you feel great" he whispers in your ear, shivers running down your spine quickly before you nod at his question "fine" you exhale.

rafe brings his finger closer and slips it into your mouth rubbing the substance across your gums, immediately calming you with a wave of euphoria falling over your body "good boy" rafe smirks bringing you back to your senses, did you just hear what your think you heard, rafe calling you a good boy?! this making your heart beats against the inside of your chest quicker and harder.

"y'know you do a really shitty job at hiding your crush for me" rafe laughs bringing his face closer with yours, his lips almost grazing against yours "wait what if someone sees" you say placing a hand on his chest to stop his movements "everyone here is either drunk or high, they wont give a fuck" he says before bringing you into a kiss, it's like the room was spinning now and you couldn't control yourself.

"please fuck me" you breathlessly say in between the kiss and you don't know why you said it but rafe was ecstatic you did "say less" and next thing you know you're in rafes bed getting fucked like there's no tomorrow, "moaning like a bitch in heat" in the words of rafe and with the help of the drugs in your system you could feel every little thrust even harder now.

it felt like you were seeing stars as rafe grunts in your ear with each thrust, and to add to it rafe didn't take off his cap, leaving it on when he saw how it made you want him more and more, his chain also dangling in your face "damn who woulda thought id e fucking someone like you tonight" he laughed watching you turn away from his gaze "aw c'mon don't do that now" he pouts turning your head to face him again.

he had that stupid smirk on his face, and you looked like at this point you could be on another planet with how far your eyes were rolling back, the wet sound of skin slapping filled the room with your moans and rafes groans, your mind was fuzzy and cloudy from the continuous fucking that you started incoherently babbling some nonsense to rafe.

"p-please" you whined out "tell me what you want" he grunts, hips viciously snapping into your with no end in sight "please breed me, i want your cum so bad" you choke out with little whimpers in between, rafe looks down at you, tilting his head to the side wondering if he really heard your words right, you wanted him to breed you? i mean you don't have to convince him anymore your wish will be his command.

"of course i will" he smirks holding your hips to fuck into you harder, you moan out loudly but luckily it's covered up by the sounds of the blaring music, rafe didn't even know why but for some reason he just leaned down and began making out with you, sloppy wet kisses across your lips and neck, as much as you were infatuated with him, he was slowly starting to grow a liking to you and he didn't know why.

maybe it was the way you moaned his name or the way you sucked him back in every time he tried to pull out or maybe it was both, either way if he was gonna fill you up he was gonna do it his way, hard and fast, vulgar words spilling from his mouth as he thrusts became sloppy and soon cumming in you, pumping drop after drop if cum into your already messy hole.

rafe hid his face in the crook of your neck, to tired to even move and you didn't mind "i can't believe you came from the sight of me wearing a hat" rafe jokes breaking the silence and drawing a laugh from you, this definitely wasn't the end to the night.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[reidmania]

soon, you’ll get better | s. reid

summary; when spencer decides to get help for his addiction, you are right by his side the entire time, even when you are both more scared than you’ll admit.

warnings; fem!reader, early seasons spencer (s2) mentions of addiction, withdrawals, getting help, hurt x comfort, its kinda really fluffy though, mentions of tobias hankel, references possible overdosing, (nobody overdoses, reader is just afraid of it happening) this is comfort, pure spencer comfort tbh.

an; heart BROKEN guys. this one hurt. remember you are not alone.

‘I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky, I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try. And I'll say to you, soon you'll get better, soon you'll get better, you'll get better soon, 'cause you have to. And I hate to make this all about me but who am i supposed to talk to? What am i supposed to do, if theres no you?’

You sit beside him, your hand resting gently on his, feeling the tension pulsing through his skin. Spencer's fingers twitch, as though his body is having a silent argument with itself—one part of him wants to hold on to you, to feel your comfort, and the other part is restless, needing something more than your touch can provide. You know what that something is. It’s been between the two of you for weeks now, an unspoken weight that has grown heavier with each passing day.

The hospital waiting room is quiet, but inside your head, it feels deafening. Your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. The seconds drag on, and you know he feels every single one of them. You squeeze his hand lightly, drawing his attention back to you. His eyes meet yours, wide and anxious, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. You see it all—the fear, the shame, the self-loathing. But beyond that, buried underneath, you still see the man you love.

