#so I'm going with the motions or whatever and I get fouled

[sapphicmsmarvel]

"hey bitch, what's for dinner?"

Cassian dares his besties (eris, lucien and tarquin included) to ask their mates “hey bitch, what’s for dinner?” 

some are short. some medium. one large (for a headcanon type fic). Also this is mostly dialogue because I didn't want to keep repeating body motions (they shrug a lot, they cuddle a lot, etc, etc, etc). 

Azriel:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?” He really tried not to let his voice crack, but he couldn't help it. The idea of calling you something foul outside the bedroom is painful. 

“Based on the way your voice got quieter for that word, I'm going to assume this is a stupid dare from Cassian. And that you aren’t actually that stupid to talk to me like that.” You said as you continued to stir the pot of soup. 

“I’m so relieved you know me that well.” He couldn’t help his sigh. 

You snorted as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “If I ever actually talk to you like that, take Truthteller and use it, cause it’s not me.” 

You let out another snort. “My big baby.” You said, taking your hand up and ruffling Azriel’s hair as he pressed kisses to your neck. 

Cassian:

He came in so confident too. But quickly was humbled. 

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?” 

“Wanna try that again?” He doesn’t get scared of much, but your calm tone in this moment will strike fear into his heart.

“No, ma’am.” He shook his head. 

“And what did we learn?” 

“Never say that stuff to my spouse and mate who I love very much?” He asked. 

“Mhm.” you hummed as he came up to hug you. “Speak to me like that again and I’m cutting your hair off.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Rhysand:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

He didn’t even get a chance to breathe after that sentence because you turned around with the knife in your hand. Seriously, what an idiot approaching you with that stupid shit while you’re cooking dinner. You’re hungry and holding a knife. 

You stabbed it into the countertop, it made a twang sound and shook from the force of you stabbing it. 

“The fuck did you just say to me?” 

“…” 

“Go on say it again since you wanna be all cocky.” You leaned against the counter with your arms crossed. 

“I love you.” Not much scared him, but his wife humbled the shit out of him. 

Your mouth made a flat line and your brows raised as you said, “Mhm.” 

“And I’ll do whatever you want for a month. Hell, the rest of our lives.”

“Mhm.” You ripped the knife out of the counter and then turned around and continued chopping vegetables. 

“Honey?”

“You know, I think I’ll invite Feyre and her wife over for dinner. They wouldn’t call me that.” You continued. 

“Baby,” he began and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Maybe I’ll invite Cassian and Azriel’s wives too, they’ll understand what it’s like to be married to the stupidest motherfucker we know.” 

He pressed a kiss to your clothes shoulder. 

“Are you done?”

“You have no idea the doghouse you’re in right now.” 

“Does it help if I told you that Cassian dared me.” 

You set the knife down and turned around in his arms. “You’re still an idiot.” You wound your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with baby hairs growing at the nape of his neck. 

“I know.” 

“Good,” you said and smacked his ass.

He yelped. 

Feyre:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” You asked. 

She couldn’t help but giggle. “I love that you humble me.” 

“Me and Rhys’ wife have a load on our hands considering you fools are best friends. You have got to stop influencing each other.” 

She hummed at the thought of her best friend and his wife. She put her arms around your waist and you leaned into her. “One day, we’re gonna snap and kill you.” She kissed the area between your neck and shoulder. “We have the best wives.”

“You got that right.” You reached around and smacked her ass. But you miscalculated and hit her hip. 

Morrigan:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“Nothing, slut. Bend over the table and spread your cheeks, if you think you can talk to me like that I’ll show you otherwise.” 

 You sat up from your spot on the couch looking at her with a “WTF” expression. 

The woman was too stunned to speak.  “It was a joke but now I’m horny.” 

You laughed, “into degradation are we?” 

“Didn’t think I was, but hey you learn something new everyday.” She shrugged, actually thankful for Cassian because now she could explore this new thing with her wife. 

Amren:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?” She opened the door to your shared home to yell. When she heard nothing but silence she was concerned, she could smell you, you were home. 

“Y/N?” She called. 

She walked into your living room from the entry hall to find you standing there. Staring at her with sad, wide eyes. 

“Love?” 

“….what’d i do?” Your voice wavered and she couldn’t take it. She pulled you into her arms and rocked you side to side. 

“If I ever speak to you like that, you better smack me across the fucking mouth.” Was all she said. “Why’d you say that?” You sniffed. You two pulled away from each other, only enough to lean your foreheads together. “Cassian got it in his big dumb brain that it was a good idea to say that to our mates.” She whispered and wiped your cheeks with her thumbs. 

“He’s an idiot.” You deadpanned. 

“I'm aware.” “And you’re an idiot for doing it.” 

“I deserve that.” Was all she said before she kissed you. 

Nesta:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

You were silent and she looked at you from her spot on the couch. You were staring at her wide eyed, your eyes began watering. 

“Y/N?”

“That really hurt my feelings, Nes.” You were about to cry. 

She shot off from her spot on the couch and crawled into the chair you were sitting in. She pulled you into her chest. 

“Oh baby.” She said, “it was a stupid fucking prank from Cassian.” She whispered at the top of your head, kissing your hair. 

“Tell that overgrown bitch of a bat to watch his back.” Your voice was muffled from her tits. 

“I will.” She scratched your head lightly. 

“Nes?”

“Yes, my love?”

“You ever speak to me like that again, I’ll make you wish you never met me.”

She let out a laugh like breath through her nose. “Okay, baby.” 

“Tears and all I’ll pummel you.” You declared and she kissed your head, rocking you back and forth. 

“I know.” 

Elain:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“I will grill your flowers if you talk to me like that again.”

She cackled like the witch she is. 

Lucien:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“Soap.”

“Soap?” 

“If you’re going to talk to me like that, you’re getting soap. Bitch.” You threw a jar of soap at him. “Go put that on spaghetti.” 

Eris:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

You whipped off your shoe and threw it at him. Feyre taught you that move. He didn’t duck, he just let it hit him because he knew his dumbass deserved it.  

Tarquin:

“Hey bitch, what’s for dinner?”

“My ass.” 

He loves that you match his freak, “I'm so relieved you didn’t think I was serious.” 

“You aren’t that stupid, plus, Azriel’s mate sent a missive because he tried it.” 

“Drinking with Cassian is the worst.”

“And yet, your dumbass still did it.” 

“The drinking or the dare?” “Both.” 

[pressureplus]

Sebastian Solace Injury Headcannons

Warnings: Mentions of blood, anxiety, and Injury, but nothing too particularly graphic, You show up at his shop hurt and he takes care of you

(The way he cares for your injuries slightly varies depending on your relationship)

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

Platonic

• Immediately starts to chastise you the second he can smell the blood on you

• He doesn't have a nose, so how he scrunches it up is beyond you

• Your med kit isn't free, so you definitely owe him and yes, he will remember you owe him

• You can't refuse tho, he's already patching you up before you can really do anything about it

• What are you gonna do, fight him? Fight a thing more than 5 times your size with claws like steel knives? I don't think so.

• He's pretty good at patching wounds, and stays relaxed the whole time he's doing it

• The motions are practiced and easy as he cleans and gauzes and wraps you up

• "Because I pity you, I'll even let you lay on the cot in the corner of my shop, hmm?"

• Understands you are useless and stupid and small, so he guesses he can help you out and demand whatever extra data you have I'm your pockets about a week from now

• He isn't exactly the most concerned with your well-being, but does go out of his way to help you and take care of you sooo...

• You must mean something to him right?

If you're not together but he likes you

• Actually gets a little worried

• He flusters easily, the crush he has for you making it a little bit more difficult for him to think clearly

• That crush making his harsh reactions harsher and his soft ones hard to verbalize

• He grabs you

• I don't have any other way to put this, he literally just reaches out and grabs you before he really thinks about it

• You don't get an explanation, you don't get scolding, he just huffs and gets pissy while he's patching you

• "I thought you were better than this- You REALLY ended up this hurt over something so easy to get away from?"

• Yes, he knows the foul mouth he's got is tanking his chances of ever actually being with you, but he already figures you're never going to want to kiss a fish so why should he care?

• Even if rejection is imminent and unavoidable, and even if he feels the constant need to be mean to you so he can protect himself, he'll still take care of you

• He does like you for a reason- a lot of reasons. And he thinks about those reasons quite a bit... Of course he wants you to be okay

• You're his favorite person, and he would rather die than admit that but also would 100% prioritize your medical care over working his shop

• Him being so fast to grab and tend to your wounds is probably one of the only things you've ever seen from him that's made you sure he doesn't hate you

• Look, there's no way this man would be smoothing his thumb over your newly applied bandages and looking upset at the notion you'd be hurt without you being SOME kind of important

• It doesn't matter how stupid you are, dummy or not, this shit is painfully obvious when he's getting vulnerable over the idea of you getting a nasty enough scar

• Will not let you leave the cot in the room until you're all better, so get ready to be defensively degraded by your favourite shopkeeper for several consecutive days!

If you are together

• Open. Meltdown.

• Panicking, throwing the door on his little store closed and coddling you like you'll fall apart if he's not treating you with the utmost care

• Even scraped knees and bumped elbows get treated like they need full medical, so you can imagine the sort of reactions you're getting to actually bleeding

• Part of him immediately blames himself while he's frantically tending to your injuries, thinking he should have watched you better today, thinking that he should have protected you right

• The next part of him promises he'll be getting whoever or whatever did this to you back for it just as soon as you're all mended and comforted

• He's a mess, a muttering, coddling mess

• You get little kisses to the bandages, as well as some quiet murmurs that attempt to get onto you for not being careful

• The grip you've got around this man's heart is too much for him to be angry, nor pretend to

• You may nearly make him cry if it's bad enough, and his hands may shake at the sight of you so hurt

• Will threaten you if you even THINK about dying, remember he can do worse to you and will if you don't shut up, he can't cope with thinking about losing you shut up shut up shut up-

• Until you're healed, you aren't leaving his bed. He puts you in HIS bed and cuddles up to you any chance that he gets

• You're going to get teased when you're all better and his brain registers it's not a big deal, but until then this is your big, protective fishy husband whether you two have gotten married officially or not

[rillian4e]

Scaramouche x f!reader

cw: nsfw, modern au, dom!scaramouche, sub!reader, fem!reader, pet names, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, foul language, teasing, spanking etc...

summary: your annoying roommate Scaramouche is done with your little antics, and decides to teach you a little lesson.

a/n: This was a request sent as a submission which is why I can't include anon, hope you enjoy

your roommate Scaramouche has been getting on your nerves, constantly ignoring you when you tell him to do something, and never talking to you without swearing or calling you names. it was really too much for you—who was he to act like that? instead of confronting him and communicating, you set yourself on a plan to tease him relentlessly, maybe then he would regret being such a jerk.

but of course, nothing ever goes according to the plan perfectly. it was finally the day to set your plan to motion, purposely wearing a short mini skirt with a cute pink top, you knew Scaramouche would now be in his room gaming, so you went ahead and made some snacks for him to enjoy, you knocked on the door and entered when you heard "I'm busy, leave." ignoring the way he glared at you when you entered anyway, you went and placed the tray of snacks on his desk, you knew just how much he loved those snacks paired with his favorite bitter tea. "Did you get hit in the head or something?" at his question, you shook your head, smiling "Of course not, I simply thought it'd be nice to do something for my roommate." Scaramouche did not believe that, eyeing you suspiciously before turning to his game, mumbling a quick "whatever", it was a success, that was after all the needed step before the main part.

you then started doing even more sweet things for him, wearing pretty outfits and being affectionate as if you two didn't argue every single day before. Scaramouche caught on and asked you where you were going, "Have you found yourself some stupid boyfriend? You've been getting all dolled up recently, it's annoying." he exclaimed, looking at you who just smiled sweetly, avoiding the question.

The next stage was the most impossible, 'accidentally' having your things drop on the floor as you bent over to pick them up in front of your roommate, getting out of the shower while only having a towel around your body, and wearing revealing outfits. only an idiot wouldn't catch on that, Scaramouche was well aware of your little antics, he could hear you touching yourself in your room, the thin walls not helping the sounds travel to his room. the last straw for him was when you asked him to fetch your towel which you just so happened to have 'forgotten', instead of simply giving it to you, he pinned you to the wall in the bathroom, embarrassed that you were now naked—infront of your roommate who you absolutely hated, you tried to break free of his grip which only lead to him tightening his grip on your hands. "What are you trying to do, slut? Think I haven't got a clue on what you've been doing, hm?" he asked, looking down at you before he went in for a kiss which caught you off guard.

"Is this what you wanted? Want me to fuck you like the whore you are?" you felt flustered at his words, feeling aroused by the situation, a moan escaping your lips when you felt his knee pressed in-between your legs, he wasted no time in putting you on the nearest surface, forcefully spreading your legs apart, as he kneeled, holding your thighs, a smirk forming on his face at the sight of your dripping core. "Looks like someone was waiting for this, huh?" he asked, giving your cunt a spank which made you cry out.

before you could react, his tongue was inside your pussy, occasionally sucking on your puffy clit and giving it slaps when you tried closing your legs, he didn't care about how embarassed you were, diving his tongue inside your tight hole. "...fuck, you taste so good...", his cock was already aching hard, wanting your tight walls wrapped around his length, but before that he was going to make you beg.

as you were close to cumming all over his tongue, his movements stopped, "Wh‐ w-why did you stop?" you asked, confused as you looked at him, he seemed amused, not even hiding his grin, "Only good girls get to cum, not naughty slutty girls like you." was all he said, you could tell what his intention was, you frowned but gathered all your courage as you gazed down at him. "Scara...p-please...I really need it, s' badly... I'll do anything! Jus' please let me cum, I'll be a good girl...!" you tried your best convincing him, surprisingly he was satisfied with that, his tongue continuing to bring you to your climax. however, he didn't give you any time to calm down from your orgasm, instead pinning you on the counter, and freeing his shorts before plunginginh his cock deep inside your cunt, "Ha...so tight..." he groaned, pressing his face into your neck, his length stretched you out in two, something you haven't felt in so long, "Look at you, your hole is clenching around me, are you that happy that you finally got what you wanted?" He asked, chuckling lowly as he saw your expression, his rough and fast pace not changing even when tears formed in your eyes—Scaramouche was delighted at the feeling of your pussy being so warm, so wet and so, so tight, he's regretting that he didn't fuck you sooner. "Mmh... maybe I should have just done this earlier, yeah? Bet you dreamed of your roommate fucking your hole like this, if not, why else would I hear you moan and touch yourself when you know I'm just next room to you?" you couldn't respond to him, too dumb on his cock to form a sentence, you felt yourself cum on his cock, what irked you was that Scaramouche didn't bother slowing down his pace, instead only rutting with more force into your overestimulated cunt. "s' t-too much!" you cried out, looking at him for some sympathy but only earning a slap to your clit, "Shut up, you're gonna take it like a good fucktoy, like the big girl you are."

you were powerless to resist, only getting more turned on at his degrading words, gosh, you loved it when he was being mean to you. Maybe it wasn't so bad to have him as a roommate? you pondered the question, was it really that bad when he could fuck you so nicely, fill your womb full of his cum?

