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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Honest Apology + "I'm in love with you, and that scares me." 🐟✨
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Day 7 - Distant
Prompt: 7: Honest Apology + Alt: “I’m in love with you, and that scares me.” Character: Frank Castle Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Word Count: 2318 Warnings: Break-up fears, referenced near-fatal injury, referenced canon character death, fear of death, fear of loss. Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist
Companion piece to Day 27 - You Are To Me, Day 1 - Why?, and Day 11 - Proof of Life
Distant
You put down your phone. You took a deep breath, shallowing the lump in your throat. You weren’t going to cry. Not here at the coffee shop. You hated crying in public.
Frank hadn’t answered your call. He hadn’t been answering any of your calls. Or your texts. And he hadn’t tried to call back. Not a single word out of him. And you hadn’t seen him either.
You knew he wasn’t dead. Someone would have told you. They wouldn’t let you just sit and worry.
And you didn’t think he had his phone. Or otherwise couldn’t communicate. None of your mutual friends had called or come to see you, asking if you had heard from Frank. Which they would have if he hadn’t contacted any of them for a week.
You didn’t understand. Frank had never done this. While he did have a tendency to slink off to nurse his wounds or illnesses in private, he had always responded to you. Always called or texted back. Likewise he had done some missions where it was too dangerous to contact you until it was over. But he had always warned you about that before he left. This time he hadn’t. He had just left.
Just walked out of the door of the place you shared like it was ordinary morning. With the exception that he hadn’t kissed you good-bye like he usually did . . . and then nothing. You hadn’t see him. You hadn’t hear from him. He had just walked out. Without a single backwards glance. Like you meant nothing.
Tears burned your eyes. You tried to fight them. You weren’t going to cry . . . you weren’t . . . you weren’t . . .
Something thumped onto the table, startling you. It was a coffee. And sliding into the booth across from you was Karen. She looked concerned.
“Hi Karen,” you said, trying to conjure a smile.
Her worried frown deepened. Apparently your efforts failed to pass muster. Seemed to be pattern.
“What’s wrong? You look like you’re trying not to cry.”
“Nothing,” you lied. “Everything is fine.”
“Lie,” Karen said.
“Is Matt contagious?” You asked. “Should I watch out for signs of ninja syndrome? Are you experiencing the sudden urge to jump out of random windows?”
Your attempt at humor fell as flat as your smile. Karen just looked at you, skeptism mixed with concern. “I don’t need Matt’s ninja skills to know you were lying. But while we were on the topic of Matt, he said you smelled like stress and like you had been crying yesterday.”
Thinking back on it, Matt had seemed more concerned than usual when he asked how you were doing . . . kept asking if you were sure that you were fine. If his recess hadn’t been ending, he probably would have pushed . . .
You startled again when you were touched. Just Karen again, her hand resting ontop of yours. Her blue eyes full of sympathy and concern. “You know you can tell me. What’s wrong?”
Maybe it was the sympathy in her voice. Maybe it was the geniune worry. Maybe you just really needed someone to talk to. But soon, the whole story came spilling out. About how, about a week after you had gotten out of the hospital, Frank had been . . . different. Quieter, more distant. Obviously stressed about something. He had nightmares. Something had been bothering him but he refused to tell you. Not entirely unusual. Getting Frank to open up sometimes was like pulling teeth. From the mouth of a particularly angry tiger. So you hadn’t thought it worrying, thought that he would talk to you when he was ready. Just like he had before.
Only this time he didn’t. And then he left.
By the time you reached the end of your explanation, you had lost the battle with the tears. Karen had moved to sit next to you, so she could give you a hug. It was one-armed hug because of the booth but you’d take it.
“I’m so sorry,” Karen said, her voice a mixture of sympathy and anger. “I thought something was up with Frank. But I didn’t realize he was pulling this shit.”
“I just don’t understand,” you said. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “My best guess is that it has something with you getting shot. That really scared him.”