"You're doing the right thing," you whisper, your voice soft, barely louder than the ticking clock.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His lips part, but no words come out. You don’t push him. You’ve learned that sometimes, silence is safer for him. His mind is always moving, always analyzing, always thinking ten steps ahead, but right now, he’s fragile. His brilliance can’t help him here. And that’s what scares him the most.

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his, grounding him in the moment. “I’m so proud of you,” you say, and you feel him exhale, just slightly. The warmth of his breath touches your lips, and for a brief second, you feel that connection again—the one that always makes you believe everything will be okay, as long as you're together.

It was difficult, sitting here and pretending like you weren’t scared. You were, you wondered if you had a right to be scared. Spencer was the love of your life, you had never once questioned that — and seeing him like this, well it wasn’t easy. Being here, wasn’t easy.

Spencer closes his eyes, a shudder running through his body. He grips your hand tighter, the pressure almost painful, but you don’t pull away. You want him to know you’re here, that you’re not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

A nurse walks by, and Spencer's eyes snap open, his body stiffening. You can feel his heart rate spike, the anxiety flaring up again.

“I can’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. His voice is tight, strangled, like he’s holding back something that threatens to choke him.

“Yes, you can,” you reply gently, running your thumb over his knuckles in slow, soothing circles. “Please.”

It was a plea, a genuine plea. You tried to be strong for his sake, he needed someone. You were his person, you would always be. But he was also your person — and the idea that if he didn’t get help you could lose him one way or another terrified you. It caused a genuine ache in your chest at just the thought of him not being him, or not being around at all. You couldn’t lose him, not at the hands of tobias hankel.

He stares at you, searching your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe strength. You aren’t sure if he finds it, but he nods, his breath coming out in shaky bursts.

The doctor calls his name. The sound makes him flinch, and for a moment, you think he might bolt. You can see it in his posture, the way his muscles tense, his body preparing to flee. But then your hand tightens around his, and he looks at you again. And you know he’s staying because of you.

Together, you stand, and you walk beside him as he follows the doctor into the office. His steps are slow, reluctant, but each one is a small victory. When you sit down in the small room, the doctor’s eyes flicker between the two of you—taking in Spencer’s pale, trembling form and the way you hold onto him as if he might disappear.

The doctor speaks softly, his voice calm and measured. You hear him explain the treatment plan, the options for managing withdrawal, the therapy that Spencer will need. It all sounds clinical, distant, like the words are coming from a place Spencer can’t quite reach.

You glance at him, watching the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his eyes dart around the room, not settling on anything for too long. His mind is miles away, you can tell. But you’re here, anchored in this moment for both of you.

“Spence,” you say softly, turning to face him. He doesn’t respond at first, lost in the cacophony of his own thoughts. So, you reach out, brushing your fingers against his cheek. His eyes snap back to you, and you see the vulnerability in them, the sheer weight of everything he’s been carrying.

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” you remind him. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

His lower lip trembles, and for a second, you think he might cry. But he doesn’t. Spencer’s never been one to break easily, even when he should. You wish he would sometimes, just so he wouldn’t have to hold it all inside.

The doctor gives you both a moment, stepping out of the room to let the words sink in. Spencer drops his head into his hands, his shoulders slumping as though the world is pressing down on him with all its weight.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You scoot closer, pulling him into your arms, cradling his head against your chest. His body relaxes, just a little, as if the touch of your skin can quiet the chaos in his mind.

“You deserve everything good in this world,” you tell him, stroking his hair gently. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m broken,” he breathes, the words thick with self-reproach.

You shake your head, holding him tighter. “You’re not broken, Spence. You’re just…hurting. And that’s okay. You’ll get better. You have to.”

Maybe it was a plea, maybe reassurance, you weren’t even sure. Spencer was single handedly the strongest person you knew, he didn’t deserve what had happened to him — nobody did. The signs had been there for a while, you noticed the change instantly and you tried to brush it off as him coping, but when it got to the point where you knew there was more, without a doubt — you had the conversation.

It took some convincing, and a few weeks before he even approached the idea — he denied for a while. You let him. You could only help him as much as he allowed you to, but then when he nudged you gently in bed one night and broke down — he wanted help, and you were happy to provide him with as much as you could, which also meant getting more help.

His arms wrap around your waist, clinging to you as though you’re his lifeline. And in a way, you are. But you know he’s yours too. You’ve never loved anyone the way you love Spencer—so deeply, so completely. He’s flawed, yes. But so are you.