[waiting-for-a-sunny-day]

1. “You think you’re the only one who can find a date?” Geto paused his inspection of himself to meet Gojo's gaze in the mirror. “Ah, no, sorry. You don't go on dates. You have to know the other person's name for it to count as a date.”

Behind the near black of his sunglasses, Gojo’s eyes widened with exaggerated offense.

“You can’t slut shame anymore, Suguru. It’s 2010,” Gojo teased, as he flopped back on Geto’s bed.

“I’m not slut shaming you. I’m saying you’re not in a position to act like me going on a first date is a scandal."

Gojo tipped his head backwards and leveled Geto with an over-dramatic eye roll. 

He does that to make people notice how pretty his eyes are. 

“It’s not a scandal. It’s…”

Whatever Gojo thought it was was a mystery, because he was uncharacteristically lost for words. 

Despite what Gojo might accuse him of, Geto was not a sex negative person or a prude. 

He was just madly in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate, and every time Satoru stumbled home with his clothes rumpled and his hair fingered through, Geto felt like burning Tokyo to the ground.

It was all the unhinged, unrealistic pining that led Geto to make this plan in the first place.

The Plan: Geto was going to get over his straight, no-strings-sex-only, relationship-phobic best friend.

Step One of The Plan: Find literally anyone else in the entire world that he could think about kissing without wanting to die.

- - - - Read more cut - - - -

A month earlier, he’d gone so far as to get a guy’s phone number. He’d popped into a café after a particularly foul curse he’d absorbed – hoping to wash the taste out of his mouth with tea and a pastry – and the barista had such a stark white shock of messy hair that Geto had done a doubletake to make sure Gojo wasn’t fucking around in a coffee shop on some bizarre mission objective.

The barista had been, admittedly, extremely attractive. His hair was bleached, but it suited him, and he had pleasing, well-proportioned features. Working on pure adrenaline and determination, Geto had asked him for his number. The guy had turned beet red but managed to stutter out his info to Geto.

Almost as soon as Geto left the café, though, the little nits and snags started to pop up in his mind.

Obviously, the eyes were all wrong. The shyness wasn’t right. The smile. His voice. He wasn’t tall enough, and his hands didn’t have that same graceful strength.

It was a laundry list of how fake-Satoru was emphatically not Satoru.

Geto wasn���t even all the way down the block before he deleted the barista’s info from his phone.

Now Geto was on attempt number two: a first date with a man who in absolutely no way resembled Satoru Gojo.

His non-Gojo-ness was exactly what prompted Geto to ask the man at the train station for his number. Shota was short, burly, square-faced, and serious. Geto had only clocked the man’s interest by the overly long looks he’d shot him.

At least I'm good at reading people…

“Hey, you should bring her back here,” Gojo said – pulling Geto’s attention back to the present. “We can watch that new horror movie. Human Earthworm.”

…unlike my oblivious best friend.

“Are you seriously asking to be the third wheel on my date?”

Gojo’s face was upside down - his head practically hanging off the end of Geto’s bed. The odd angle must have been what made Gojo’s smile look off.

“You worried she’ll be more interested in your hot roommate?”

Geto shot him an unamused look.

“I don’t know why anyone agrees to sleep with you,” Geto lied. “Your head’s so big, it seems like a crush risk.”

“They can tell I’m killer in bed,” Gojo smirked. “The risk is worth the reward.”

Geto turned away and pulled at the shirt he was wearing. He didn’t totally love it, but he also didn’t care as much as he should about impressing Shota.

It wasn’t as if Geto was about to fall in love with this train station stranger, but if he at least went through the motions, maybe his brain would get with the program and start considering non-Satoru people as potential romantic interests.

“But, seriously, Suguru,” Gojo said as he folded his hands under his head – making the hem of his shirt ride up. “What’s up with this date? I thought you weren’t into that sort of thing.”

Geto’s eyes drew immediately to the sliver of skin above the waistband of Gojo’s slim-fit black joggers. 

The peek of skin couldn’t have been more than an inch wide, but Geto could see twin ridges of definition. The visual set Geto’s mind racing, thinking about the rest of Gojo’s skin.

Damn him for having a nice body.

“I’m trying to make myself get into it,” Geto said, wholly distracted by seeing Gojo’s abs and trying to not let his body get worked up, as if he were still a horny highschooler.

“Ohhh,” Gojo replied, his tone brightening. “I get it.”

Geto’s stomach flopped over as Satoru sprang up.

Did I just out myself?

“What do you get?”

“Nothing,” Geto said with a toothy grin that implied otherwise. “But - just so you know - I like you the way you are, Suguru.”

The idiot part of Geto’s heart – i.e., the whole of it – thumped hopefully.

“If you don’t want to date anyone, don’t date anyone,” Gojo added, cheerily. “I won’t let anyone talk shit about my best friend. I mean, who cares if you’re a virgin?”

Geto’s idiot heart plopped down into his stomach.

Gojo thought he was a crotchety prude who’d rather spend his whole life celibate than have any fun, and he still definitely had Geto squarely in the friend zone.

Obviously you’re in the friendzone, you idiot. He’s straight.

(Complete fic on AO3)

[cambria-writes]

i don't know what to say. i'll apologize for the previous cilffhanger and this one but i promise, swear that you will not need to wait a year for the next update. i'm... uniquely motivated to keep going. should probably be able to wrap everything up in the next 2-3 chapters.

cheers to finally having some smut! 🥂

pairing: patrick jane x named reader word count: 3,278 rating: E for explicit content warnings: SMUT, good girl used probably too much, soft dom!jane, reader is mentioned having hair long enough to grab, female reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), so much foul language, insecurities addressed, age gap solidly confirmed (approx. 10 years but you can interpret that however you want)

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔒𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔰

Your legs feel like jello when Jane pulls the door behind him. It’s still left ajar, which you appreciate, but it’s enough for you to feel isolated. Alone. An entirely jarring feeling when you felt entirely too seen not even a minute ago.

You can’t see your clothes when you look around the guest bedroom. Spartan is what you’d call it if you had to describe it, though it’s clear someone’s been using it recently. It’s not hard to imagine why; you don’t think you’d want to sleep in the room your family got murdered in, either. When you sit down on the chair by the bed, pulling at the hem of your loaned shirt, you can’t see your clothes anywhere. Not that you wanted to get dressed; that would give the impression you’d want to go home, right?

You definitely don’t want to go home yet. Not right now.

Though whatever half-awake, fragile moment you’d had with Jane before is pretty much gone with your sleepiness, there’s still something nestled in your stomach. A feeling you wouldn’t call uncomfortable, but definitely isn’t familiar. The sound of the door creaking open nearly makes you fall off the chair.

“I did knock,” Jane says, a little sheepishly. He stays in the doorway, though, hand on the knob like he’s ready to go back out.

“I’m thinking too much again,” you say quietly, with a huff of laughter. You glance up at him quickly before turning your eyes back down to your hands and the way your nails dig under the shirt hem.

You don’t hear the floorboards groan when Jane walks up to you, don’t hear anything when he couches in front of you. You don’t flinch, to your own surprise, when his hands cover your in your lap and still your movement. He waits for you, because he knows just as well as you do, somehow. You’re not even sure what’s known, just that there’s a vague sense of understanding. You take a deep breath, clear your head while you nod to yourself, and look up.

“There she is.” His smile is small but god it feels radiant to you. Warm. Safe, against all odds.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking another deep breath and letting your shoulders sag, trying to let the tension out of them. You fight the urge to look away and fidget with your hands. “Yeah, I think I’m done with my thinking.”

Jane hums and nods. “And what were you thinking about?”

“Wha—what I want,” you stutter out. You can feel the heat burning in your cheeks, which in turn just makes you even more flustered. You pinch your lips shut though.

One of Jane’s hands leaves your and moves to the outside of your thigh, just above your knee. If you thought the ‘fragile’ moment from earlier had imploded and vanished, you’re quickly realizing that it very much did not and that someone—whoever the fuck had the gall to call Jane this morning—had simply hit pause.

“And what is it that you want?”

“I don’t know if I have the words for it,” you reply, a little too quickly. Jane cracks a smile and the hand at your thigh begins a slow motion upward. “I—no, I just. It’s…”

“Uncomfortable?” He offers, and you offer a small nod. “What makes it uncomfortable?”

“Besides the overwhelming risk of rejection and humiliation?” You ask, voice pitched and quiet. When you start biting at your lower lip, the remaining hand covering yours quickly comes up to pull it from between your teeth.

“I won’t humiliate you,” Jane says slowly, and you can’t help but notice that his eyes are very obviously not looking into yours, and his thumb is still just below your lips. The hand on your thigh is as close to your hip as his arm will allow, thumb rubbing circles into the skin. When his gaze does meet yours again, all traces of a grin are gone and—god, his pupils. “What are you worried is going to be rejected?”

You exhale shakily and breathe in just as unevenly. “Me.”

“Why?” Jane looks back down and, after slowly putting a knee to the floor and effectively kneeling in front of you—the image of which is doing things to you that you wouldn’t dare mention in polite company—he carefully pulls his hands away from your face and thigh and taps at your right leg for you to lift it. He rests your foot on his knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze before moving his fingers to dig into your calf.

“I’m…” you start, unsteady, eyes fixed on the fingers working through the muscles of your calf. “I’m younger, I’m—I don’t know, I’m clueless? I got shot, I got kidnapped, I let you drag me into really, actually, really questionable situations. That’s dumb. That’s entirely dumb.”

“So you’re worried of being rejected because you don’t think you’re smart enough,” Jane summarizes, and coming out of his mouth you realize it does sound a little silly. You can’t help the shiver that makes it down to your legs when his hands make it to your knee and you can feel his fingers working out a knot you didn’t even know could exist behind it.

“...well it sounds childish when you say it like that,” you huff, and you resist the urge to cross your arms. “But yeah. Yes. I don’t feel smart enough.”

Jane gently guides you to put your leg down and taps the other one to bring it up. The same process starts again, from the soft touches at your ankle to the massaging of your calf.

“I can assure you,” he starts, voice low and cadence slow. “That you are infinitely more clever than you let yourself believe you are.” Close your eyes against the slowly increasing burn behind them and breathe through your nose. You feel warm fingers dig into the tendons behind your knee, sliding underneath your thigh to get at the muscles there.

There’s a lot to unpack here. The attraction to someone older than you, the unwillingness to believe anything good about yourself, the fact that speaking your mind feels shameful enough that your brain shuts down, but...

Jane smooths both hands over your hips, under your borrowed shirt. You can’t help the sharp intake of breath you take and the shiver that spreads out to your limbs from your spine. His hands stop their ascent at your hips, but just above the waistband of your underwear. Thumbs rubbing slow circles in the skin just above your hip bone.

You open your eyes again when you feel a soft kiss on your right knee. When you look down, the sight makes your breath catch in your throat.

You don’t think you’ve ever really understood the meaning of the word ‘reverent’ until just now.

You take a stuttering breath and lift one of your hands to rest atop the disheveled blond head in front of you. Jane exhales almost like he’s chuckling. His hands slide back down the length of your legs before he places them on the seat of the chair, on either side of your thigh. You don’t know if the lump your swallow past is anticipation or disappointment. He leans forward what feels dangerously close as he slowly stands. Pauses when his face is even with yours, and it’s a struggle to keep your eyes trained on his.

“You’re sure this is okay,” Jane asks, but it sounds more like an uncertain statement. You wonder for a second why he seems so hesitant and careful—treating you like glass even though you’ve been shot and been perfectly fine.

And then you remember the cave, the clammy demanding fingers. Close your eyes against the memory and take in a deep breath that sounds like a gasp.

But it’s fine. It is. Jane’s hands don’t feel like hers, this room doesn’t look like that, everything smells... safe. Alive and warm and safe.

“Yea-yes. Yes,” you repeat, clearing your throat and opening your eyes. “This is different,” you add, under your breath, and can’t help but let your eyes travel down to Jane’s mouth before jumping back up.

You can feel Jane’s amused exhale on your lips before he stands straight. With a gentle hand on your neck, guides you up to stand, too. It’s with a gentle tug to pull you in that he kisses you. And unlike last night, you’re about as lucid as you could be, and this is not chaste. You splay your hands over his bare stomach when he coaxes your lips apart with his. Where Patrick shudders at the touch, you can barely recognize the relieved and almost needy whine that slips from your mouth into his. The feeling of his tongue against yours has your knees almost buckling. You’re quickly steadied by a firm hand at your waist and the one at your neck sliding down to grab your shoulder.

“You need to breathe,” Patrick whispers, almost laughing, against your lips.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and the giggle that bubbles up feels foreign and almost manic. “I just—you’re so...”

“No need to be nervous,” Patrick mumbles, into your cheek this time, as he slowly moves to turn you. “I won’t bite unless you ask nicely.”

You pull back a bit too quickly to take a look at his face, but lose your footing in the process. You find that you comfortably land back on the bed, springs bouncing you back up one of twice before you settle. You barely have the time to lean up on your elbows to look up at Patrick before he places his hands behind your knees and tugs to pull you to the edge of the bed.

Your heart leaps in your throat. You really hate to assume anything and especially in moments like these but. But you’ve seen this movie—pretty much literally—and you have a feeling you know what’s supposed to come next. Jane must see the look of both shock and apprehension on your face, because where his expression has been pretty tame and affectionate, there’s something dark and hungry there when he sees your eyes go wide.

“Never had someone go down on you before?” he asks, and the crassness of it makes you remember how warm your face is. You don’t miss the way his hands are slowly creeping back up the outside of your thighs. Don’t miss the way that you have no choice but to keep your legs spread on either side of his.

“Uh, on-one, bitched the whole time, wasn’t uh,” you clear your throat again, bring your cold fingers up to your cheeks to try and dim the heat. “Wasn’t pleasant.”

Patrick clicks his tongue and shakes his head in obvious disapproval. He goes down on a knee when you feel his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. Your heart feels like a hummingbird in your throat when he slides it over your hips, down your legs and off your feet.

“Hands off your face,” Patrick says, though the hard tone in his voice makes it sound like an order. Your hands slip down over your chest before you can even think about it. His hands slide back over the top of your thighs, glide over and around your hips, and stop to rest just over the curves of your ass. Pulls you just a bit closer with a short tug.

“Oh god, fuck,” you whisper, swallowing thickly when you feel his warm breath against your cunt.

“Double tap for me to stop,” Patrick says, but doesn’t move immediately. Lifts his head and pinches with a hand to get your attention. “Understood?”

“Yessir,” you choke out, all at once, and immediately bite down on your tongue. His eyes narrow and he—you think it’s a hum, but it sounds so guttural you’re tempted to call it a growl.

“Good girl.”

You can’t see his head very well past the shirt you’re still wearing, so your spine arches nearly clean off the bed when you feel something wet slide all the way up your slit and catch on your clit. Your throat clamps around the whine that wants to leave it, only a choked exhale exiting your lips.

You open your mouth to say something, but your mind blanks when Patrick puts his lips around your clit and sucks. You swear your see stars for a second before he eases off, letting his tongue flick over it instead. When your body loses some of its tension, the whine that was choked before comes out as a whining moan on your exhale.

Patrick goes back down to tongue your entrance, only cursorily, before returning his attention to your clit. It feels like every other time you exhale is a breathy moan. You bring an arm up to your mouth to quiet yourself—you feel embarrassed is what it is—but a nip on the inside of your thigh makes you yelp. Patrick pulls a hand forward and slides the shirt you’re wearing up to your sternum, fingers splayed wide.