“I know,” you said. You remembered the look on his face just before you lost consciousness. The look when you woke up in the hospital. And when the doctor came in to explain just how lucky you were to you and your ‘husband.’ But he had been so attentive when you first got home . . . then it was like a switch had flipped. And all that warmth had disappeared.
“Did anything out of ordinary happen?”
“No,” you said. “The nightmares were bad just before he left but that’s happened before. And he didn’t take off. Might have slept on the couch until they settled down but he stayed.”
You shallowed. “Until now. Only other difference between then and now was that I told him I loved him.”
Karen smiled. It was a sad, little smile. “Finally told him? When?”
“The hospital,” you said. “He wanted to know what the hell I was thinking, pushing him out of the way like that. And I wasn’t . . . There was a gun pointing at the back of the man I love and I just . . . reacted.”
Karen made a thoughtful humming sound. “I’m guessing he didn’t say it back.”
“No,” you said. “Maybe because he doesn’t feel the same way.”
There it was. The truth that you had been trying to avoid. That Frank didn’t feel the same. Oh, he obviously cared about you. He liked you. Found you attractive. But none of that meant he loved you.
“Maybe,” Karen said but she didn’t sound convinced.
You felt a surge of rage. “The fucking coward could at least tell me to my face. Instead of just . . . ghosting me.”
“I agree,” Karen said. “It’s a shitty thing to do . . .”
Then she got that ‘eureka’ look on her face, like all of the puzzle pieces had just clicked together. “I think I know what’s going on. And how to get it fixed.”
“I don’t know if this can be fixed,” you said morosely, feeling very tired. That surge of anger had used up what was left of your energy.
“You’d rather he stay gone?”
“No,” you said. “I love him. I want to be with him forever. Guess he just doesn’t feel that way. I just wish . . . if he doesn’t want to be part of my life anymore, that he’d just say so. It will break my heart even more than it already is but at least I’d know. I deserve that much.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Karen said. “Now let’s get you back home. I’m going to fix this.”
You didn’t mean to doubt Karen. Normally you had every confidence in her brilliant mind and determination to achieve whatever she set out to accomplish. But you weren’t feeling particularly optimistic today.
She must have seen the skepticial look on your face. “Trust me. I’m an expert of getting stupidly stubborn men to remove their heads from their asses.”
***
You should have never doubted Karen. Because two days later, there he was. Standing by your front door with a bakery box in his hand. He at least had the grace to look sheepish and awkward.
“Frank,” you greeted, managing to keep your voice cool and even.
“Sweetheart,” he returned
“Am I?” you asked, a hint of your anger entering your voice. “Because you could have fucking fooled me.”
“You are,” he said, grimacing. “Through I can see why you’d think otherwise.”
He took a deep breath. “May I come in?”
At least he didn’t think he had the right to just waltz right in like nothing had happened. And while the angry, hurt parts of your heart want to shout no, go away before you hurt me again . . . the larger part of your heart, the part that loved Frank enough to take a bullet for him, won. “You may.”
You moved to unlock the door, drawing his attention to the grocery sacks in your hands. He scowled and said, “The docs said no lifting anything above a couple pounds.”
For some reason, this made your blood boil. You glared at him. “That I’m not supposed to pick up the milk jug right now didn’t seem to concern you when you fucking walked out without a goddamn word!”
He grimaced. “You can be pissed at me. You should be. But please, sweetheart, don’t hurt yourself. Let me carry the damn groceries.”
You wanted to argue. The angry, hurt part wanted to insist that you could carry them yourself. That you were fine on your own. That you didn’t help. Especially not from him. But good sense won out. Your injured shoulder was screaming at you, the dull ache growing into something sharp and throbbing over the course of the grocery run.
“Fine,” you said, allowing him to take the bags. You were given the bakery box in exchange. Holding it in your good hand, you let him into your apartment. He refused to let you put anything away, pointing out that even as individual pieces, some of it was still too heavy. You decided not to argue. The idea of raising your arm above your head right now made you want to cry.