When the doctor returns, you help Spencer sit up, though he keeps one hand resting on your knee, as if needing to stay tethered to you. You listen carefully as the doctor outlines the next steps, and this time, Spencer listens too. He’s scared, you can tell, but he’s fighting. For himself. For you. For what you both have.

And when you leave the office, walking back through the waiting room, you feel a shift. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Spencer’s steps are still hesitant, still burdened, but there’s a determination now. He’s facing it. He’s facing himself. And you’re right there beside him, as you always will be.

As you step out into the crisp evening air, Spencer pauses. He turns to you, his eyes soft, vulnerable, but this time, there’s a flicker of hope.

“I love you,” he says quietly, the words shaky but sincere.

You smile, your heart swelling. “I love you too.”

And in that moment, with the world quiet around you, “You will get better Spence.”

[brattyfics]

Sins of The Flesh

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Riley]

Wordcount: 3,000+

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, No physical description of OC other than her being black, Spanking, D/S Dynamics, Mentions of Heaven/Hell, Alternate Universe (Mike Is Alive), Bratty!OC, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, a tiny bit of Degradation Kink, No P in V, Slight Angst

A/N: Divider by fireflygraphics. Special shoutout to @megamindsecretlair who inspired me to write something for the first time in too long. Thank you!

Riley was the picture-perfect Southern belle. With a preacher for a father and a teacher for a mother, she always kept up her manners in public. But behind closed doors, she had a talent for getting into trouble—and her relationship with Terry Richmond was no different.

He was her very own Black G.I. Joe—six feet, four inches of solid muscle. Intense, stormy green eyes and the face of an Adonis. A flawless specimen—and completely hers.

That morning, she woke up with a familiar ache in her belly. Terry had been gone the entire week to celebrate his cousin Mike’s homecoming, while she stayed behind due to a special work project. It had been seven long days without so much as a touch from the man who couldn’t keep his hands off her whenever they were alone.

He'd returned late Saturday, slipping into bed quietly to avoid waking her.

It was Sunday morning, and as the preacher’s daughter, she knew she had to be at her best. But sleep had eluded her. The rollers she wore to sleep were uncomfortable, and she never slept well when Terry wasn’t there. She woke up feeling restless, only to turn over and see him.

He was bare-chested, the morning light making his skin glisten. The bedsheets were pushed down to his hips, and the outline of his body was impossible to ignore. Her mouth watered.

When her gaze finally made its way up to his face, his eyes were already on her. Terry was always up by six, but some days, he'd stay in bed a little longer just for her.

She kissed her way up his body, starting from his neck and working toward his lips, straddling him.

“Mornin’, baby,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, making her heart flutter. His green eyes framed by naturally long lashes—lashes she spent a hundred dollars a month trying to replicate—fixed on hers. He pulled her down for a tight hug, his lips finding her jaw. She sighed, feeling his strength encase her. 

“What time did you get in? I missed you,” she admitted, feeling a little foolish. She was a grown woman, had spent most of her adult life without him, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t breathe without him there.

His facial hair, grown in during the week they’d been apart, tickled her skin as he nuzzled into her neck—a silent way of saying, "I missed you too."

They lay there for a few moments before he stirred. One arm wrapped around her back, the other reaching for his phone on the nightstand. “We gotta get up. It’s almost eight.”

She groaned. “It’s too early.”

She was up before sunrise on workdays, but weekends were different.

“Come on, we have to.” He patted her back gently.

“Excuse you…” She sat up, crossing her arms with her legs still draped over his hips. “You just got back and you're bossing me around. You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved how spoiled she could act sometimes. She knew he’d give her the world if she asked, and it boosted his ego to know she trusted him that much—knew, deep down, he would always protect and care for her.

“Oh, you think you’re running the show now?” he teased, raising a brow. She bit her lip, debating how to respond. Terry Richmond wasn’t the type of man to play petty games with, but she liked to do it every now and then, just to keep things interesting.

“Duh. I thought you knew.”

He let out a deep laugh from his core, right in her face. She huffed and tried to move away from his lap, but in an instant, he had rolled them over, pinning her beneath him as they both giggled.

“Who gave you command?”

His hand wrapped gently around her neck, and the playful moment turned serious. He positioned himself between her legs, morning wood pressed against her thigh, and her face flushed.

“You did.” She swallowed hard, remembering the last time they were in this position—his hand firm around her throat as he took control. The unspoken command hung in the air: tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll give you what you want.