“I want to hear you,” he grunts, returning his tongue to your clit. You pull your arm from your face. When you feel two fingers slide up and down your entrance, though, you let yourself reach down and thread your fingers through his hair. “Just like that,” he mutters against your cunt, sliding both fingers in with ease.

But slowly.

“Fuck, please,” you whisper-whine, angling your hips up to try and get the fingers deeper. The hand on your chest slides down, until Patrick’s whole forearm is across your hips and holding you down against the mattress.

His fingers do, blessedly, slide in deeper, but unexpectedly hook up in a come hither motion, and you nearly choke at the sensation. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, tips just brushing your entrance, before thrusting them back in. Again, bends his fingers and pulls them out.  Bit your lips and arch your back against the feeling. You’re realizing, on the third thrust, that maybe you don’t know your body as well as you think you do.

The fifth time Patrick pulls his fingers out, you can almost feel your orgasm in the back of your throat. He lets you angle your hips up this time. When you do, he once again seals his lips over your clit and sucks, but he also violently increases the speed of his fingers. You hope his knuckles leave bruises.

“Fuck, please,” you whine again, back arched and hips thrusting upward. You want to scream when Patrick takes his mouth off you, fingers still thrusting wildly.

“Ask nicely,” he breathes. You sob, hips still twitching trying to chase your high.

“I did, I did—I am! Please, fuck, please sir?”

“There you go.”

You don’t have time to think about the meaning of that before his lips are back on your clit, sucking, but this time he flicks his tongue over the nub.

Patrick’s fingers massage your inner wall while you come with a screamed sob that you don’t contain. At some point you register the fingers leaving and the sound of liquid hitting the floor, but you’re spent. Dazed and all but convulsing with your heart pounding in your ears and your head feeling like cotton.

And then Jane’s leaning over you, a forearm on the mattress by your head, brushing a hand across your forehead and down your cheek.

“Exceptional,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours.

“Hmm,” you whine, low, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “That’s—that’s my line.”

Eyes closed, you feel his lips on your and open up without any prying. You don’t mind tasting yourself on his tongue. You can just barely muster the energy and coherence to lift an arm up to put around his neck to pull him closer.

You can feel the bed dip at your hip where he takes a knee. The hand by your face moves to your waist and under. Too quick to register in your blissed-out state, Jane lifts you off the bed just enough to move you up a bit. Enough so that your hips are on there proper, and your legs are only dangling off the edge at the knee.

When you sigh, Jane chuckles and pulls away to take a look at you.

“All good there?”

“Better than I’ve been in a while,” you whisper, slowly blinking your eyes open. “Sorry for uh,” you stutter, letting your hand fall from around his shoulder to his chest. “For the mess.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before leaning up and back. Your hands slide down his bare chest as he does, and your heart once again leaps into your throat when you realize how hard he is. Your fingers catch and linger at the waist of the slacks he’d worn to bed last night.

“Making a mess,” Jane starts, hands slipping under yours to pop the button of his slacks. You realize that his right hand is still damp with you. “Kind of the whole point.” 

You don’t realize you’re biting down on your lip until Jane grazes your jaw with his fingertips, and pulls your lip from between your teeth with his thumb. Zipper all the way down, you look up for—permission? You only pinch the fabric of his slacks to pull them down when you get a quiet ‘go on’.  Once they’re mid thigh, though, you squirm a bit to be able to scooch back enough to sit up in a way that doesn’t kill your back or neck.

A gentle hand comes to rest at the back of your head while you’re focused on the cock in front of you, bulging a pair of soft-looking black briefs. Your mouth closes with a click when you realize you’ve left it hanging open.

“You never answered me earlier,” Jane says quietly. The hand at the back of your head swirls a bit before you feel fingers closing and tugging on your hair. “What is it that you want?”

You feel breathless. When you look up, you can’t tell what colour Patrick’s eyes are with how blown his pupils are. Swallow thickly and loudly. There’s a moment when you glance back down at the straining fabric over his cock that you consider asking, very nicely, if you can blow him. When you look back up, he’s leaned down and used the hand at the back of your head to tilt it up.

The first time you open your mouth, you can’t quiet get the words out. You close it and clear your throat, again, and try to ignore how your face is heating up again.

“I wan—I want you to,” you start, taking a deep breath.

“You’re doing great,” Patrick croons, the hand at your head flattening out, fingers digging in like a semblance of a massage. You close your eyes to appreciate the sensation, but only for a second.

“Fuck me,” you say, eventually, blinking up at him before adding,“Please, sir.”

The hand in your hair tightens and pulls again, pulling you down to lie back on the bed while Jane leans down to join you. 

“You asked so nicely,” he whispers into your throat, and you shudder when you feel his tongue run up your jugular. “So eager to please when you’re given half a chance.” 

“Always,” you breathe back, putting your hands to good use and shoving both slacks and underwear over Jane’s hips to free his cock. Can’t help but cant your hips up when you feel the warm tip of it against your thigh. “Fuck, anything you want.” 

Taglist

@fucklife-or-me @mamacakeishereforfun @newavenger @yearningforsappho @natsukee @piper570 @rikuisthesweetestboy @berry-blink

i tagged everyone i could find in my replies but if you want to be tagged please send an ask!

[glamdringwlv]

-Get it on-

Maybe the worst Logan is not that bad.

Wolverine/Logan Howlett x female!OC a/n: Hi! This is my first work on this app and in English, which isn’t my first language. This idea has been in my mind since I saw the movie because this Logan has me on my knees for him. I hope you'll give it a chance. I'm using a oc female caracter bc I feel it that way. She has powers, so she is a mutant. And I took several liberties to make the shot and it probably has some mistakes but I wanted to write something cute for Logan. Thanks Warnings: Suggestive lenguage, Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, a bit of angst, foul language, mentions of alcohol, cursing, my bad english.

Summary: Grace Green has been waiting for her Logan to show up for so long that she’s losing her mind. But when it seems he’s finally appeared, it turns out to be the worst one.

+++

Wade tries to stifle a surprised squeal, but fails and quickly turns toward his companion.

"Well, pluck out my eyes and call me Al. It’s her, Logan. It’s her."

Logan doesn’t seem fazed, but when Grace sees him, she can’t help but run toward him, ignoring the stares from the others. From the mercenary's perspective, everything happens in slow motion, like in those cheesy romantic movies he secretly loved.

Her arms wrap around his neck, and Logan instinctively grabs her waist, not letting go of the bottle in his hand. Their lips crash together in a rough kiss, and the X-Men sighs happily, unable to suppress a silly smile as the kiss continues.

The others watch the scene with satisfaction, glad that the girl's endless misery-filled speeches have finally come to an end.

"Alright, folks, I think we’ve had enough cocaine jokes. No need to push Disney’s patience any further." Wade nudges Logan’s shoulder, to which he responds with a deep growl, tightening his hold on Grace. "Did you just growl at me? You're such an animal."

It’s Grace who pulls back, placing her hands on the mutant's chest, hardly believing he’s there with her.

"Why do you taste like rubbing alcohol?"

"Because our big guy here downed a bottle of ethanol and some hawk-eye whiskey. Tell ‘em, big man."

"My name’s Gambit."

"Sure, whatever."

Grace seems dazed but can’t hide how happy she is.

"God, Lo. I’ve missed you so much. This whole place is filled with Deadpools, but no Wolverines. I was losing hope of ever seeing my Logan again."

"My Logan?" Grace didn’t like the sound of that. She takes a few steps back, needing the distance to get some perspective.

"Oh ho ho, you have no idea who she is, do you, you bastard?" Wade’s voice confirms Grace's suspicions, but it’s Logan’s expression that assures him.

"God, I just kissed some random Wolverine…" Grace puts a hand to her forehead, her features twisted in anguish.

"He’s not just any Wolverine, he’s the worst one. But I guess we have to make do—"

"Shut up, Wade!" Grace sends a blast of power that flings him across the room.

"You know me?! Damn, the freaking best X-Man on the planet knows my name!"

"You," Grace steps up to Logan, jabbing her finger into his chest with more force than the mutant expected, "if you didn’t know me, why’d you follow along with the kiss?"

He lowers his head threateningly, getting on her level as if contemplating kissing her again.

"I’d be crazy to refuse a kiss from a woman like you, wouldn’t I? Besides, shouldn’t you have made sure who I was before throwing yourself into my arms?"

She huffs and shakes her head, not putting any distance between them.

"You really are the worst. I kissed you because you’re wearing the same suit as my Logan. I assumed you were him. But don’t you dare twist this around like it’s my fault."

"Guys, we’re in a time where people don’t belong to other people. Come on, be a little more open-minded."

"Shut the hell up!" they both shout simultaneously.

"See? You’re perfect for each other."

"Wade, I swear I’ll rip out your tongue and shove it up your ass, and I’ll savor every second it takes you to regenerate it, ‘cause they’ll be the best moments of my life."

She starts walking towards him, drawing two batons from the sheaths at her hips, stopping dangerously close. Wade stares at her, petrified, finally left speechless.

"Are those Daredevil's freaking batons?"

"God!" She extends a hand and hurls him into Logan, sending them both crashing into the far wall.

"What the hell?" Logan kicks Wade off him and stands up, discovering the bottle he’d been holding had shattered from the impact. The room fills with the sound of claws unsheathing.

The others enjoy the show, not wanting to get in Grace's way. They’d already learned the hard way that it wasn’t ideal.

"Logan, I don’t know how my variant is in your universe, but I’m much stronger than you. Don’t even try."

Wolverine bares his teeth like a wild beast. Maybe he was wrong. He leans forward, claws ready, prepared to charge at her. She can see how he’s healing from the wounds caused by crashing into various things in the room, which only enrages him more.

"Poor big kitty, did you get hurt, little claws?"

"Call me that again, and I swear I’ll—"

Before he can do anything, Deadpool steps between them.

"Guys, as much as I think this would totally turn me on, I can’t let you kill each other. Logan, this here is Grace Green, pretty much the only one who can put up with you and your soulmate in every timeline, I’d say." He turns to the girl. "I’m a huge fan of yours. But she’s also one of the strongest X-Men around. She could tear you apart if she wanted. We could really use her help."

"My soulmate?"

"That’s all you took from that?"

"Don’t listen to him, it’s just a figure of speech. But it’s true that I’m the only one who puts up with you, you’ve got a horrible temper, kitty claws."

"Stop calling me that, damn it. I’m not the asshole from your universe."

"Of course, you’re not, soft claws. My Logan would have torn you apart."

"Let him try."

"Actually, I thought Wolverines couldn’t age. I can’t believe I mistook you for him. What happened, Kitty? Not using enough coconut oil?"

"That’s it, I’m ripping out your throat in one move."

"Hey, Logan, no, stop. We need these people’s help, and you’re acting like a jerk."

"I don’t need anyone’s help."

"It’s impossible to leave this place, I’ve already tried. Cassandra can nullify my powers with a snap of her fingers."

"But you haven’t tried with us. Look, we’ve already been to her lair and—"

Elektra interrupts him.

"Wait, if these two clowns managed to get in and out alive, there might be a chance."

"YES! YES! Yes to everything."

"To what?"

"To you and me and you and everyone. To us, to being a team."

"You’re going to die."

"That’s not the attitude, Logan."

…

Grace had overheard the entire conversation between Laura and Logan. She knew eavesdropping was wrong, but she couldn’t help staying hidden when the X-Man's words broke her heart. She didn’t understand what had brought her there; her feet had just started moving towards him. When the girl disappeared, she approached him.

"I don’t want company, thanks." Logan's voice was still tinged with sadness and the effort it took not to cry. She felt something stir in her chest. She wanted to lift her hand and touch his hair, to use her powers to quiet whatever tormented him, even if just for a moment.

"Easy, Kitty, I come in peace. I bring an offering." She raised a bottle from Remy’s secret stash. It was her Logan’s favorite booze, so she hoped it was his too.

Logan raised an eyebrow, almost surprised to see one of his most common choices in the hand of the woman who had just sat beside him. He sighed and resigned himself to the nickname she had chosen for him. He accepted the gift and growled in gratitude. It was a start.

Silence enveloped them, but Grace was just grateful to be with Logan again. Even though her mind screamed that he wasn’t hers, her feelings overwhelmed her.

"You keep looking at me like that, princess."

She almost fainted at the nickname. She quickly looked at him, unable to take her eyes off his profile. That’s how Wolverine used to call her to irritate her sometimes. She let out a sigh.

"Like what?"

"Like you’re trying to see someone else. I’m not him. I’ll never be him."

Grace felt each word like a punch to the gut. She had fought against a lot of people and received some pretty nasty wounds, but this stung much more than any of them.

"I know." The words came out as a whisper, but she knew he could hear them. Tears began to fall down her cheek. "I didn’t get to say goodbye. It’s not like he’s dead or we broke up. I have no way to ease the loss I feel." Unconsciously, she started to fidget with the dog tags Logan had given her long ago, feeling more exhausted than ever. "And then you show up, wearing his suit and all his personality, his voice… For a moment, I felt like I was home again."

Logan’s hand shot out without thinking to grab her arm. Grace looked at him, her vision blurred with tears, her breath catching.

"Listen, I can’t replace him. Like I said, I’m not him."

"I’m not trying to replace him. I know you’re not him, but you remind me so much of everything I’ve lost. I guess I was just looking for something to hold onto, even if it’s just the ghost of what I had."

Logan’s defenses crumbled when he saw in her eyes a reflection of his own feelings. He slowly withdrew the hand that had tried to somehow anchor them both to reality.

"I don’t know you, Grace, but you’re stronger than you think. You don’t need to cling to any shadow to move forward. You’ve managed just fine in this hellhole."

The X-Men reflects on the words of this Wolverine, feeling relief for the first time in a long while. She had carried such a heavy burden all this time, one that had joined the endless void inside her, growing larger and larger. Hearing those words eased that feeling of anguish a bit. Wade had said this was the worst Wolverine, but she didn’t completely agree. She understood that this one carried an additional burden that dragged him down even more.

"I wish I could have said goodbye to my people, not just to Logan. The TVA wiped them all out when they pulled me from my timeline. I can’t help but think it’s my fault they’re gone. All I have left is this ridiculous lemon-yellow suit." In better spirits, she caught Logan’s attention by touching his arm. "I preferred the black one, didn’t you, Kitty?"

Logan growls in her direction, and she laughs with delight.

"The truth is, it suits you like a glove. You’ve always worn it with more dignity. Cyclops was jealous."

The comment seems to boost his ego, and he smirks.

"Cyclops, jealous? That idiot only has eyes for himself."

"Not when you steal the girl."

Logan looks at her seriously, processing what she just said.

"Were you Cyclops’ girlfriend?"

"Yeah, we entered the school together when we were kids, so we only had each other. When I was part of the teaching staff, I met Logan, and that bastard made me fall for him completely."

"How did he do it?"

"What?"

"Make you fall for him."

The mutant grinned widely and shook her head, amused.

"The truth is, he was a grump and a grouch. We didn’t get along very well. We just argued and fought a lot. But we eventually got along when we realized we were more alike than we thought. Logan had a hard time trusting others, and I had a hard time delegating to the team. Plus, he’d never admit it, but he fell for me first. Followed me around like I’d just discovered fire."