Watching him move through your kitchen - the kitchen that you had hoped that he would one day think of as ‘ours’ instead of just ‘yours’ - made the tears prick at your eyes. But you refused to let them fall. Frank had gotten enough tears from you this week.
To distract yourself, you looked into the bakery box he had brought. Inside were two small cakes. One was a blackout cake and the other was chantilly cake with fresh raspberries. You felt your heart skip a beat. You had mentioned that you weren’t sure which cake you wanted for your birthday. You loved both so much. Made a joke about that as soon as you picked one, you’d get a craving for the other one.
An off-hand mention in a conversation from months ago. And he remembered.
More tears pricked at your eyes, torn on what to feel. He remembered. But he had also abandoned you without a word . . .
“I’m sorry.”
You looked up from the cake, startled. “What?”
He was standing by your counter, his shoulders slumped. Regardless, when he realized that you were looking at him, he meet your eyes. You knew him well enough to see the regret, the remorse on his face. In those big brown eyes. “I’ve been an asshole. Leaving you without sayin’ anything - you’re right. That was the coward’s way and it was a rotten thing to do. You didn’t deserve that. I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” you asked. “Why did you do that? I thought we had a good thing going here.”
He took a deep breath. “Because I’m in love with you, and that scares me.”
You could have been knocked over by a feather. He loved you? Truly? “You love me?”
“Yeah,” he said, fidgeting with a can of peas. “Realized it when you were in the hospital.”
“And this scared you?” You said. “Why?”
“Because I almost lost you!” He shouted, his hand squeezing the can of peas. He took a deep breath, visibly regained control of himself. Put down the now-dented can. “You almost died, sweetheart. I felt your pulse getting weaker and weaker . . . You almost died.”
He swallowed thickly, then added, “You noticed the nightmares?”
“Yeah.”
“In my dreams, the ambulance didn’t make it in time. Or you died in surgery. I could see your body, cold and lifeless, along side . . . . Maria. Over and over again.”
He ducked his head. “You almost died. Because of me. Just sheer dumb luck that you didn’t . . . like . . . my family. Baby, I can’t do that again. I can’t. I’m not that strong.”
He might be hiding his face but you could hear the tears in his voice. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t. There’s not enough left of my heart to survive that.”
You couldn’t take it anymore. No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t ignore his pain. You walked over and wrapped your good arm around his waist. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. This close, you could feel him shaking. The rapid pulse in his neck. He really was terrified. Truly terrified. “I’m not dead, Frank. I’m alive.”
“This time,” he muttered in your hair. “Next time-”
“There’s no next time. You wouldn’t lose me.”
“You can’t promise me that,” he said. “I wish to God that you could. But you can’t.”
He was right. You hated that he was right. “Then I’ll be more careful. We’ll both be more careful.”
This time, you shallowed hard. Fighting the lump that wanted to lodge in your throat, “Unless you’d rather not risk it. If you want to leave . . .”
It would break your heart in itty, bitty pieces but you’d let him go if you had to. You couldn’t make someone stay who did not want to stay. Not without destroying everything good between you.
His arms tightened.
“No,” he said, his voice thick. “I don’t want to leave you. I love you. I’m terrified. But I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you said. “I accept your apology.”
You more felt than heard the sigh of relief. “I’m still hurt. We’re going to have a very long talk about it. But I love you and I forgive you.”
“Got some groveling to do, don’t I?” You could hear the smile.
“Yes, you do. But that cake is a good start.”
He laughed. It was watery but genuine.
Things were by no means perfect. But as you said, it was a good start.
Author’s Notes
A blackout cake or Brooklyn Blackout cake is a layer chocolate cake filled with chocolate pudding, frosted in chocolate frost, and topped with chocolate cake crumbs.
A Chantilly cake is a layer cake filled with berries and chantilly cream (a type of sweetened whipped cream), frosted win the same cream and topped with fresh berries in a pretty pattern. In this particular case raspberries but it can be any berries so feel free to imagine different berries.