He raised an eyebrow, “Me?”

“Yeah,” She smirked, “You disappeared so I had to improvise.” Her voice softened, teasing but with a warmth that hinted she missed him. “Maybe don’t leave me hanging next time, huh?”

He shook his head with a chuckle, then his lips crushed against hers, the kiss demanding, until her thoughts were consumed by him and only him. Her back arched, hips shifting as she sought him out. His hand found her neck again as he slowly pulled away, as if it pained him to stop.

“We gotta get up. I let you miss another Sunday, and your dad will never let me live it down.”

His sudden shift in tone made her scowl, especially as he tapped her legs to free himself from her grip. “Why are you talking about my father right now?”

“Get up.” His tone tolerated no dissent, and she reluctantly allowed him to pull her to her feet.

She followed him into the guest bathroom, where he'd gone to shower in peace. She dragged her soapy hands down his back, teasing him, offering to help him dry off but using it as an excuse to grope him instead. He wouldn’t give in. She spent the rest of the morning testing his resolve, brushing against him as he scrambled their eggs, and bending at the waist to give him a peek under her slip after "accidentally" dropping the house keys.

By the time they reached the church parking lot, a frown lingered on her made-up face, fading only as they approached the church doors, where she transformed into the picture-perfect preacher’s daughter.

Smiling, saying all the right things, all the while thinking about Terry. It wasn’t right, thinking these things in church, but she couldn’t help it. She prayed for forgiveness but couldn’t stop herself from reminiscing about him—the way he drove her to the brink of madness, how good he always made her feel. 

The singing of hymns and the preaching faded into the background as she focused on the analog clock hanging above the pulpit. Church seemed to drag on even longer than usual, as if the universe were conspiring with Terry to tease her to death. He sat there, as tempting as the devil, his button-up shirt clinging to his muscular arms and thick thighs defined even in slacks.

By the time they reached the car, she felt like she was on the verge of catching fire. She’d waved hurriedly at her parents before dragging Terry out the church doors, complaining about the traffic. She was sure her mom would call her and fuss about it later, but she’d deal with that when the time came. He didn’t say a word until they were driving down the main road, his eyes glancing over at her.

“You’ve been acting wild all day. You that desperate for my dick?”

“What?” 

“You heard me. You want it that bad?” He repeated himself, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Her mouth hung open as she processed his words. In the bedroom, he was her Daddy—dominant, demanding, intense. A bit of a bedroom bully, but never harsh. She was his princess, and he treated her like one. Terry didn’t usually talk to her like this, but she couldn’t deny the heat that pooled between her legs at his words.

She wished she had something clever to say, but the truth was that her desire for him ran deeper than he could ever realize. “I can’t help it,” she admitted, leaning over the center console to caress his leg. She gave him those Bambi eyes and spoke softly. “I need you, baby.” 

“I get it. I've been counting down the days too,” He promised. His voice was steady and calm—too calm—while she felt like she was on the edge. He had unbuttoned the top of his shirt when they got in the car, and all she could think about was undoing the rest. The way the water had cascaded down his chest this morning was sinful. Her thighs clenched together subconsciously. 

“I need more than just talk right now,” She grumbled, remembering how he had rejected her earlier that morning. She’d wanted him so badly that she dropped to her knees, promising to make it worth his while. But he remained composed, pulling her back up for a soft kiss on the corners of her mouth. “Later,” he had promised.

All week, she had struggled to concentrate at work, her thoughts consumed with him. And now that he was back, he didn’t seem in any hurry to change that. He should have woken her up last night, church be damned— The same way he did any other night he wanted to be inside her. Her hand inched up to his thigh and squeezed.

When her fingertips grazed his dick, he gently grabbed her hand and lifted it from his lap. “Relax,” he warned, his voice adopting that stern tone she usually loved. But now, it just grated on her nerves. Terry Richmond—who was always so eager—was telling her to relax about sex. How many mornings had he insisted on having her before he left for work? How many days had he stalked her around the house, grabbing her any way he wanted? How many nights had he promised to “do all the work” if she just let him inside?  

She kissed her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring out at the cars ahead. He was full of it.

“What’s this? You got an attitude now?”

She snapped before she could stop herself. “What do you think, Terry?” Aggravation burned in her chest, and his eyes widened at her tone. Apparently, his week away had been too long—she had lost her damn mind. 