Logan nodded slowly, not doubting her last words. He was starting to understand why her Wolverine had fallen first.

"You could always try convincing that loudmouth Wade to take you with him to his timeline if you survive this suicide mission."

"Don’t you want to go back?"

"There’s nothing to go back to."

Shee remembered his conversation with Laura and wanted to return the favor by quieting his demons.

Shee stood up, took the bottle from his hands, and took a swig that made her close his eyes. God, it had been so long since she’d done this that she feared he might lose control completely. She looked down at him and saw fury cloud his gaze once more. Despite knowing it might cost her life, she did it anyway.

Grabbing his hands, she straddled his lap, her face inches from his. Despite the alcohol, he smelled like him—like Logan, like home. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she heard him curse.

"Look, I’m flattered, and I’m going to regret saying this, but I don’t think this is what you want."

Grace understood where Logan’s train of thought was going when she felt something beneath her. She bit her lip to stifle the laughter that was about to escape her throat and looked seriously into his eyes.

"I think it’s something we both want, Logan. Since when are you such a gentleman?"

He seemed to be fighting an internal battle, but his hands quickly moved to grip her hips, pulling her closer to him, losing his composure.

"I’m trying not to be the worst Wolverine, but you’re not making it easy, sweetheart."

"Well, I thought you’d be happy to see me, Bub," she said, giving him a look that suggested exactly what the mutant was thinking, and she rolled her hips, making Wolverine growl. His grip on her hips tightened to stop her.

"You’re going to kill me, you know that," he said, she was marveled at the smug smile that transformed his features completely. She felt the need to kiss him, but she didn’t.

Logan was confused by the inevitable attraction he felt for her, as if she were made of some kind of magnet that irresistibly drew his adamantium skeleton. He had a fleeting thought that she was somehow made for him, even though moments ago they were about to kill each other. He remembered Wade’s words, and a sigh escaped his lips: She’s your soulmate.

Grace laughed, unaware of the battle the mutant was fighting. She raised her hands to cup both sides of his face and closed her eyes, comforted by his warmth. Maybe, if they made it out alive, she’d seriously consider the suggestion she was straddling.

"Well, Logan, be patient; it’s been a long time since I’ve done this."

She shifted in her seat, earning another muffled groan from him.

"I’m a bit out of practice too, but I’m sure we’ll figure out how to make it wor—" He suddenly stopped when he felt Grace’s presence in his mind, much more abrupt than he remembered Charles ever being. "What the hell?"

Grace navigated through Logan’s memories and found the place where he hid from all the pain. Still, she could hear everything that tormented and haunted him.

"Let me return the favor. Let me make you free for a moment, Logan."

Suddenly, everything went quiet in his head—the screams, the memories, everything that made him want to give up. He let out a satisfied sigh, feeling at peace. Besides pushing away the thoughts, Grace had poured a thousand emotions into him, serving as a balm for his torments. He could feel all the love the girl held inside, the joy, and the hope.

He let his head drop until their foreheads rested together. Grace used the moment to comfort herself one last time with the presence of the person she had loved the most. On the other hand, Logan reveled in the feeling of not having the weight on his shoulders, grateful for the favor.

"Thank you for giving me this moment, Logan. It’s the best thing I’ve had in a long time."

Logan couldn’t speak. He was so overwhelmed with happiness that he felt overpowered, in a good way. He just nodded slowly.

"When Logan had nightmares, I used to keep them away so he could sleep. Why don’t you do the same, big guy? You look tired."

He nodded again as she got up from his lap and helped him lie down. As she was about to leave, Logan’s hand closed around her wrist like a shackle, stopping her. He needed her, her company, and he felt that she needed him too.

"You could stay. If you want."

Without responding, she nodded too, lying down beside him and stroking his hair until his breathing became deep. She watched as, with his relaxed face, he looked even more like her Logan.

"Goodbye, Logan," she whispered before falling completely asleep, comforted by the warmth that made her feel at home for the last time.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Not moth brain rot but a random thought that came to me while reading one of ur fics-

If, for whatever reason, a chunk of the human race develops the ability to read minds, I will be throwing myself off the edge of the earth, my friends are here getting engaged, married and having fucking kids while I'm over at the corner daydreaming about how it would feel to be hugged by Foul legacy or thinking 50 different reactions I'll get from him if I give him a bunch of kisses all over his face, like forget the fact that not only does he not exist, he ain't even human- this why tumblr is one of the hidden apps on my phone lmao 💀💀

ohhh this gave me an SAGAU idea hear me out-

you and your friends all play Genshin, having your own likes and dislikes, but you happen to absolutely ADORE Childe's Foul Legacy form which all your friends tease you about- lovingly, they swear! but still, you tend to keep your love of Foul Legacy to yourself, instead opting to listen to your friends talk about THEIR favorite characters. you keep quiet so you don't have to endure anymore teasing, and even when you're playing alone you don't allow yourself to admire Foul Legacy very much because you've been taught it's something silly

what you don't know is that Foul Legacy can hear you, and has been watching ever since you first set foot into his domain, when you had first gasped in awe over his design and voice. he's not used to being admired- Abyssal creatures are supposed to be frightening- but he soon comes to like your fawning, often listening to your happy comments instead of paying attention to his weekly boss battle. sometimes he can hear you during Phases 1 and 2, sitting cross-legged on the ground and waiting, letting out happy purrs and coos whenever you cheer in victory

but sometimes there's days you don't make any comments, days where you're just silent and going through the motions, and Foul Legacy wants nothing more than to reach out and comfort you. but he can't, he can only watch your characters stand on the far edges of the arena, your soft sigh echoing overhead as you wonder why it's so bad to like Foul Legacy, or at least why it makes you so ripe for teasing

you sit quietly, and Foul Legacy despairs that he can't do more for a presence no one else in Teyvat seems to know exists

[authorautumnbanks]

Stranded With A Demon Lord and the Strongest Sorcerer (1)

"I think he's dead," a woman says. Satoru's brows furrow together. His body hurts like a motherfucker. And who is that talking? Doesn't sound like Shoko.

"Then leave him. We do not have time for this."

"We could at least bury the guy."

Satoru groans. He's not dead, but he sure as hell feels like someone took a sword to his head again. He opens his eyes and blinks. Maybe he is dead? He's never seen an angel in his life until now.

"Oh! You're alive," the woman exclaims. "How do you feel?"

He sits up and then freezes. The hell is that energy? Satoru glances over to the side and grits his teeth. He doesn't know what the fuck that is, but the white-haired male with markings on his face is not human. Cursed energy may feel monstrous at times, but it's nothing like what's coming from that thing.

On the other hand, the pretty woman next to him feels pure. Light. Nothing like that other white-haired male. This can't be the afterlife. He pinches his arm. Yep, he's still alive.

"Priestess, leave the human and let us go."

She rolls her brown eyes and scoffs. "I'm human and no, we aren't leaving him. He's in the same predicament we're in... I think."

"And where is here?" Satoru questions. Damn, his throat is dry too. He hates this. Satoru looks around. The vegetation is all wrong. The grass is purple, and the sky is yellow. Where the fuck is he?

"We don't know," she admits. "But we all woke up here. Well, Sesshomaru woke up first." She presses her lips together. "Sorry, I'm Kagome, by the way."

"... Satoru." He stands, ignoring how Kagome frets over him. Her hand touches him, and he rears back. What the hell? How did she touch him?

"Sorry!" She holds her hands up. "You shouldn't stand so suddenly. You were out longer than us."

Satoru's nostrils flare. "It's fine," he bites out. "You said you were human, like me. What is he?" Keep it together.

Sesshomaru quirks a brow. "Demon and you will address this Sesshomaru, as Sesshomaru-sama."

The fuck he will.

Satoru steps towards Sesshomaru, but Kagome gets between them and holds her hands out. He clucks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. These two know each other. It's obvious in the way the demon halts when Kagome puts her hands up. But how close are they? Close enough for the demon to listen to her. Is he bound to Kagome like a shikigami?

"No fighting, you two." Kagome glares at Satoru and then at Sesshomaru. "We don't know where we are or even how to get back home. Let's not fight each other."

Satoru stares at her hand on his chest for a beat and then looks up at the yellow sky. He isn't on Earth, that much he can tell, and based on Kagome's words, they know as much about this place as he does.

Did that box send him here?

He gnaws on his tongue. Something foul is at play. That weird brain that took over Suguru's body said he'd release him eventually, but something still doesn't seem right. There were skeletons and then a pink light before everything went black. Satoru glances down. Her hand is still on his chest, but she doesn't seem to notice. He tilts his head slightly to the side. Whatever energy she has, it's massive.

And warm.

Sesshomaru glares at him. It's slight, barely noticeable, but Satoru has great eyes. The demon's golden eyes harden. "Priestess, stand down."

"No."

The two stare at one another. Satoru clenches his fists. Why does it feel as though he is interrupting something? He needs to focus on getting back to his world.

"This Sesshomaru will toss you over my shoulder."

"No fighting," she repeats. "And no flashing Satoru. He doesn't want to see that."

Satoru blinks. His eyes drift down, lingering on her legs. That skirt is short.

"We should find a settlement and go from there," Kagome continues, pulling Satoru from his musings. How much did he miss? This isn't like him either, getting distracted by a pair of legs.

"You mean a city?" Satoru asks.

Kagome shrugs. "I'm preparing for the worst." She motions to the trees that curve and wrap around one another like vines. "This could be a forest and a city could be a ways off, or it could be a town..." She looks him up and down. "Like old timey."

Old timey?

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. No service. Kagome presses her face closer to his phone. He stares at her. "What?"

"It's not a flip phone?"

This time Satoru squints. "It's a smartphone?"

Sesshomaru stands off to the side, watching both of them with a bored expression. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Kagome straightens herself out. "Well, Satoru and I are both human, but we have opposing energies." Kagome holds out a finger. "You're a demon, so your energy is different, too." She ticks off another finger. "Sesshomaru is from the feudal period, but he won't tell me how many centuries he is."

Satoru keeps his face blank. Centuries-old? Feudal period?

"I'm 24, but I was born in the 80s," she continues. "And then there's you." Kagome motions to Satoru.

"... I was born in the 80s too and flip phones aren't a thing anymore." Satoru crosses his arms. "I'm 29," he adds.

Sesshomaru looks away and stares off into the distance. "It will rain." He walks away. Kagome rolls her eyes and motions for Satoru to come with them.

"Were you doing anything weird before you came here?" Kagome asks, walking next to him.

"Weird? No. I was fighting curses." He keeps the box to himself. They don't need to know he was sealed. Hell, they could be the reason he is here.

"Someone tried to curse you?"

"No... curses. Physical manifestations of negative emotions."

"Oh." Kagome taps a finger to her lips. "We have evil spirits, but not physical curses. Well, we were fighting too. Another demon."

"A half-breed," Sesshomaru states.

Kagome frowns at Sesshomaru's back. "A half-demon," she corrects. "A Naraku wanna-be, but that doesn't matter."

He waits for her to elaborate, but Kagome never does. She drops the subject as quickly as she brought it up.

"Are we walking around aimlessly?" Satoru asks. He isn't picking up on any cursed energy. The sky darkens and frankly, it looks like piss. What a dreary world to be transported to.

"This Sesshomaru is seeking shelter for the priestess. Humans are weak and are prone to sickness."

"That's code for, he doesn't want us to get sick." Kagome gives him a small smile and readjusts the yellow straps. Satoru frowns.

"Here, I can carry that." He holds out a hand. Kagome stares at him as if he has two heads. Is there something magical in that yellow bag of hers that she doesn't want him to get a hold of? "It looks heavy."

Kagome looks at his hand and then back at his face. "If you really want to." She slides the bag off, moving her bow and quiver to the side. "If we don't come across some settlement, I may need to make my own arrows."

Sesshomaru glances over his shoulder. "My claws are sufficient."

"Pause," Satoru says, sliding the bag on, which is heavier than he initially thought. "You said Sesshomaru is from the feudal era?"

"Sesshomaru-sama."

"But you're from my time period," Satoru continues. Yeah, no. He is not calling that demon, sama.

Kagome blows out a breath. "Time travel." She shrugs. "I don't usually drop that kind of bomb, but since we'll all in this strange place together... I wonder why us though. We may have both been born around the same time, but my world does not have curses."

Satoru hums in acknowledgment. His world doesn't have actual priestesses either, at least not ones that have energy like hers. Nor are there any demons in his world.

Same time period, different worlds.

Same world, different time periods.

All three of them have different energies, though Sesshomaru's demonic energy is similar to his cursed energy. Kagome's energy, though, is warmer and far more pure than cursed energy and certainly lighter than demonic. Though that's not the only difference. She's female and maybe he's reading too into it, but her name starts with a K, whereas his and Sesshomaru's names start with a S.

Maybe Kagome is telling the truth. He assesses her side profile. She isn't distraught or anxious about being in a different world... but she supposedly time travels too, so that may play a part in her nonchalance about this. There are too many variables and not enough answers. He keeps his eyes uncovered for now. A small furry creature with purple fur skitters by. It's as long as a weasel. It stops and stands on its hind legs. Opening its mouth, it flashes its long canines in what he assumes to be a warning. How the hell is its mouth as big as its head?

Satoru takes a step closer to Kagome.

A green light hits it and the creature is split in half.

"Vermin," Sesshomaru says and keeps walking.

Kagome sighs. "I kinda wanted to observe it."

"Pretty sure it wanted you for dinner," Satoru quips.

"You think so? I think it didn't like Sesshomaru. He's giving off major angry vibes."

"This Sesshomaru is not."

"See!"

Actually, he does not see. There was hardly any emotion behind that, and yet Kagome just knows? How long have they known each other? And what is that white fur over Sesshomaru's shoulder? A tail? Decoration?

"We will rest here until the rain subsides," Sesshomaru says, motioning to the cave. "There are no vermin."

"Oh good," Kagome quips, walking into the cave. "Satoru, I have a pot in my bag. We could boil the rainwater to be on the safe side."

Sesshomaru glances back and then walks off, leaving Satoru and Kagome alone in the cave. Satoru sets the bag down next to Kagome and watches as she pulls out a giant pot.

How?

"Where did he go?"

"To get firewood and maybe hunt more of those creatures in case we need food." Kagome sets the pot outside of the cave and sits down, staring out.

What the hell is he doing? The rain can't touch him, so why is he standing around in this cave? Satoru eyes Kagome's back. But she could touch him. Is it just her or is something in this world messing with his infinity?

"So, your world is riddled with curses? Is that why your energy is cursed? At least it feels that way."

Satoru sits next to her. His knee brushes against her leg. That's going to take some time to get used to. "The only way to exorcise a curse is with cursed energy. I'm not cursed. If anything, I'm blessed." He shrugs one shoulder. Though he doesn't feel blessed. "Curses are only invisible to normal humans, though some are sensitive enough to see them. Everyone has cursed energy, with some exceptions, but only a select group can utilize cursed energy." He looks at her. "And your world is filled with demons?"

"Not exactly. My time is safe. No curses. No demons." Kagome blows out a breath. "But demons existed at some point. I don't know what happened to them. Why did they exist in the past but not in my time? But demons aren't that bad, at least not the intelligent ones."