More Posts from Tunatober and Others
you ever get a comment that makes you want to reread your fic ?? it’s like ‘dang u liked it that much?? lemme go look’
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Threesome🔥
going a bit off script on day 2 because i'm a HEATHEN anyway enjoy
Ship: Worst!Logan Howlett x f!Reader x Wade Wilson
Rating: 18+
Wordcount: 776
Warnings: cursing, smut, threesome, Wade Wilson is his own warning, unprotected PiV, anal (f!receiving), use of petnames, kissing, cocaine mention
Series: Leg's Tuna Tober
Your mind was fucking shattered.
Deep, guttural grunts rumbled from Logan beneath you with every deliberate thrust. Sharp canines scraped along your overheated skin. Whispers of "you're doing so good, baby" filtered from between his clenched teeth. His sweat-drenched skin was nearly sticking to yours due to your proximity. Barely a centimeter of space was left between the two of you.
It didn't help that Wade was on top of you, thrusting into you from behind, bearing his full weight on you as his hands fisted in the sheets. His wet tongue traced down your spine. Shivers erupted across your back in brutal waves.
"That's a good girl. Taking us so well. Isn't she, Wolvie?" Wade mused, voice muffled from where his lips connected with your skin. You gasped as a quick hitch in Wade's thrust nearly jostled Logan out of you.
"Watch it, red," Logan growled quietly. His large palms clung to your hips in near desperation. Gripping at your skin so tight you knew there'd be bruises in the morning. Not that you minded.
A light laugh rumbled against your back, "Feeling possessive, are we, Lo? Afraid I'll take our sunflower away from you?"
"Just shut up and fuck her, will you?" Logan said over your shoulder. He pressed a quick "sorry" behind your ear with a gentle kiss. You couldn't help the quiet moan that leaked from your throat.
"Let's make a game of it, shall we?" was all the warning Wade gave before he suddenly pulled out. You whined at how empty you now felt, craving both of them inside you every waking moment of your life. Wade ran a gentle hand down your back, "Shh, it's alright, angel cakes. I just wanna see if Lo-Lo's up to the task."
"The fuck is wrong with you, Wade?" Logan asked, propping himself up on his elbows to throw the merc a heavy glare. Now no one was focused on fucking you. You muttered obscenities under your breath as you buried your nose in Logan's shoulder. These two couldn't stop bickering for five minutes, let alone a whole night with just the three of you.
"I just wanted to challenge you, Mr.Not-a-Duke. Which of us do you think can make our sunbeam here come the fastest?" Wade offered with a cocky grin you could hear.
Logan scoffed, shaking his head, "I think you already know the answer to that."
"Yeah, and it'd be me," Wade returned.
"You must've taken some brain damage, because you know it'd be me," Logan bit back.
You groaned against Logan's neck, then nipped at the thin skin under his jaw, "Will someone please just fuck me?"
A shudder rolled over Logan's shoulders. He peered down at you through narrowed eyes. You could practically feel the seconds tick by as he remained still, just staring at you. Unease settled around your ribs. Logan was an impossible man to read, even at the best of times. When his pupils were blown, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and his cock was inside you, it was even more difficult to gauge what he was thinking.
"Start a timer," he instructed Wade, gaze never leaving you. Arousal reignited in your abdomen like a stoked bonfire.
"Yes sir," Wade said with a wide smile. You heard rustling behind you as Wade grabbed one of the three phones on the nightstand.
The world spun without warning as you were flipped on your back. A gust of air shot from your lungs at the impact with the bed. Soft lips brushed along the skin under the hinge of your jaw.
"Go easy on me, huh? Wanna prove Wade wrong," Logan whispered in your ear. Flames licked at your skin, goosebumps rising in the wake of the Wolverine's gentle touch. Callused fingers grazed over you as light as feathers.
"I haven't started the timer yet, cheater! Any more unsportsmanlike behavior and I'll lock you out," Wade groused loudly. Logan breathed a chuckle along your collarbone.
"I'll just break the door down," he said as he threw you a wink. It took every bone in your body to keep your eyes from rolling back in your head.