“Any other time, you can’t get enough of me, and now you’re acting like I’ve got the cooties. What’s going on with you?”

“What are you trying to get at?” he asked, sounding annoyed, and it was clear on his face. She stared back at him as his gaze flicked between her and the road, as if her eyes could uncover whether he had been faithful. She trusted Terry, but she already knew Mike’s wild ass had plenty of strippers and trouble around. 

What else was she supposed to think? Terry was only a man after all. 

“For real?” he replied, meeting her suspicious gaze. “You think I’d do you like that?” 

Her stomach flipped. In her heart, she felt one thing, but her head was a different monster altogether. She had a tendency to overthink and jump to conclusions. Terry usually made her feel so secure that it wasn’t an issue. “So, just because I’m not moving fast enough for you, I must be cheating, huh?” He looked at her like a wounded lion.

“I don’t know, Terry,” she shifted her gaze away from him, knowing she had overreacted. “I’m just frustrated, okay?” The silence that fell between them felt heavy. She knew she had made a mistake. “I’m sorry,” she added, her voice softening. “I know you’re not like that; I was just... I don’t know.”

Just like Muni Long, she wished for a Time Machine.

The sting of her accusation settled in his gut. He couldn’t begin to understand why she would doubt him after everything they’d been through.

Terry remained silent for the rest of the ride. Not even when he parked the car, opened her passenger door, and unlocked the house did he say a word. He let her in first, just like always, but the usual kisses to her neck were absent. Instead, he slipped off to the guest room to change while she undressed in their shared bedroom, feeling like a brat. The pretty polka dot dress and brand new stockings he should have been removing only added to her sadness.

She removed her makeup in a somber mood, then finally made her way to the living room when she could no longer put it off. Terry had changed into a T-shirt and shorts, sprawled across the couch while fiddling with the remote, flipping through channels she knew he wasn’t interested in at all.

She settled onto his lap, her thighs gripping him to keep him close. He avoided her gaze until she cupped his face in her hands, gently forcing him to meet her eyes. There was a storm brewing, one that she had caused. “Don’t be like that,” she pleaded.

She rested her head against his broad chest, cuddling into the warmth beneath her. With her chin snuggled comfortably, she gazed up into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was wrong– so wrong. I know who you are and that you wouldn’t hurt me. Please forgive me. I was trippin’.”

He took a deep breath and ran a hand across his low fade, trying to process his emotions. “You really scared me with that.” He grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “I need you to understand that it’s not easy for me to shake off what you said. I love you, but I need to know you trust me.”

“I do. I promise I do, baby. I just lost my head for a minute there. You mean everything to me.”

“Okay,” he conceded after a minute, “Just keep your head in the game, alright? Stick with me. We’re good.” Terry’s habit of framing their relationship in sports terms never failed to make her smile.

"You got it, coach," she teased, then added playfully, "Oh wait—Sir, yes sir," as she offered a mock salute.

“You always know just how to push my buttons, don’t you?”, he asked. “That’s alright, though, because you’re still under my command, recruit.” He delivered a series of sharp smacks to her behind without warning. Riley gasped as she felt the sting of each slap. 

"Terry, stop," she protested, trying to push him away, but he was unyielding.

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against her lips, staring her directly in the eyes, “You got a little too bold and need a reminder of who’s running things.”

Her stomach flipped as she realized what was happening. She had been getting more mouthy as the day went on, testing how far she could go. Now it was time for Terry to put her in her place, and while that was always fun, she knew he wouldn’t go easy on her.

As if reading her mind, Terry pulled back slightly, his gaze fierce and focused. "You know I love you, baby," he uttered softly. “But sometimes, a firm hand is needed to keep us in line.”

She nodded, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. A spanking hadn’t been a part of her agenda for the day. All she wanted was to come home, have him in their bed,  and make up for lost time, then pretend to watch TV for a little before she rode him to oblivion. But she had ruined that by being impatient. She knew that Terry was right – she had crossed a line today, and this was exactly what she needed.

Taking a deep breath, she eased into him, allowing him to maneuver her over his lap as he repositioned them on the couch. The muted sounds of the TV faded into the background as they got comfortable, her shorts rustling quietly as he pulled them down to her ankles. 

“I get that you’re used to having things your way, but that ain't how it works with me,” Terry advised, palming her ass cheeks in each hand. He took his time jiggling the fat there before his hand came down on one side and then the other. Terry was heavy handed, making sure she felt him deep in her soul. She hissed, already reaching back to cover her bottom. 