Satoru nods, though he's having a hard time visualizing this world she speaks of. "You said that you were fighting a half-demon?"

"Mhmm."

"So... half what?"

"Human." Kagome smiles and waves a hand at Sesshomaru. Satoru stands. What kind of creature is that? It's as big as a deer, but it's riddled with green scales like a fish.

"So, you two are together, then?"

Kagome drops her hand. "What? Me and Sesshomaru? No way. He hates humans and barely tolerates me."

"Priestess, tend to the fire," Sesshomaru says, dropping the beast and the firewood down. They land with a thud and the sound of rain falling follows. Satoru keeps his face blank, but he doesn't believe a word Kagome just said. He doesn't know this demon very well, but it's obvious Sesshomaru does more than tolerate Kagome.

The pot sizzles and Kagome makes an impressive cat yowl. "No! My pot!" She tries to run out, but Satoru blocks her path.

"I'll get it," he says, though internally he is kicking his own ass. This rain is some kind of acid and he's volunteering to get her pot? Satoru grits his teeth as he walks out of the cave and retrieves the pot. There is some water in it at least. And it's not sizzling now that the rain isn't hitting it.

"... Why aren't you wet?"

Satoru blinks. So, his infinity is working.

Wait.

He went out to retrieve a stupid pot, and he wasn't 100 percent sure that infinity was working? "Family secret," he quips, setting the pot down. Kagome may not have cursed energy, but he isn't convinced she didn't cast some kind of spell. "It's not affecting the forest. Maybe it doesn't react well to this material? Though the pot isn't melting now, even with the water in it."

Kagome huffs. "That's just great. I do have some water, so we aren't in dire need, but I was trying to be resourceful."

Satoru turns to the side right as a scale hits infinity. He scowls at Sesshomaru, who goes back to plucking the scales off. Thunder booms overhead. He bites back a sigh.

It's going to be a long day.

***

A/N: You don't see this and I don't know what the plot is. I only got vibes.

[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (11/15) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: John has learned something new that he'd like to show you… Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,630 (this chapter, 27,487 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N:  Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. It's, yet again, been awhile since the last update, sad to say. I've been slogging through writer's block, health issues and some kinda awful real life stress but I'm not giving up on this fic (or its sibling, "Recreation"). I'd like to say that the final chapters will be here very soon but, well… I've learned to not call my shots, lol. I will, however, do my best to get them here as soon as I can. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

PT arrived bright and early and, while you continued to bring out every expletive in every language you knew, ultimately it seemed your left side was improving: more range of motion in your shoulder and more strength in your leg, though the healing fractures still ached. All together, though, it was a win, no matter that it left you sweating and shaking like you'd wrestled an Elite and lost spectacularly.

You'd just come out of the shower and put on a fresh set of clothes when the door chimed. To your surprise, you found Riz and Vannak in their civvies standing there. You knew Silver Team had been on stand-by for the past few days – John hadn't been able to join you for every meal, understandably, but he had been there every night. Sleeping curled up in his arms was a luxury you weren't sure how you were going to give up when the time came. Kai and her friend had visited but this was the first time the other two Spartans had.

"Please, come in," you said and they did.

"You need new curse words," Riz said seriously.

"We got here while you were doing your therapy," Vannak explained. "Didn't want to interrupt."

"You could hear me cussing out in the hall?" you asked.

"Superior Spartan hearing," she said, matter-of-fact. "I doubt anyone else could."

"Teach her the one," he urged in as animated a tone as you'd ever heard from him before. "You know, the good one."

Which is how you ended up getting a tongue-twisting word in Sangheili added to your arsenal.

"You say that to any Covenant species and it's guaranteed to send them into a rage," Riz said with a confident nod.

"Except the Unggoy," Vannak added with a sneer. "Little bastards couldn't give a shit. They'll try to kill you on principle."

"I'll make sure I'm on a bullhorn from far away, then," you said, biting the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. "Don't want to be in striking distance if I'm going to send them into a rage."

They thought that over.

"Chief won't appreciate us telling her to pick a fight with a Sangheili," she pointed out.

"Just use it on somebody you're pretty sure you can take in a fight," he told you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said.

They made slightly stilted small talk for about 15 more minutes, then took their leave.

A rest seemed in order, so you propped up on the bed and checked the news. They were in the middle of reporting that they had yet to apprehend the man who had tried to smuggle the bomb back to FLEETCOM in the Warthog. It showed some stock images of the Pit before being damaged by the explosion and that got you to thinking…

There should be some sort of footage of the explosion, right?

But, after poking around on your padd for a little while, you hadn't found much beyond what apparently had been approved for public viewing.

"Would you like some help with that?"

Cortana's voice startled you.

"Oh, hey there," you said, thinking, Poor thing, she's got the most boring job in the world keeping an eye on me. I hope I get the chance to buy her a coffee or something after all is said and done. Then your brain tardily caught up with her words. "You mean you have footage from the explosion?"

"Yes, I do."

"And it's something I have clearance to see?"

"I have footage from the explosion," she repeated, her tone supremely innocent.

Before you could decide whether to ask to see it or not, the holo on the wall lit up. The security cams had caught the explosion from multiple angles. You winced as you saw a body – your body – fly out of the crane operator seat to disappear into a sea of smoke and debris.

A moment later, the view changed, the quality severely degrading. You squinted through the pixilation and haze and realized you were seeing from the point of view of the holo-emiter Cortana had contacted you from.

"Oh, shit," you muttered. The massive beam that had pinned you down should've killed you outright but you'd gotten supremely lucky in the way the rest of the building had fallen, providing just enough support to give you a tiny open space. But even without the sudden, helpful overlay that detailed out the edges of the debris through the smoke, you could see how quickly that respite was vanishing as the beam's weight bore it inexorably lower and lower.

You found yourself gasping for breath, cast back into that moment. The image changed abruptly. Trying to figure out where you were now viewing from helped to break you free of the encroaching panic attack.

Then it all made sense: you were looking at several officers, so covered in dirt and dust that you couldn't recognize their rank, much less determine their names. They also looked extremely short.

Before you even skimmed over the information feeding out in rapid-fire bursts, you knew that this was John's HUD after Silver Team had arrived back on site.

"John, get here now. The support beam is failing!"

Cortana's voice came through his helmet's comm. "There's no time," he said, interrupting the man as he was saying that they would have to wait for an excavation crew to arrive to safely dig you out.

He was running before the man could object. The feed cut back and forth from his HUD to the holo-emiter. This gave you an unexpected perspective on how efficiently Silver Team worked. They needed almost no words as they homed in on your location, grabbing, lifting, moving and supporting each part of the perilous structure as needed.

It was Vannak who caught the beam before it crushed you but it was John who lifted it off of you.

The holo-emiter's feed abruptly ended and you were back in John's HUD. Vannak and Kai caught another part of the crumbling wreckage, creating an opening for Riz to dig you out by hand.

You noted almost absently how steady John's vitals were. He was holding a building off of you as if it were nothing at all.

"Out," Riz announced and John carefully lowered the weight he'd been supporting.

When he turned, you saw Riz clearing the way for Kai, who was now the one carrying you. Vannak and John followed.

They emerged out of the wreckage and Kai went into the Spartan run, taking you directly into a Pelican where she turned you over to a team of medics. The Spartans were waved back and the ship launched.

"We'll catch the next one," Riz said.

"She'll be all right, Chief," Kai told him. "She's strong."

He nodded curtly, tracking the Pelican that was carrying you away.

And once it went out of sight, that was when his vitals spiked and his heart began to pound.

You were still thinking about what all you'd seen when the door chimed again. A glance at the chrono proved it was lunchtime. You opened the door and, indeed, the first thing you saw was a massive, covered tray that no doubt contained your meal. But it was John who was carrying it.

"Silver's on stand-by," he warned, "but I thought we might get a chance to eat together."

Since you weren't yet cleared to make the long walk down to the Mess, a table and pair of chairs had been set up across from the couch a few days ago. As soon as he'd placed the tray down, you practically tackled him.

"Permission to hug the Master Chief?" you asked well after the fact, your voice muffled into his chest.

He gently returned the embrace. "Always granted."

You found yourself holding onto him a little bit longer than usual.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I saw the footage from the Pit," you said, resting your cheek against him. "I already knew I was lucky to get out of there but really seeing it? I… It makes me appreciate being here."

He paused for long enough that you looked up at him, finding him gazing over your head as if hearing something over a comm. Then he turned his attention back down to you, brow furrowing. "She shouldn't have shown you that footage and upset you."

"Cortana? No, I'm glad she did. It happened to me, after all." You put your face against him again and squeezed him once more around his waist. "You held a building off of me, John."

He made a move as if about to pick you up, then thought better of it and knelt instead to bring you more on a level together. "I'd hold a million buildings off of you, don't you know that?" he said, cupping your face. "Just… try not to be under any more falling buildings, hm?"

"I'll certainly do my best," you swore and kissed his palm.

The look in his eyes altered, grew both darker and softer at the same time. When you leaned towards him, he met you halfway.

He started carefully, like he did everything with you, but soon the kiss intensified, deepened, and his hands skimmed from the crown of your head down your back as if he wanted to map every line, curve and angle you possessed.

And then your stomach growled, loudly and unmistakably, and you muttered your newly-learned curse word.

He leaned back to look at you, amusement tugging insistently at his mouth. "That one's Vannak's favorite. He and Riz talked about coming to see you today. I'm assuming they did?"

"They did," you said, then winced as your stomach grumbled something awfully close to a repeat of the Sangheili curse word.

"Why don't we eat," he said, completely surrendering to the smile, "and you can tell me all about it."

Happily, he didn't get called away and you were able to finish your meal together in peace.

"Could I show you something I recently learned?" he asked as you stood from the table.

"As long as it doesn't involve throwing me around the room," you teased.

"Oh, I'll save that until you're all healed up," he murmured, then winked.

You'd like to think you laughed but no, that was a full-fledged giggle. "So, what did you learn?"

"Therapeutic massage," he said, flexing his fingers. "It's supposed to promote healing and relaxation. Want to give it a try?"

"Absolutely," you said. "Where do you want me at?"

"On the footstool, if that's okay?"

"Sure."

The wide, plush, rainbow-colored bit of furniture was another recent addition to the room, added because John wanted you to have the option to put your feet up. Kai had told you that, as soon as you were healthy again, she was going to high-five you for the color choice.

While his back was turned as he adjusted the stool the way he wanted it in front of the couch, you took your shirt off and tossed it haphazardly towards the bed.

He sat, a leg on either side of the stool, and looked up at you, clearly about to say something. But then his expression went thunderstruck and the words never emerged.

You had the same UNSC sports bra that he had to have seen other marines wearing in the gym a thousand times. You'd spotted Kai and Riz in them before, so it shouldn't have been that shocking.

"This all right?" you asked.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Yes." Every affirmative had its own completely separate inflection, from stunned to wonderment to Wait, don't put the shirt back on.

You turned away, hiding your grin as you sat down where directed. Considering that you were hardly in top fighting form at the moment, his reaction was a very nice little ego boost.

His hands settled gently against your back, fingers curling over your shoulders. "If I use too much pressure or there's pain, tell me right away. Is there anything I should definitely avoid?"

"Can't raise the arm like I should" –you gave a roll of your left shoulder– "but it's already much better than it was."

"Copy that, no raising the arm. Anything else?"

No matter how battered and bruised you felt, there was no way you were going to miss this. "I'll let you know," you promised.

"Okay," he said and his hands glided up to your neck, then out, following the lines of the trapezius on both sides. The heels of his palms followed your spine down in a feathery touch, then spread out along your lats like he was smoothing wrinkles out of them before skimming down your obliques to your hips.

He returned to your shoulders again and very, very carefully kneaded into the tightness there. You did your best not to flinch when he hit a particularly sore spot but he jerked back as if you'd screamed.

"It's fine," you said quickly, afraid he was about to end up perched on the back of the couch like a very large, traumatized cat. "This is the only way to get rid of it. Just got to work it out."

His hands settled cautiously on your shoulders once more.

"You're doing great," you assured him, patting his knees on either side of you encouragingly, and his thumbs drew circles over the painful places as if he were trying not to fracture a thin sheet of glass.

The knots relaxed and you exhaled in the closest thing to sheer bliss you'd experienced in a long while. The warmth and gentle pressure had you melting back into him, your head lolling a bit, your eyelids fluttering shut and—

The next thing you knew, you were waking up. "Oh come on, I didn't want to sleep through all the good parts," you mumbled.

John's chuckle rumbled beneath your ear. He had pulled you back onto his lap on your right side, cradled comfortably against his chest. One hand was gently rubbing your back while the other covered the hand you had fisted into his shirt.

"I'm going to take this as a compliment to my therapeutic massage skills," he said.

"And you absolutely should." You raised your head to look at him. "Maybe next time I can even stay conscious long enough to really appreciate said skills. If there is, you know, a next time."

"There will most definitely be a next time," he swore and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I still owe you a proper back scratching."

"And I am absolutely going to collect on that," he returned, his tone unexpectedly husky.

You smiled, straightening up to kiss him. He pulled you closer, then paused and sighed against your mouth.

"I've got to go," he said resolutely right before his wristband chirped.

You looked for a way to roll off of him that wouldn't aggravate your shoulder – or potentially crush any of his, ahem, important Spartan equipment – but he scooped you up bridal style and stood as if you weighed nothing at all.

"I'll meet you for dinner if we're back soon enough," he promised and gave you one more tender kiss then placed you onto the couch. Before he went through the door, he paused, looking back like he was memorizing this moment, then he took a breath and was gone.

It was nearly dinner time when the door chime rang and you went to answer it with as much of a hopeful spring in your step as you could manage. However, this time, it wasn't John holding a tray with your evening meal on it.

"Dr. Keyes," you said in surprise, snapping a salute.

She said your rank and last name. "May I come in? We need to talk."

[doasyoudesireandlive]

What have you done to make them look at you like that?

asdfghjkl, look at them! Just wanna *squish* 😍 tried to keep this one short but who am I even kidding anymore....

thank you for this gem, Jen ❤

Their girl

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

warnings: John Walker being a piece of shit, reader is a badass, drunken behaviour, kissing, mild violence (stamping, hitting, reader is NOT the one getting hurt), insults and foul language, implied smut, Steve and Bucky are cuties.

Word count: 770ish

This night was gonna be the best in a long time. Nothing could ruin it. Or so you thought.

"how are you doin?" the words are slurred right into your ear. You scrunch your face up in disgust, the smell of stale beer and some kind of liquor fill your senses. Turning around you see John Walker. He was really not your type, and the fact that he was drunk as a skunk did not make things any better. 

"I'm ok. How about you?" You step away but try to sound polite, even though you rather just turn on your heel and walk away.

John leans in and tries to put his arm around your shoulders. You swiftly turn to avoid him, but he somehow gets a hold of you and pulls you close. You repress a gag as you smell the sour smell of alcohol and sweat masked with a lot of perfume. As you struggle to get out of his grasp he simply chuckles. 

"Oh, you can't go now. I'm gonna have so much fun making you mine." 

Anger flares inside you and you lift your foot and stamp hard down on his toe. He howls in pain and anger, and you swiftly slip out of his grasp. Walking fast through the house, trying to spot some familiar faces in the crowd. 

Finally! 