"Break another door and Blind Al'll hide the cocaine again. When she hides shit, that stuff stays gone," Wade mumbled indignantly. Logan ignored the merc, fingers trailing ever-so slowly down your sensitive skin. A choked moan kicked out of your chest when Logan's thigh brushed against your swollen clit. Wade's wrinkled hand entered your periphery as he tapped on Logan's cheek, "Did you hear me, resident senior citizen? No cheating!"
It was going to be a long, long night.
may need to continue this in a future fic...
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Day 5 - Sunlight
Prompts: 5 - Water Gun Fight + 17 - Tickling Character: Michael Kinsella Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Word Count: ~400 Warning: Tooth-rotting fluff, spoilers for Kin Season 1, referenced character death and drug use, past depressed mindset, vague but original child character Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist
Sunlight
It was amazing how much of a difference a few years makes.
If someone had told Michael Kinsella five years ago what his future held, he wouldn’t have believed them. At best he would regarded such predictions as the product of a diseased mind. At worse, a cruel joke.
Because, five years ago today, Michael wasn’t certain that he was going to survive the rest of the year.
Soon or later, if enough people were determined to kill him, one of them would succeed eventually. He’d make a mistake. Or he’d stop fighting. After all, what did he have to live for? His wife was dead. Jaime, the son he had never allowed to be anything other than Uncle Mikey to, was dead. Anna hated him. Everyone watched him with fear or disgust in their eyes. Including his own family at times.
Everyone seemed intent on pulling him back into that quagmire of crime and violence. Just like when he was kid desperately trying to escape that sucking pit, everyone turned their backs. Left him to drown in darkness and pain. Only this time, he couldn’t even numb himself to it with drugs and booze without making the seizures worse.
Not since it had first snapped shut on him at sixteen had the jaws of this trap hurt so bad.
Five years ago, Michael didn’t know that his impulsive decision to keep walking instead turning left toward his cold, empty house would change everything. Or that downpour would have him ducking into a little shop where he’d meet you, the love of his life.
Now he came home to a home filled with warmth and people who loved him. A life where his hands were used to create beauty instead of misery. Or to tickle his child until the little one’s delighted peels of laughter were the only thing he could hear.
Five years ago, Michael was condemned to be a bloody shadow stalking the twilight streets, a bringer of fear and death.
Today, he ran across the sunlight garden armed with a little green water pistol. The only thing he had to fear was Anna nailing him with another water ballon.
Or his toddler, with the giggling assistance of his pretty wife, ambushing him from behind the tree with the garden hose. While he fought for control of the hose, Anna started lobbing balloons at all of them. She had impeccable aim. Not that this saved her from the wrath of her younger sibling.
Needless to say, when it was time to go inside, everyone was thoroughly soaked.
And Michael couldn’t be happier.
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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: BROKEN + SELF-LOATHING + SCARS🐟✨
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Day 3 - Broken
Prompt: 3 - Broken + 5 - Self-Loathing + 18 - Scars Character: Sam Winchester Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader Word Count: 505 Warnings: Self-loathing, negative self-talk, referenced injury Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland Tuna-Tober Masterlist 2024
Broken
Sam Winchester slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake you. Just because he was too broken to sleep properly didn’t mean you should be deprived of sleep. Especially not for him. You had already given up too much for him.
He still didn’t understand it. Why had you give up your safe, normal life for him? To risk your life hunting monsters for people who would never know or understand your sacrififce. Who would deny all the blood shed in their name. To endure the estrangement of your family and old friends just to join him and Dean on this cursed road. Why?
He understood why Dean did it. He was just as cursed as Sam. There was no escaping this road. Not for them. They had both tried. And Dean was his big brother. He had always tried to protect him. No matter how tired or angry with him that Dean was - and times he had been very much both of those things - he’d never leave Sam to face the world’s evil alone.
Not you. You could have that apple pie life. You could live in a beautiful little house filled with the books and plants that you loved. Not a musty old bunker between a series of cheap hotels. You could have a boyfriend who wasn’t broken. Someone with a real job that could take you out on nice dates. Not a monster who dragged you into the shadows and made you bleed.