"Gimme your hands," he ordered, locking both of them in one of his own.

Terry started spanking her in earnest, and Riley felt every bit of it— the sharp sting as his hand met her skin, the heat radiating across her backside, and the firm pressure of his arms keeping her steady. 

“I’m so sorry,” She whined, squirming in his lap. “I didn't mean it!” He took a breath, grabbed her chin, and locked his gaze on her to make sure she heard him loud and clear. “I know you didn’t plan for this, but you still deserve this punishment. You gotta do better, ma.”

He went back to smacking her ass all wild, hitting it from every possible angle. “Fuck!” She cursed, getting lost in the pain and the pleasure. If the folks at church knew she had a mouth like this, she'd be too embarrassed to show her face again. With each smack, her thoughts become increasingly scrambled, swirling in a delicious haze. It didn’t help that Terry was talking her through it the entire time. 

“Remember I’m doing this because I love you.”

“You need to find some middle ground before you take things to the next level. You understand me?”

“Stay exactly like that, don’t move.”

“I know it hurts. It’s supposed to.”

“Here, grab this pillow.”

She moaned and groaned her protests but Terry was too strong and she had earned this ass whooping. She knew there was nothing left to do but surrender. Terry had her and she could let go of all her worries and concerns. She just needed to ride it out. 

As the spanking continued, Riley’s breathing grew more ragged until she was breathless. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She apologized fervently each time his hand came down on her ass, sobbing when he gave her a small reprieve, rubbing her lower back gently. “You’re okay. We’re almost done. Are you really as sorry as you’re claiming?”

“Yes, Daddy,” She whimpered, already imagining how sore she’d be the next day, hobbling into her good government job with a bruised backside. She had bit off way more than she could chew and now needed his mercy.

“Repeat after me,” Terry commanded, his tone leaving room for argument. “Say ‘I’ll be a good girl and listen.’” She immediately complied, her voice shaky but sincere as she echoed his words, fully embracing the promise behind them. “I understand that the next time I do it, Daddy is going to spank my disobedient ass all over again..” She repeated his words like a well-trained parrot, and at the moment, it was all she could manage.

She felt lightheaded by the time Terry finished spanking her, and she couldn’t recall the last thing he’d said. She had hit her breaking point.  

She laid there for several minutes, completely spaced out, and focused only on catching her breath. Terry massaged her scalp with his fingertips as they both came down from the natural high of their chemistry. Eventually, Terry lifted her up to meet his gaze, being mindful not to agitate her already bruised bottom.

“You good?” 

Her head was still reeling. She wanted to shrink into a little ball, but she also wanted to live in his skin. How could she express that to him without sounding unhinged? Terry massaged her back in gentle, calming circles until he sensed her start to unravel. She eventually nodded slowly, acknowledging that yes, she was okay— physically at least, even if her emotions were still in a disarray. 

“I’ll do better,” she promised, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with exhaustion.

"That’s my good girl," he said, gently wiping away tears from her cheekbone as his expression softened. Despite what she might think, he didn’t get as much satisfaction from spanking her as she believed. It was just something he had to do.

“Come on, pretty. I’ll fill the tub up for you, and then we can order brunch from your favorite spot.”

Forgive me for any mistakes. I had to post this before I lost my nerve, lol. This started as something completely different but I'm happy with how it turned out. Let me know what you think! For more Terry Richmond fics by other amazing young ladies, please check out my Terry Richmond fic rec tag.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

Having a family with worst!Logan

You held your newborn in your arms as you glanced around the room with a full feeling in your heart. You never thought that was going to be your reality, you thought that your long-standing crush on the wolverine died with him. Back then you were just too young for him, still much younger than your now husband. The two of you are closer in age, though it didn’t really matter. You would’ve loved Logan in every universe. This Logan was rougher around the edges, he claimed he was no hero, but in your book he was. He swooped in loving you unconditionally, without even trying or thinking he changed for you. But he never felt more like himself in your arms, with your two-year-old toddler in his lap while he sat at the dinner table with his found family.