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are standing in the corner, chatting and drinking beer. You walk up to them. 

"Hi fellas! How's life?" You smile, but the smile doesn't really reach your eyes. Bucky furrows his brow. 

"You ok, Cookie? You seem..stressed?" He reaches out and touches your hand, but this time the motion don't make you wanna pull away. He radiates safety and warmth - and real concern. 

"Yeah, Peach…Buck got a point" Steve's baby blue eyes are filled with care and a smidge of protectiveness. 

Just as you open your mouth to answer you hear a slurring voice yell out. 

"Y/N!! You little bitch! where are you? You were totally asking for it, come here!" 

John stumbles through the crowd of people as hes looking for you. 

"please, help me" you look at Steve and Bucky with pleading eyes. They look at each other and nod. Then Bucky pulls you close, caging you in between him and Steve. 

"Dont worry, Cookie. Just play along, we got you" his hand come up to stroke your cheek. The intimacy makes your heart swell.

"There you are, you little slut" John is coming straight for you now, looking really angry. Bucky holds you a bit tighter as Steve turns around to shield your body with his own. 

"Hey dipshit, what do you think you are doing with my girl? hmm? You looking for a beating?" John is standing there with balled up fists and flaring nostrils. 

Steve leans in and gives you a peck on the cheek. Then he whispers "Just follow our lead, Peach" Then he turns around.

"John. We haven't seen your girl. Who is she?" Steve's fake innocence makes a giggle escape your mouth. 

"What are you talking about, you moron? She's right there!" John lifts his arm and is pointing at you, like you were a piece of candy in a candy shop. 

Confidence is flowing through your veins. "Your girl? Nah nah nah, I'm their girl" You reach up and cup Bucky's face, pulling him into a filthy kiss. Then you did the same thing with Steve. John just stands there with his mouth open, like a fish washed up at shore. You simply smile, giving him a "well duh"-look.

"You fucking tease! But whatever, you are too ugly and fat for me anyways." John growls through his teeth. You could feel Steve and Bucky tensing up but you hold your hands up, making them stand still. 

You take a step forward and glare at John. 

"You are the ugly one."

John doesn't understand what happens next. Your fist makes contact with his nose, the sound of bone breaking and his howl of pain fills the air. He scurries away holding his nose. 

You turn around. Bucky and Steve look at you smiling, with admiration and pride. You grin and walk up to them. 

They take one of your hands each. 

"So… You are our girl?" Bucky and Steve grins. 

You smirk.

"If you'll have me" 

"Oh, you don't have to ask us twice, Cookie" Bucky chuckles.

"You wanna get out of here?" Steve looks at you with a gleam in his eye.

You nod and grab their hands. 

"Make me yours then" 

This night was the best one in a long time. 

tags: @animnerd @late-to-the-party-81

[divine-knight-hand]

“It’s Not Safe Here!”

Chapter 4: Family Values

Series Masterlist || Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Content Warnings: Angst, discussion of character deaths, walking in on masturbation, p in v, riding, pleasure crying, mention of leaving a hickey, explicit consent, and use of a condom.

Notes: Finally! I did it! I finished chapter four! Be prepared for backstories, more plot, and original characters for Y/N's story. I feel the need to remind everyone of the heavy canon divergence in this series.

Originally, this chapter wasn’t going to involve smut, but I think Michael deserves to feel happy after the torture I put him through. Besides, I know what we're all here for, so let's just get straight to it~

I also totally self-indulged a little because characters being caught jacking off is one of my favorite smut setup tropes (or whatever you wanna call it). Okay, I'm done talking your ears off now. Enjoy! Hehehe!

Word Count: 3,775

Dividers by @cafekitsune

William Afton was a sadistic douchebag. That much was obvious, especially now. Wherever he went, he only ever brought suffering with him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that he enjoyed the look of pain and torture on others. He was foul, and his latest act of malice took the cake.

It was 6:30 AM the day after my meeting with him when he and Henry gathered me, Michael, and a handful of other employees I could have sworn I’d never seen before into the party room. We sat at a single table, and I dutifully crossed one leg over the other as we observed the two tall tarped items that seemed to tower over all of us.

I smoothed the front of my white dress shirt, which I had neatly tucked into a sleek pair of navy dress pants, waiting for either of my bosses to say something. When silence proceeded to thicken the air, I uncrossed my legs, anxiously tapping the heel of my ankle boot in a trademark anxious knee bounce.

Michael seemed to notice my shaking leg and reached over to hold my hand, which was conveniently left on the table in front of me. I smiled up at him as he squeezed my hand, my leg slowing, but not stopping. Something’s wrong here. I can feel it…

Henry smiled at William, breaking the silence, “Well, since they’re all itching to hear what we’ve got with us, why don’t you show them all what we’ve got, Afton?”

“I’ll let you do the talking, Em.” I could have sworn I saw William cast a sour glance at me.

“Okay!” Henry clapped his hands together with a smile. “While tinkering away in our shared workshop, my business partner here and I have made a revolutionary breakthrough in robotics.”

Excited murmurs began to fill the room as my stomach dropped. Is this where our funds have been going this whole time? Damnit, William!

The murmurs stopped with a wave of Henry’s hands. “Now, after years of hard work, we would like to present to you-” Henry motioned toward William, who dropped the tarps with a sinister grin. “-the first-ever springlock suits in robotics history!”

As applause sounded behind me, my jaw dropped at the two tall figures that towered over us. A yellow bear with a purple top hat and matching purple bow stood beside a yellow rabbit with an identical bow. They both had glassy yellow eyes that made them seem lifeless. The sight sent a shiver down my spine.

“Say hello to Fredbear and Spring Bonnie!” Henry’s warm smile juxtaposed the horrifying scene right behind him. “They’ll be unveiled as new additions to the Fazbear crew tomorrow morning.”

“Cool! New characters!” I heard an employee enthuse from somewhere behind me.

“Not just any new characters.” William stepped beside Henry. “These are state-of-the-art springlock suits.” He smirked as he knocked on Fredbear’s shoulder, seeming satisfied with the resulting metal clanging. “Programmed to walk around when not occupied. But, to put them in costume mode, you twist a little handle inside and all the animatronic parts compress to make space for a human to fit inside.”

More excited murmurs launched from the other employees as I noticed Michael tense up. He gave my hand an anxious squeeze.

“This is dangerous!” The murmurs instantly stopped at my outburst. William scowled at me as I continued. “I mean, what if someone’s trapped in there and the animatronic parts snap back into place? Think of the lawsuits! Not to mention, I don’t think a human being could survive that type of injury.” Another anxious hand squeeze from Michael told me that was a poor choice of words. I mentally kicked myself for being so insensitive.

About four months ago, he let me in on one of his darkest secrets. Something that had been plaguing him with guilt for most of his life. 

He was about 16 years old when William let Michael and his little siblings, Elizabeth and Evan, run wild in an off-site storage unit for Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. It was Evan’s tenth birthday, so William thought a storage site with half-finished machinery was a decent party setting. Though the restaurant hadn’t been established yet, he and Henry still wanted a base of operations for the animatronics they were working on.

Since Evan didn’t make friends easily, his mother, Clara, suggested that Michael invite his friends to Evan’s party to keep him company. This proved to be Evan’s worst nightmare, since Michael and his friends used to tease and bully him.

Evan feared one animatronic the most, so Michael and his friends thought it would be a funny prank to hoist him up to eye level with it. Evan squirmed around so much that his head ended up in its mouth. The last thing Michael heard from Evan was his crying before the animatronic’s jaw clamped shut over his head, crushing his skull and killing him.

Michael ran to get William for help, only to be harshly blamed, chastised, and even abused for Evan’s death. Clara later grew furious with William for being so cold to his own son after what was clearly an accident in an already unsafe environment, and the two began to argue, which didn’t help Michael’s situation at all.

To further add to the tragedy, Elizabeth disappeared that very same day after running off to play with another animatronic in the storage unit by herself. This only fueled William’s rage toward Michael. I couldn’t imagine how alone and scared Michael felt after having both of his siblings ripped from him at once, only to grow distant from his parents as well.

I remembered holding Michael as he sobbed after telling that story. My heart broke for him, and it took everything out of me not to cry alongside him. I appreciated that he felt comfortable enough to open up to me about this. We’d come so far together, and I wanted to be there for him in any way I could, even if all I could do was hold him.

So, that’s what I did. I held him as he buried his face in my shoulder, and rubbed his back as it heaved with each breath and sob. I felt almost useless beyond that. I’m not great with words when it comes to making people feel better. In that moment, I wished for some sort of magic spell that I could incant to put him at ease. Though the perfect words never came to me, Michael said that he appreciated my comfort.

I wouldn’t know anything about what coming from a broken family feels like. I was one of the lucky ones, having been raised by parents who treated me well in the big city. New York, to be exact. I was studying finances and entrepreneurship in college, hoping to someday open a business of my own, but I felt I wasn’t getting the hands-on experience that I needed. I felt that I was missing something.

One day, as I was coming home from college, my neighbor, Edith, stopped me and told me that her friend, Adelaide, told her that Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was looking for a financial advisor. Edith was always a sweet lady. I considered her like a grandma to me. My grandma-like image of her was only further supported by the fact that she baked my family cookies every Friday. It was nice that she looked out for me like that. She always made it clear that she had my best interest at heart, and I appreciated it. Not to mention that she just introduced me to what could have been the opportunity of a lifetime for me. This is it! I thought, This could be what I was missing all this time!

Edith gave me Adelaide’s phone number and I found out that the pizzeria was located all the way in Hurricane, Utah. My heart dropped at how far away it was from home, but Adelaide told me not to lose hope yet and later sent me a newspaper clipping in the mail with additional information about the restaurant. I was instantly enthralled by the bright colors and silly characters in the ad, as well as the promise of experience with managing finances in a real-life business setting. It was a long shot, but I summoned my strength and applied for the position. Before I knew it, I was accepted.

My parents were confused as to why I was suddenly so eager to move to a small town in the middle of nowhere, but I had my mind set on my future. Besides, I had originally planned on moving back to New York once I was ready to launch my own business. I dropped out of college, packed up, and set off across the country to move in with Adelaide. My priorities quickly shifted when I met Michael. Suddenly, I had a lover, and staying in a small town didn’t sound so bad. Though, starting my own business wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility…

Remembering how amused I used to be by the animatronics only made me feel bitter now, considering that each and every one was a walking death trap after hours. Once Michael gave my hand another anxious squeeze, my mind refocused on the worst of it, which stood right in front of the table we sat at.

“I can assure you that the springlock suits are completely safe.” Henry nervously chuckled, wringing his hands.

“Besides, me and my partner over here will be the only ones wearing the suits.” William reassured. “If there was any risk, which there isn’t,” He glared daggers at me. “Henry and I would be the only ones taking it. So, we’re not liable for anyone else’s physical well-being in that aspect.”

“How could you?!” Michael shot out of his chair, my hand left forgotten on the table, as he seemed to finally reach his breaking point. “How could you finish the project that-”

“If you finish that sentence the way I think you’re going to finish it, son, let me remind you who brought about that outcome.” William’s face was red with fury as he wagged his finger at Michael. “That was no fault of mine, boy.” Bastard! I wanted to scream and slap the shit out of William, but I sat still, swallowing bile instead. I almost got fired yesterday for yelling at the man. I didn’t need to risk a criminal assault charge next.

Michael clenched his jaw before he spat, “How could you even look at that face, knowing what it did?” He motioned to Fredbear, and I finally put the pieces together.

Fredbear was the animatronic that killed Evan. Fredbear killed Michael’s little brother, and William finished building it anyway. This was the most insensitive thing I’d ever seen him do. I felt nauseous.

“I believe whatever we’re discussing here can wait until after hours.” Henry stepped between the arguing two. “Right?”

The two glared at each other as if Henry wasn’t even there. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension before Michael broke the silence.

“Yeah.” He slowly backed away from the table, eyes unmoving from William. “Fine.” With that, he stormed out of the party room.

“Michael!” I lept out of my chair and quickly followed him. I heard Henry let out a defeated sigh behind me as I left the room.

As I reached the security office, I found Michael sitting in his chair with his face in his hands.

“Michael?” Though my call was just barely louder than a whisper, his head instantly shot up at the sound of my voice.

“Oh. Hello, love.” Michael’s watery eyes met mine, but his hands didn’t completely leave his face. The parts of his face that were showing through his hands were red and blotchy. I felt my heart sink at the sight of him.

“You shouldn’t listen to William.” I walked over and grabbed his hands, slowly coaxing them from his face. “His area of expertise is limited to creepy robots.” Creepy killer robots, but this didn’t seem like an appropriate time to bring that up. “For what it’s worth, I’m with you. This whole springlock thing is a stupid idea, and you deserve to be heard when trying to speak your mind.”

Michael sadly smiled. “Thank you, darling. That means a lot. It’s just-” He sighed. “What is going through my father’s head?”

“Who knows?” I brought Michael into a loose embrace, and he rested his head on my chest. “Your old man is crazy.”

Michael half-heartedly chuckled at my remark. “When is he not?”

“Hello, Fazbear crew~” The sing-songy voice sounded from one of the security cameras, instantly catching my attention. I recognized the woman’s medium frame and wavy auburn shoulder-length hair as she walked on-screen.

“Hello!” William greeted his wife.

“You forgot your lunch, dear!” She strolled over, handing him a paper bag and kissing him on the cheek.

“How forgetful of me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Thank you, doll.”

As I watched the exchange, I remembered what I’d witnessed the day before between William and Henry. My stomach twisted with guilt. Maybe I should have told her what I saw. I wished I’d never even caught William cheating on her in the first place. I wished I didn’t bear the burden of knowing what William did at work.

Clara seemed like a kind and gentle woman. I didn’t think she deserved to feel the pain that came with finding out that her husband cheated on her. Then again, I didn’t think she deserved to be cheated on in the first place.

I was torn between whether or not I should tell her. Would it be better for her to find out after everything she’s been through or suffer a silent misdeed in ignorant bliss?

Michael let out a heavy sigh, bringing my attention back to him. “I think I’ll be heading home now.”

I let him stand up before wrapping him in a tighter hug. “Of course. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there after my shift.” I tilted my head to give him a kiss before finally letting him go.

I watched him walk out of the door before turning to check the clock: 7:00 AM. Time for work.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

“Hun, I’m home!” I called into the still air of our shared home as I slid my ankle boots off of my feet. Our house was small but cozy. There was only the two of us living here, after all. We didn’t need any extravagant arrangements.

By the time I stepped into the house, I still didn’t get a response, so I tried calling again, “Michael?” I slowly walked over to our bedroom, freezing at the closed door.

I could hear soft sighs and low moans coming from inside. “Mh… Ah- P- please…”

My stomach seized. Was he sick? Was he hurt? How long was he left suffering like this? I steeled my nerves and threw the door open, ready to help him.

Michael lay on our bed, still fully clothed in his work uniform, but his shirt was unbuttoned from top to bottom. His eyes were squeezed shut as he panted, stroking his hand up and down on his exposed cock. He let out a soft whine, breathily moaning my name.

I softly closed the door behind me and silently made my way closer to him. He looked like a painting. His brow was knit in concentration, and the noises he made were like music to my ears. His cheeks were lightly flushed as sweat began to dew his face. He looked perfect, and part of me wanted to reach out and touch him to make sure he was real.