It might not be his own two hands that hurt you but it was his fault. You’d never gotten those scars if you had never met him. The obvious ones like the claw marks across your back. But also the invisible ones, the wounds left in the soul by fear and devastating loss.
Without him . . . you’d be safe. Whole. Happy. In love with someone who could put a pretty ring on your finger without fear. Instead of someone who feared putting an even bigger target on your back. Who couldn’t even ask you if you wanted children because he was too terrified of the answer.
You deserved better. Someone worthy of your love. Not a tattered patchwork of a man covered in scars visible and invisible.
But one of his numerous flaws that he was selfish. So when your arms wrapped around him, he couldn’t push you away. He was too greedy to reject the comfort of your body against his. He craved your affection, the pretty words you told him (I’m here . . . I’ve got you, Sammy . . . I love you . . . you’re a good man, Sam Winchester. I know you don’t want to believe me but you are . . .)
He wanted you to be right. He wished he had your faith that one day, he’d believe those words. He wanted that so badly. It would be so easy to give in.
But Sam was done lying to himself. You deserved better than him. And while he was too selfish to give you up, he was never going to forget that.
Author's Note
This is my first time writing Sam so please let me know what you think.
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I'm Not Good Enough🌧️
this movie was fucking ADORABLE i love it so much
Ship: Charlie Denton x gn!Reader
Rating: 13+
Wordcount: 994
Warnings: angst, alcohol, self-doubt, anxiety
Series: Leg's Tuna Tober
Chilled beer flowed past your lips as you drank from the green bottle. The fizz tickled at the back of your nose, bitter and biting, before gliding down your throat. Condensation clung to the glass and wetted your palms.
The digital clock on the end table to your left read "10:23pm," almost half an hour since Max had gone to bed. He would undoubtedly still be awake. That little trouble maker was always working on Atom, reading a booklet on robot boxing, or sketching away at his next big project. His mind never seemed to stop swirling inside his 10-year-old head.
You supposed he got that whirlwind of a brain from his father. Charlie was always two steps away from a nervous breakdown. Anxiety riddled his tired mind on an hourly basis. He'd constantly look to you for reassurance, whether it was about his parenting, his career, or simply how he treated you as a partner.
He sat to your right on the brown leather couch. Twin bottle of beer to your own clutched in his hand, body practically melted into the sofa, head resting back on the cushions with his eyes firmly shut. Wrinkles cracked his tanned skin in the corners of his eyes and the space between his furrowed brows.
"Doing okay?" you asked as quietly as you could, scared to break the uneasy silence that had settled ever since Max was sent to bed. The air in the cluttered living room was heavy with an unidentifiable unease.
Charlie shrugged as his hazel eyes fell open, "Usual bullshit. Don't worry 'bout me."
You sighed as you set your beer on the end table. An array of rings were stained into the light wood from countless nights spent drinking on the couch. Leather creaked under the weight of you shifting to face Charlie.
"I'm always worried about you, hon. What's going on?" you insisted with a gentle prod against his shoulder. He grunted at the poke, lazily swatting your hand away.
"Don't wanna bother you. Forget it," he muttered. Further worry lines creased along his face as he took a long drag from his beer bottle. His Adam's apple bobbed with each thick swallow.
A sigh blew from your pursed lips in a thin stream. Dating someone as anxiety-ridden as Charlie had its challenges. You tried your best to navigate through the raging tempest inside his mind, course-correcting his lost ship along the choppy waves, keeping him from sinking to the ocean floor.
Some days were easier than others. That metric ton of stress that weighed on his mind seemed to lighten, his smile wider, more energy spilling from his bright, hazel eyes. He'd be more willing to practice with Atom on the robot's boxing combinations or to guide Max through verbal commands.
Today was not one of those days.