As much as Wade got on Logan's nerves, he had given him a whole lot. You'd found Wade after years of being alone, having a run in with X-Men, where you had to flee. Deadpool was working with them at the time and wound up quitting that time because he wanted to besties with you. You found him ridiculously annoying, but he found you annoying too, the perfect pair of friends who annoyed the shit out of each other. You'd gotten on Logan's nerves as well but you grew on him in a different way than Wade had. He couldn't help but fall in love with you, giving in to you even though you were much younger than him. Logan knew about your past with this universes' Logan but he didn't care. After all the time you've had together, he knew your feeling for him were genuine.

Logan never thought he would have one kid, let alone three, four if you counted Wade. Though Laura was an adult now, she stayed at the flat once in a while to help out with your son, James. She was staying with you again when you gave birth to Anna. She was an amazing big sister, bonding with her father and you. Getting the family she had always wanted, even if it had taken awhile. Laura knew it wasn't because no one wanted to love her, they just didn't know where she was. Logan tried his best with her, having difficulty trying to be a good guy for her. Both you and Laura held him to a high standard, something you'd assume James would do to. Because even with Logan's faults, you could tell he was a good man from the second you met him.

Laura could tell the same thing, even when she was a little girl. Even though his grumpy, dickhead facade he cared deeply about others. It was funny, it was like more you frustrated or drove him crazy, the more he cared about you. Laura was wildly impulsive, something that Logan has had to bail her out of several times. He'd always show up with a stone-walled face, angry as shit, deadly silent before getting back to the house. Logan would ask her to explain, hearing her out before saying his peace.

With you it was different, the two of you bickered so much when you first met. But it was only because you wanted to get close with him, and he wanted to push you far far away. Logan already knew the risk of you having feelings for him if you had feelings for a different version of him. Your feelings for the worst Logan couldn't match the crush you had on the previous. Sure you were in love with him back then, but you couldn't have him. He didn't want you. This Logan did, he let you know how he felt even when he didn't want to. Logan only acted like he didn't want you even though he was yearning. Dreaming about you and thinking about you all the time. To a point that he could no longer resist you, giving in and loving you with all of him.

You gave him everything back, the two of you getting married and getting pregnant. Logan settling down and getting a job at the local lumber factory. Sometimes Logan didn't feel like the life he was living was real. But then you would touch him, seeing his ring on your finger, or when his son would speak to him, now the newest reminder in the form of his youngest daughter. He remembered his Rogue, a girl he'd protect over anything, naming his daughter after her. You were the one naming their son, James.

Logan held your toddler in his arms (instead of dogpool 😭), the boy playing his little action figures of the x-men. You gazed at your son, with the hair brown hair that stuck up, his hair almost mocking his fathers. Your daughter was nestled up to your chest, a binky in your mouth a small little furrow in her brow that reminded you of Logan's. You had a baby blanket made by Wade that she was wrapped in, her fresh baby smell filled your senses, comforting you. You've let others hold her for a little bit but your attached to her, having a c-section this time around. She was in the nicu for a short time, and you were feeling some postpartum depression after you got home. Being in an extreme amount of pain along with having a newborn and a toddler.

Your marriage had definitely been tested, Logan getting frustrated but coming through for you. Holding you through the pain and the fights the two of you had. It's been about a couple months, Anna seemed to grow every single day. You loved seeing your husband holding her, she was so tiny in his big arms. But she already looked so much like him, it warmed your heart. Logan was such a good father, his super hearing would aide him in taking care of the kids at night. His insomnia perfect for fatherhood and for you, taking care of you and then going to work in the morning. He worked so hard for your father, pushing himself and worrying himself silly.

Eventually forcing him to go to couple's therapy with you. The two of you growing closer as you opened up about things you usually wouldn't. Logan telling you more about his past world and everything that he'd been through. Why he felt unworthy of your love and having a family together. It wasn't that he didn't love you completely, because he was deathly in love with you. But you didn't want it to fade because he doesn't work on his mental health. Something you always struggle with but has progressively gotten better as you've aged. He was reluctant at first, because he thought therapy meant it was too late. But you said it doesn't have to get bad to work on it, there's no reason for your relationship to not get stronger. He usually didn't win arguments with you, because a lot of the time you were right.

And it was the reason why you were feeling so good after the last couple hard months. Coming out on the other side with a warm heart, feeling safe in your husbands' arms, feeling fulfilled with your little baby girl in your arms. Your family around you, enjoying each other's company. That night when everyone left, eventually you got the kiddos in the bath, and getting ready for bed. Tucking James into his room and finally putting Anna in her nursey at four months old. You and Logan still had to get up at night, but it was slowly getting better, as she grew bigger.