“Missed me?” It took a lot to keep my voice low and even, but the faint pulsing sensation forming between my thighs made it difficult to keep my composure.

His mouth dropped into an ‘o’ shape as his eyes flew open in shock at the sound of my voice. “D- darling! You’re home early.” Though he was surprised, his hand didn’t move from his length.

I softly chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I came home at the same time as always, my love. It looks like you might have lost track of time, hm?”

“I… I suppose so.” His eyes fluttered closed at the contact. “I’m sorry, love.” He breathed.

“Please don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.” I moved my hand to caress his cheek, earning a soft sigh from him. “You’re so pretty when you’re begging for me~”

He opened his eyes to innocently look up at me. “You’re the only one who can truly satisfy me.” I could have sworn my heart melted in my chest.

“Then may I?” I felt the corners of my mouth upturn in a mischievous smirk as Michael wildly nodded.

“Please...” His sigh bordered on a moan as he dropped his painfully hard dick onto his stomach.

I lightly grabbed the collar of his shirt. “All of this has to come off, then.”

He wordlessly nodded in response before stripping. I quickly discarded my own clothes and dug through my dresser drawer until I found the box of condoms I kept inside. I grabbed one and turned around to see Michael sitting in the middle of the bed, looking up at me with those baby-doll eyes I loved so much. I felt a slick sensation forming between my thighs as I looked him over.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, my love.” I crawled into bed next to him and pulled him into a deep kiss.

He moaned into my mouth and pulled me on top of him, laying back as he did so. I pulled away from the kiss, sitting up and straddling his thighs to open the condom I grabbed and roll it onto his cock.

All the while, Michael was softly complimenting me. “You’re so beautiful, love. Absolutely stunning. I want to make you feel good.”

“What a good boy~” I praised him. “Always so willing to please me.” Michael softly whimpered at my compliments as I tossed the wrapper of the condom aside and leaned forward to cup his face in my hands. “But, tonight, I want to make it about you, my love. Let me spoil you.”

He tried to turn away out of embarrassment, but I pulled him into another kiss and I felt his arms wrap around my body as he grew audibly desperate for me. He then began bucking his hips into mine, teasing my cunt without even realizing it.

I felt a pang of desire tear through me before I pulled away from the kiss to ask, “Are you ready, hun?”

“More than anything…” He moaned. “Please, love. I want to be inside you.”

I gave him a quick peck on the tip of his nose before lining his cock up with my entrance. As I slid him inside, we both let out a low moan in unison. I felt my mind clouding with pleasure as I bottomed out, enjoying the full sensation in my core. Michael’s head dropped back onto the bed and he squeezed his eyes shut.

His voice grew whinier and he began incoherently praising me. “Mh… Yes… So tight… Mh…”

I trailed kisses along his jaw until I reached his earlobe to give it a playful nip. “You feel so good inside me, Michael~” I purred as I ground my hips against him.

He let out a whimper at my teasing. “Please…” His eyes fluttered open, growing watery. “Please… Need more…”

That was all I needed to hear. I sat up into a straddling position and set a brutal pace as I began to ride him. Michael was a mess underneath me. He was reduced to broken moans and whines that bordered on sobs. He was clearly waiting for this for a while, and I was loving every moment of seeing the image of perfection sprawled out beneath me. 

Michael relying on me completely to grant him release. Michael begging and pleading for me. Michael absolutely blissed out under my touch, unable to put to words how good I make him feel. Michael~

I bit my lip with concentration as I felt the pressure in my core mounting. I involuntarily clenched around Michael, and he responded by gripping my thighs and bucking his hips with my movements while letting out a string of incoherent begs and pleas.

“Ah- That’s it, Michael.” I praised him through broken moans. “You make me feel so good…”

“Ohhh… I- I’m close…” Tears slowly streamed out of Michael’s eyes. “Please, darling, please… Ohhhh…”

I leaned forward, still thrusting, and whispered, “Cum for me, hun. Show me how good it feels.”

That was enough to send Michael over the edge. His eyes rolled back and his voice cracked as he hit his climax. I helped him ride out his high as his cock twitched and spilled cum into the condom, trailing ravenous kisses along his neck before my own orgasm crashed into me.

I let out a loud moan as the waves of my climax washed over me. The world slowed for a moment, and the only thing keeping me tethered to reality was feeling Michael’s body against mine. For a moment, I wished I could spend the rest of my days in this state of ecstasy. Once we were both finished, we held each other in our arms, panting and satisfied.

I went to lift off of Michael when he softly grabbed my thighs and pulled me back down onto him. “Just a little longer… Please?”

“Okay.” I pecked his cheek. “Just a little longer.” I lazily smiled at him, my eyes trailing down his neck to find the bruise I left when I trailed kisses along it. I knew he would be embarrassed and wear his collar just a little higher to hide it during his next shift, but I would know that I marked him. I was instantly filled with a sense of pride. My pretty boy~

“Thank you.” He breathed, rubbing his hand along my back. “For… everything today. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Not just me. You deserve the world.” I rested my face in the crook of his neck, embracing him and his body heat. “And I love you so much that I’d do anything to give it to you.”

“I- I don’t know what to say.” Michael wrapped his arms tighter around me before softly sighing. “I love you, too.”

[that-guy-jin]

Day Eleven: Surrogate

TW: Violence, Foul Language

Evening had set in along the port city of Kugane, the night life had been more lively than most nights, likely due to a special event being just around the corner for the far eastern nation. While the two weren't ones for big crowds or taking part in such celebrations, they did however still partake in their own way. Mostly done from the comfort of their own home, they still needed to make their way to the markets to procure a few things.

Suki had kept close to Jin, clinging to his arm, tail making its attempts to keep coiled around his leg with every step, her head buried in his side; her eyes scanned the area. She had never been a fan of so many people in one place, the prospect often overwhelming her senses, causing her to shut inside her or glue herself to Jin's hip more than she usually does.

The viara himself wasn't a fan of crowds either. Though, in his case, he had a general disdain for people, having been around long enough to see nearly any and every side an individual can possess; it only caused him to become more jaded as time went on. He kept an arm around the raen, understanding well by now that she would rather be anywhere else right now and he couldn't agree more with her.

"I promise, we'll make this as quick as possible. Trust me, I don't want to be here long either.", Jin spoke up, trying to be heard over the bustling city folk.

She nodded against him, one of her hands clutching at the fabric of his kimono, "I know, I know. I'm sorry for being like this…"

He'd shake his head, "Hey, don't be sorry - some people aren't-"

In the midst of his sentence, a couple of drunkards bumped into them, nearly stumbling back onto the gravel in the same motion. "H-HEY! Watch where you're goin'. There's more than just you two here, you know!"

Jin quirked a brow at the remark, grumbling a bit under his breath, though offering a hand nonetheless. "Yes, you and your friend here should keep that in mind as well. Just an observation."

The man had a fowl expression on his face, rejecting the offered hand as he clumsily regained his footing, getting a little too close to Jin, "W-What did you-hic-just say? You're the one that wasn't paying attention." He glanced down to Suki, the other imbibed friend having been eyeing her up the entire time up to that point. "This your lady?" The other spoke with a slur, comparing the two side by side, "Aren't you a little old for a girl that fresh? She looks like she should still be taking classes."

Jin's brows furrowed, a nerve struck at the remark. Suki's cheeks reddened at the suddenness of the question. Jin looked over to her then back to the two hindered individuals, "She's my ward. I'm duty-bound to her." He said this as he brought her impossibly closer, already smelling an altercation blending in with the stench of sake and whatever else they were up to prior.

The two looked at one another, a wide grin spreading on both before looking back to Jin and Suki, "Oh? Duty-bound? What, you two love doing that kind of roleplay? You into that kinda thing? Not surprising with people arou-hic-nd here."

The expression on Jin's face contorted more, a scowl slowly drawing on his features. Suki placed a hand on his chest, "Jin, please. Let's just go, o-okay?"

The other chimed in right after, "Aw, what?~ Afraid to admit it? Don't worry, we can help you out. Have you called him 'daddy' yet? Or may-"

Before the man could finish his remark, Jin gifted him a backhand that sent him hard on his back. "Who the fuck-", the other spoke, grabbing the neck of the bottle in his hand, swinging it towards the viara.

Seeing it from a malm away, he caught the arm, using his free hand to find a vice grip around the drunkard's neck. He put an uncomfortable amount of pressure around it, the man starting to choke and suffocate.

Jin kept him like this, the hues of his deadpan expression flashing a fervent glow, "I'd prefer if you didn't end up like your friend, so keep your mouth shut. Pick him up and be on your way, less I hail the guard after taking care of you."

A deadly glare pierced the man for a moment longer, Jin wanting to watch the life slowly drain from his eyes - a lesson being taught for his careless words.

"Jin, please! You're going to draw too many eyes!", Suki spoke, looking around as other passersby started to take notice, mumbling to those nearby. "We'll get what we need to tomorrow, earlier, so we don't have to worry about this. Please…"

The plea had been heard, bringing him out of whatever depth he'd begun to fall into. Simply throwing him aside, the man tumbled next to his companion, gasping and choking for air.

By the time he regained his breath, Jin and Suki were already blending back into the crowd, making a path towards the bridge and back home.

[daytonwentupinflames]

--

[patxhwrk]

Ong helo again, i want to req reverse streamer au w childe when the reader acc dies at the golden house where the traveller aka childe fight them amdjjsjsjs, i kinda wanna see how his reaction is. (Lets just say the liyue harbor osial attack was done by another hsrbinger)

Just this and if yoi dont write for angst or you dont wanna write this feel free to delete thsi req. (I got the request idea when j was reading your latest work, it was really good 🤸‍♂️)

Yeah give me that angst baybee im a sucker for sadness

I may be a bit bad at writing angst tho, its not my strongest in writing

Also i know you cant see in game bruises/scratches but lets just pretend they exist even out of cutscene

Lets pretend Y/n's little sibling in game is also named Teucer

-ˋˏ✄— Fallen Harbinger

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Tartaglia x Reader [ Reversed + Streamer AU ! ]

Pronouns: they/them

"Farewell, Fallen Harbinger."

CW: Angst! Death! Mentions of blood!

.navigation. // .genshin impact masterlist.

'Go to the Golden House,' the quest read.

It had just been another regular day for Childe. Wake up, do his morning chores, then do his regular, messily scheduled streaming.

And, as per usual, he had been streaming Genshin Impact, a well known game in the streaming community.

"The Golden House? Uh, okay then..."

He stole a glance at his chat, who were telling each other to shut up, while some only asked what would happen in confusion. Spoilers were probably deleted by his mods.

"Chat, you're scaring me, chat. What the hell is going to happen? No, no, don't tell me, I don't think I want to know yet."

Something in his head screamd at him, as a cutscene played. His chosen traveller looked around the Golden House before stepping closer to the Exurvia of the former Geo Archon.

And then, in stepped familiar h/c hair, their e/c eyes devoid of light despite the golden mora shining within the Golden House.

"Hey! The lil skrunkly!" He whispered, low enough to not desturb the cutscene.

They conversed for a bit, before the cutscene ended and a battle began.

"Surreder is a valid option, I promise I'll be gentle."

Childe swallowed his saliva, laughing quietly to himself.

"Oh I am going to have fun. Maybe."

─𖠄࿐

The fight ended, and Childe was shaking in his seat. He had barely finished phase 3, getting disracted many times.

Another cutscene played, revealing a tired, worn out traveller. But Y/n was no better, not even on his level.

Standing across the traveller, now out of their Foul Legacy form, was same old Y/n, shaking in their place as scratches and bruises littered their skin.

"Hah, you've bested me. How... intriguing. You truely are...as strong as they say."

Childe, having a chill run up his spine, stared intelty at his screen, deathly quiet.

"La Signora has even praised you for your strength, even if she had not faught you herself, yet. Hah, to get a Harbinger's attention and praise... You sure are a special one, huh?"

─𖠄࿐

Having none of their energy remaining, Y/n collapsed to the floor, on their knees. They could see the traveller hesitate to approach them, but they spoke before he could move.

"Well? What are you waiting for? I may have overused Foul Legacy, and it wont be too long."

They spared a glance at the traveller, and even in their weakest moment, a competetive and mischievous glint shone in their once dull eyes.

"Go on. Aren't you going to kill me?"

The traveller's breath hitched, before they chuckled once again.

"Haha, only joking... Unless you're up to it, of course. I'm not quite a fan of dying to Foul Legacy, but after a fight with the oh so great traveller? It was a fight worth dying for, I guess."

Coughing, blood trickled down their chin, and they wiped it off with the back of their hand.

"May I be able to hope to see you again? To have another battle? Perhaps in the far future, perhaps never again at all..."

Taking a step forward, the traveller ceased his motion as the Harbinger raised a hand.

"No need. Whatever healing you might try to do would not work. Foul Legacy takes my energy, decreasing my life span. Perhaps I wasn't meant to live long, perhaps my only purpose was to serve the Tsaritsa."

A chuckle, breathy and tired and solemn and...happy.

Happy to have someone to pass one last message for them.

"Before you leave," they spoke. "You'll probably be able to find one or two of the Harbingers here. One of them would be summoning a god banished to the depths below. You cannot stop them. Or maybe you can. But, before you leave."

They looked up, and despite the scratches and blood on their face, their half lidded eyes shined a thousand times brighter than all the mora in the Golden House.

"My siblings... My mother, my father... Everyone..."

They smiled, brighter than their eyes. It was soft and kind and solemn and genuine and sad.

A million words spoke through that smile. A million messages, a million apologies, a million grateful thank yous. Directed to their family, their parents, their siblings.

A million farewells. Directed to everyone.

Directed to the traveller. To Childe.

"Give them one last goodbye for me, will you? A hug, for everyone. A kiss on the cheek, for mum and dad."

A smile, solemn and bright. But never remorseful, never faux.

"Tell Teucer I'm sorry."

Falling to their side, they collapsed on the ground with a thud, and the Golden House was deathly quiet.

─𖠄࿐

Childe stared at the screen. Eyes wide, mouth agape. If you looked close enough, you could see his shaking form as the cutscene ended.

Another quest popped up.

'Bid Y/n L/n a final goodbye.'

And he wailed in his seat.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he made it seem more dramatic to make people assume he wasn't really badly affected by their death.

"I— what— NO! My skrunkly! My little meow meow!"

He moved his character to stand in front of Y/n, an interact button popping up.

'Bid your farewells.'

He did so, seeing his character change to the traveller, who kneeled down beside Y/n. Paimon floated down to the ground, placing a hand on their head.

"...We promise you, Y/n. Your family will be alright."

Taking a flower, a Cecilia from Mondstadt, the traveller gingerly placed it atop their head.

"...We'll be going now, Y/n." He said, and stood up.

Childe had been quiet the whole time, and he could see his chat going wild on the corner of his eyes, all screaming 'NO' or 'o7' or anything alike.

"What the fuck!?" He exclaimed, not touching the game. Rolling his chair backwards a bit, he turned his head to chat, hands intertwined in front of his face, covering his mouth.

He wiped his teary eyes and wet cheeks, trying to find his voice.

"That was too early! I thought I could ignore the death flags until further!!" He exclaimed, staring directly at his face cam. Running a hand through his hair, he dramatically slouched on his chair, groaning loudly.

"Nooo! I would have protected them!"

Suddenly springing up from his seat, he wailed even louder.

"THEIR FAMILY!! THEY'RE GOING TO BE FUCKING DEVASTATED! And— and— their siblings! TEUCER!" He exclaimed.

"I'm sueing Mihoyo Hoyoverse what the fuck."

─𖠄࿐

@Tartaglia Tweeted!

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT WHY I— NOOOO

@ScaryMouche Tweeted!

@Tartaglia do u know how loud u are wailing up there??

@Tartaglia Tweeted!

THEY KILLED THEM SCARA THEY KILLED Y/N

@ScaryMouche Tweeted!

WE KNOW YOUVE BEEN FUKIN CRYING ABOUT IT FOR THE PAST HOUR

@ScaryMouche Tweeted!

Honestly if u didnt pay most of the rent Dottore probably would have kicked u out before you lasted an hour in this house

@Tartaglia Tweeted!

Guys who wants to come with me lets make a personal shrine for Y/n in our backyard

@IlDottore Tweeted!

@Tartaglia Do that and I will burn you and the shrine.

—PATCHWRK !

[plush-rabbit]

Thorn In Your Mouth

Request: I'm not quite sure if requests are open, but if they are, may I please request some nsfw noncon with Lucifer or Satan from obey me with a fem! MC?

They're demons, and they love quite differently from humans. One could say their love is overly suffocating and affectionate…

Warning: Noncon

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: i think i made him more jealous in this so,,, hope you like it??

-

It was sweet at first to have Satan fret over you, to care for you in such a way that made you feel safe, but you soon learned that you craved your space, that you missed whenever you could just go out without having to worry about him getting angry at you. He might have directed his wrath towards you at first, but it was never in this way, never in such a jealousy, overwhelming way that you made you grit your teeth and glare at his back. A part of you knows that this is what you signed up for- he’s a demon, one born out of wrath no less, but you didn’t want that to cloud you. You wanted to see the good in him. But even so, he’s still a demon- a possessive one that fears losing you more than anything.

“Where were you?” He asks, his voice steady and eyes piercing into yours. “I tried calling you but-” he tilts his head and an uncomfortable grin pulls at his lips- “you didn’t answer.”

You’re tired of it all. You’re exhausted and just want to borrow a book that could help you sleep. You’re the one to break eye contact with him fist, turning around and rubbing your hand over your neck. “I don’t know Satan, I was just out with friends.” You grab at a book, the title written in thin letters and eager to be done with the conversation, you accept it. “It’s no biggie.” It shouldn’t be and it isn’t. And yet, anxiety still plagues your body.

The exit is near, the doors closed and the light in the hallway, a dim glow signaling that it is indeed time for bed. You make your way, only to be halted by Satan’s hand wrapping around your wrist. “It is a ‘biggie’-” he quotes, annoyance a sliver on his tongue- “when you don’t tell me where or who you’re going out with.” His grip tightens on you and your hand grows stiff, a twinge of fear pooling against your stomach. “What if you were hurt? What then?” You narrow your eyes at him and feebly try to pull away your arm from him. He doesn’t relent. “Where were you?”

Finding it much easier to just tell the truth and get it over with, you sigh. “I was out with friends, Satan. Some imps and incubi from the seventh period. You know them,” you add, hoping that it’ll jog his memory and remind him that it’s mutual friends that he’s so worried about. “We went to the mall and got some ice cream there.”

“Multiple people you went out with then, huh.” You raise your brows, your eyes glancing back to where your wrist is held in his hand. “And if I am their friend- as you say- then why wasn’t I invited?”

You shrug, giving him a puzzled stare. “I don’t know. You weren’t in class. You had some lunch to go to with those friends of yours. We’ll invite you next time.” You yank at your wrist, only to be met with a tighter hold. “Satan. Let go.”

“Do you love me?” He asks, the tension in the room is lost on him and you look at him with an incredulous look, surprised that he would even ask you that at a time like this. “Because I love you. I’m a good partner. I listen and I kiss you and yet, you go around with a group of demons and do who-knows-what while I sit at home waiting for you to come back.”

The meaning of his words aren’t lost on you. Your arm is stretched, extended out as he still holds a grip on you but you need the distance as slight as it may be. “Are you implying that I cheated on you?” He doesn’t respond and stays with his eyes locked on yours. “Satan, I went out with friends. That’s it! Nothing more and nothing less. What the actual fuck.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, the book now discarded on the table beside you. “You know what? Just let go. We can talk about this tomorrow. I’m not in the mood right now.” Your eyes catch at the underside of the door where the light remains steady, the yellow glow teasing at you where freedom lies. “Satan, you’re hurting me.” You hope that that is enough to make him realize what he’s doing.

You’re pushed over the edge of the table, your stomach painfully pressing against the edge of the wood. Your hands flail for a moment, patting and scratching against the table, your legs tense as you call his name, anger evident in your voice. “What the fuck is your problem?” You hiss out, your palms against the table only to be pulled away and grabbed in his hands. “Satan,” you call his name, worry and fear intertwining together. He remains silent, the heel of his shoe clicking against the floor as he presses himself close to you, his groin pressed against your rear. “Satan, what the fuck are you doing?”

There's a crackle of energy that fills your ear, a popping sound akin to Black Cats, the smell of mahogany and citrus in the air as his hands tighten around you. Skin slips away, a harsh press against the back of your head as you’re pushed into the warming wood, and you’re frozen in fead. The room, while devoid of talk, is filled with noise- the buzzing of the electricity, the cracking of his tail and the deep breaths that he takes, the high sound of his zipper becoming undone and the clicking of his shoes. The noise is driving you insane, blood in your ears as you gasp out his name, trying to turn your head, but only being able to face the wall, and you catch a g,impe of yourself in a mirror, faced down with a demon towering behind you.

“You know that I love you, right?” Something sharp replaces where his hands used to be, thorns piercing into your tender skin as you feel his hands hook on the waistband of your jeans. Your breath stops, and something heavy pools on your tongue. “I do everything right by you and yet-” his nails scratch against your skin- “you treat me like trash. You treat me as if I don’t matter.” Cold air meets your warm skin and you’re left in your underwear and shirt, your sex covered by thin fabric. “Do I not matter to you?” He says your name and it isn’t something sweet, it isn’t something that makes you feel warm. It’s something that sounds too foul to be said out loud. He’s ruined your name in just one simple sentence.

“You matter Satan,” you whisper, clenching your sex. Your eyes are unmoving, watching your distant reflection that has a monster behind you, their hands on your underwear and tearing it from your body. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard to your ears. “Satan, sweetheart, please. Let’s talk, okay? Please.”

“Then why didn’t you pick up my calls?” The tip of his cock is pressed against your thigh, something cool leaking down your leg in a slimy trail. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? Were you keeping it a secret from me?” You shake your head, rubbing along the wood and his hand returns to your head, yanking at your hair and pulling on the strands until you rise and are brought on your knees before him. “No? Really? You’re going to lie to me?”

His erection is close to you, close enough to feel the heat, to see how the tip leaks with his pearling semen. “I’m not-”

“If you’re going to lie, then I'd rather just put your mouth to better use.” He grabs your face, dark green scales that run along his body and trail at his thighs. Your nose is pushed against the underside of his cock, his ridges pressing into you and semen already leaking onto your hairline. His scent is strong, suffocating as he pulls you back, your mouth opening when he twists at your hair, a sharp scream that is soon muffled by his cock entering your mouth. “Make sure you get it wet enough. It’s my cock that I’m going to stick in your little holes.”

Wasting no time, you’re pushed to the base of his cock, your nose buried in his pubic hair. He holds you there, letting his cockhead drip down your throat with his heavy semen. Your tongue is pressed flat against the underside of his ridges, the pointed end of his cock ticking at the back of your throat as he starts to move.

It’s a slow choking motion, his cock filling your mouth only to empty it in a way that makes you feel dumb enough to breathe. Every breath is stuck, lodged in the back of your throat and leaving you a choking mess against his cock. He wastes no time, holding the sides of your head and pushing himself inside of you, using your mouth as his own toy.

Each thrust of his cock has your stomach rising, acid billowing in the base of your throat, his scent and cologne mixing together to overstimulate yourself. Your name is whispered, a soft prayer under his tongue as he deflies your mouth, semen spilling and filling your mouth, tears that sting against your eyes and drip past your chin. It’s harsh, and unforgiving and in your head you curse him and plead to whatever God there is, that he’ll let you live and walk away, that this is some horrific nightmare to make you into a follower. You choke and cy, your throat constricting and face becoming hot, shame and horror flooding throughout your body and you’re left sobbing against his cock.

His hands are rough, nothing like you know them to be, his words soft as ever and yet, you’re still pushed down to the table with your jaw slack and drool dripping down your chin and tears mixing with the heavy liquid. Your mouth is stained with his semen, white bubbling out past your lips as you meet your reflection once more. Your legs are spread and you can only think of saying his name, to have your hands paw pitifully at the table as you call him through a broken mantra.

You’re glad that you listened to him, that you did get his cock wet enough to slip in you without fuss. It’s a slight pinch, sharp and twisting inside of you as your thrusted into, your chest pressed against the wooden table. Everything is on high alert, all your senses overloaded as your sex is filled, ridges tickling inside your walls. Each thrust clicks, a wet snap as he pushes himself inside of you, his tail wrapping around your throat and yanking you upwards, a string of drool snaps against your chin as it’s ripped from the desk. The tip of his tail is thick, filling your mouth as it rests on your tongue, the edges poking against the inside of your cheeks. You’re lifted, your legs bent and resting on the table as he pushes inside of you, your cunt fluttering against him as his base thickens, warm seed coating your walls.

He pulls out of you, and you whisper a soft thank you, your head turning, the red wood clouding your vision. You ignore the feeling of his hand that crawls over your rear, that tickles against your curve and pushes against your taint.

“No, no,” you moan, your body weak and in pain to stop him from continuing. Not like this Satan, please.” But he’s too overwhelmed to listen to you, pressing the slender tip of his cock against the rim of your hole and pushing inside of you.

You squeal and it’s enough for him to push himself inside of you, each curve and ridge filling and marking the inside of you. Your body spasms, your cunt warm and dripping with his semen. His tail pushes deeper inside of you, choking you and letting you taste your spit and his seed that still lingers.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your ear. “Please,” he begs, holding your body as he enters you. His teeth sink into your shoulder, the pain twisting together leaving you tense and biting on his tail, your tongue pressed firmly against a ridge.

“It hurts,” you mewl, your hands cupping over your breasts to stop the shameful movement. “‘M sorry,” you mumble, your tongue swishing over his tail. With you being stretched, you can feel him in certain areas that makes your body tense and flex. Despite the uncaring nature, you still react to him, shaking and tightening yourself around him, calling his name as you drool over his tail and onto your shirt.

“I love you,” Satan mutters, “I love you,” he repeats, holding you close to him, feeling his heart pump against your back, feeling it rattle against you. “I love you,” he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and words sweet enough to make tears spring to your eyes. He thrusts inside of you, his arms hooking under your knees and horns grazing and picking up strands of your hair as he presses harsh kisses against his bite mark.

You can feel his seed, hot and heavy, flooding inside of your walls and drenching past your heated core, staining the floor beneath you and splattering onto the table legs. With a quick glance, your eyes are strained and your thin arousal mixes in with his semen, coating at his cock and leaving your cunt in syrupy strands. Your legs are lowered, too strained and weak, your latch onto the desk, your bottom lip trembling as you try to remain steady.

Cotton fills your mind, a drug that is welcomed as the ache in your lower regions start to sharpen and dull. Colors mix and the slightest movement has you closing your mouth tightly, your hands already grasping around his neck and clinging to him for dear life. “Don’t drop me,” you plead in a delicate voice, turning to press your nose against his chest.

His hum is deep in his chest, rumbling softly like a distant storm that lulls you to sleep. His hands are soft, rubbing over the parts where he hits, and shushing you when you let out a high-pitched whine. His lips press against your forehead and his hands are soft. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, humming as he nuzzles his face close to yours. “Are you tired?” You nod. “Then let’s go to sleep, okay?”

[honey-milk-depresso]

Ah yes I created a demon butler for my MC... He likes teasing MC cuz she's smoller than him

A grown man with hair that has a light red orange shade and misty rose color suddenly appeared. He's dressed in suit like a butler and is wearing a monocle

The man spoke to Marie:"Milady it's time to go back. It's about time for your dinner"

Marie, quite surprised to see him:"Oh how did you know I was here? Did Grim tell you? How can you even get here? But knowing you it wasn't hard for you to figure out a way to get her,you can do extraordinary things. Almost as if you're a god. How cliche since you're a demon. Anyway today I met a guy in this universe. His name is Aeppermint and he kinda reminds me of you. To be honest I went here so I won't have to listen ypu nagging so much"

The man said sarcastically:"Great first is Sebastian Michaelis now it's Aeppermint. Who next? Claude Faustus? You should stop comparing me to others, it's quite a rude behaviour for a lady.Also Milady please don't compare me to god. I don't believe such a being exist. And you gone to this universe so you won't have to listen to me nagging??! I wouldn't call that "nagging", I call that "trying to fix your behaviour"

Marie rolled her eyes:" Yeah yeah. Whatever,old man. You acting like my dad even though I don't even care about having a father is annoying. You complain quite a lot about my "unladylike manners"

"You still sound foul and yet so sophisticated as always it seems"

"Anyway Aeppermint,let me introduce you this man. His name is Eligos,my butler"

Eligos bowed slightly and reintroduce himself:"Oh so you're Aeppermint? Nice to meet you, I'm Eligos Faust,lady Marinetta's butler"

KJSHJHD HI- Had some studying- and I know I would take a long time writing bUT HERE I AM >:3333

(A pleasure meeting you as well, Eligos,) Aepper bowed politely, quill still in hand.

(You two seem to have a close and friendly relationship,) Aepper smirked teasingly. He placed the quill on the table and move aside another finished document, the pile progressively gotten shorter, though still looked loaded.

(Dinner? Marinetta, perhaps you should go back to eat. I don’t want to hold you back as something important as dinner, it’s quite essential,) Aepper states, casually twirling his umbrella in the floor in slow, circular motions.

Ah, seemed I finished half of the damn work. Perhaps I should see Yuu and Trey, Aepper thought. He decided that perhaps Trey was taking care of Yuu.

(Well, Eligor. You’re pretty lucky to serve Miss Marinetta. I have a dead beat and a literal dead one,) Aepper states, by no means to sound offensive, but it seems that his comment came off quite blunt, to which he awkwardly coughed.

(..Pardon me, I wasn’t supposed to sound rude. But I hope both of you have a lovely evening and dinner. I’ll be heading to Master Crowley’s office to pass up half of the stack,) Aepper announced.

The peppermint boy wrapped the stack of documents in a thick, brown parcel paper and tied it with a string, stuffing it in a black satchel.

He took his umbrella, opening the big window where the wind, like a curious animal, surged it’s invisible hands in the office. Thank god half the stack remained still with the really heavy paperweight.

He opened his umbrella as he stood on the ledge, nodding his head with a smile at the two before he leaped, creating a black looking box glowing a mysterious, turquoise green. 

As he gone through it, he disappears.

The box shattered.