You finally stumbled into Logan's awaiting arms, tucking your head into his neck. His hands rubbing up and down your back, as you inhaled his familiar scent, making you melt into your husband's arms. Logan held you close, cradling your head with his other hand, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. Your hands came to his face, coming to either side of his face to connect your lips in a soft, messy kiss. Logan hummed into your lips, pulling you in closer by your hips, as his lips slowly moved with yours.

"Why don't you go take a shower?" Logan suggested, as you sighed, kissing him once again.

"Don't wanna let you go."

"I'll show ya a good time after how about that?" Logan teased, his hand coming to pat at your butt.

"You better." You rose your eyebrows, with a little smile on your face as you pointed at his chest before hooking your finger into his shirt and pulling him to your lips in puckered kiss, making you giggle.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

note: these haven't edited tonight, i'm a writing roll so i'm just trying to write write write lmao

[redrose10]

#9 from the picture game!

Warnings: None

You sat at your computer screen anxiously waiting for your husband to answer your call. He was touring on the other side of the world and you might’ve missed him just a tiny little bit.

Finally after what felt like forever he picked up.

He didn’t say anything. Just sat staring at the screen. This was the eighth time you had called in the last four hours. The thing about Yoongi is he will always answer your call as long as he’s not performing or in an interview or something similar. And you knew that and would occasionally use it to your advantage.

Like right now when you called to ask him a question that you already knew the answer to. “Y/N,”, he said softly.

Not babe, baby, jagiya, kitten. Just your name. You knew he was getting frustrated maybe even a little annoyed so this was going to have to be the last time you called him.

“Ummm do you know where our measuring cups are? I want to bake some cookies and can’t find them.”, you asked rather shyly because you knew exactly where they were. The cookies were already made and cooling on a rack in the kitchen.

Yoongi licked his lips, “They should be in the drawer next to the spoons. If they’re not there then just let me know and I’ll order a new set and have them rush delivered.”

That was just like Yoongi. Even though he was exhausted and frustrated with you he would still go out of his way to make sure you were taken care of no matter what.

“Thanks Yoongs. I’ll check there. Get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you too.”, he said before quickly ending the call.

You closed the laptop and slid it under the bed not wanting to be tempted to call him again. You were already pushing your luck.

Instead you did some laundry, straightened up the apartment, made lunch. You felt like hours had gone by so you grabbed the laptop excited to call Yoongi again as he should be awake by now.

Much to your dismay though the clock showed that barely two hours had passed. You closed the laptop and walked over to the bed.

“I can’t call him again. He needs to sleep.”, you sighed.

Maybe laying in the bed was a bad choice because the sheets still smelled faintly of him, only making you miss him more.

You tried to hold out as long as you could which ended up only being at extra twenty minutes before excitingly running over to your desk.

You waited and waited and finally Yoongi’s face popped up on the screen. His eyes were barely open and his hair was a mess. You had clearly woken him out of a deep sleep and you felt awful.

This time he didn’t even speak. He just sat there and stared at the screen.

You could feel your emotions starting to bubble up. Your bottom lip began to shake.

“I’m sorry Yoongi. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay Y/N. What do you need this time? Find the measuring cups?”, he asked.

You nodded, “Yeah I made double chocolate chip cookies.”

He nodded but remained silent.

“Umm I just…I”, you said fidgeting with a loose thread in your tshirt.

Yoongi stayed silent as he waited for you to continue.

So you said, “I was just wondering…If there was a zombie apocalypse and I got bit would you still love me even though I was a zombie?”

You saw him swallow thickly. He used his elbow to prop up his head and leaned forward to get a closer look. His eyes squinted at you and his eyebrows furrowed. His mouth stayed slightly agape. He didn’t speak. He looked like he was in shock, maybe a tad disgusted.

“I’m sorry Yoongi. I just miss you a lot. I won’t bother you again and I’ll try to change so I don’t do this again. Go get some sleep and call me when you wake up.”, you said feeling ridiculous before quickly ending the call.

You sat staring out the window for a few a moments trying to think of something to distract you. Your phone vibrated on the desk.

Your heart swelled and your cheeks hurt from how hard you smiled.

A text from Yoongi,

“I’d build you a really nice cage where I could keep you and still come visit you from afar because yes I would still love you even if you turned into a zombie. But I love you more just the way you are now so please don’t change, especially into a zombie because I like kissing you too much and I don’t want to give that up.”