"How about you tell me the first thought that pops in your head and we leave it at that?" you offered with a kind smile. Seeing your partner like this drove a grief-lined spear through your heart every time. Forced to watch as this extraordinary man folded in on himself, reduced to barely half of his size, as he wallowed in his racing heart and clouded brain.
Charlie considered your proposition for a few moments. He tilted his head back and forth, stretching the tense muscles lining his broad neck.
"Alright," he finally said. You sat up straighter amongst the couch cushions. Focus fully fixed on the man beside you, chin resting in your palm and eyes passing between each of his. He sighed, clearly uncomfortable with your undivided attention, then mumbled, "I feel like I'm not good enough. For Max... And for you."
You kept your expression neutral as his words slammed into your stomach like a sack of bricks. Swallowing the lump that'd gathered in your throat, you said, "What makes you think that?"
"I'm always like this. Always caught up in my own head, not giving both of you the attention that you need. That you deserve," Charlie nearly rambled, voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled from him like stones dipped in sorrow.
"Both Max and I know that you have your quirks," you began in a joking manner, attempting to lighten the dreary mood, "No one's perfect, Charlie. No one expects you to be at 110% every single day. You're not one of our robots, you're a human. And a great father, at that. I see the way Max looks at you. That kid loves you so damn much. He's a smart kid, he understands what you're going through. Guess what? Doesn't make him love you any less."
The brief speech seemed to settle on Charlie's shoulders like thick snow. His breath shuddered, lower lip quivering, as he screwed his eyes shut, "Do you mean that?"
"Of course I do, hon. We both love you," you said softly while running a hand through his buzzed hair. The short strands tickled at the skin between your fingers.
He threw you off kilter as large arms enveloped you in a tight embrace. His pointed nose buried in your hair, beer long forgotten on the floor, arms squeezing you so tight you couldn't even dream of escaping. Not that you wanted to.
You were quick to return the hug, hands locking behind Charlie's back. Gentle hums leaked from your closed lips as you rested your chin on his shoulder. A little off-key, not quite matching the song you and Charlie had claimed as your own, but it comforted him nonetheless. He settled in your arms like a deflated balloon.
Anxiety is not an easy thing to deal with. It wracks one's mind with endless worry and near-paranoia at times. Makes one's heart race, their skin itching like it's on fire, stomach tying itself in knots. One day you'd get Charlie to see a therapist. Until then, you'd continue plotting his course through the hurricane and into your open arms.
screaming crying throwing up etc.
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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨
✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Self-Loathing + “Shh, I’ve got you now. I’m here.” + Nightmare + Shaking + “You can sleep here tonight” 🐟✨
✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨
Help Me
Description: John had overstepped. He runs to Slash and his family to safety.
Relationships: Axl Rose x Slash
Prompts: Self-Loathing (Day 5), “Shh, I’ve got you now. I’m here.” (Day 6), Nightmare (Day 7), Shaking, “You can sleep here tonight” (Day 8)
Part 4 of “You’re My Red Rose”
⚠️WARNING⚠️: MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE, MENTIONS OF CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Axl ran, holding Mia in his arms. John was not far behind him. He had came home drunker than a skunk. In an intoxicated haze, he started touching on Mia while they were sleeping. Axl had woken up before he had gotten too far thankfully. After a short fight, he grabbed Mia and stormed out of the door. His target was to go for the woods behind the trailer to attempt to lose him. It worked. John had slowed down when he had gotten deeper into the wall of trees.
He adjusted Mia in his arms, not wanting to put her down on the grass because she was barefoot. Axl pressed his forehead against the little girl’s forehead, relieved they’re safe for now. He had no idea where he was going to go. In need of a break, he sat on a large rock with Mia on his lap.
“Please don’t take me back, Billy,” Mia begged, tearing up.
Axl kissed her cheek. “I won’t. I just need to figure out where to go. We can’t stay here all night.”
They didn’t have any nearby family members as pretty much his mother’s entire family disowned her after she got pregnant with him. Axl dug in his pocket. He only had $25. That was not enough for a room at a hotel or motel. It’d be different if it was just him, but it wasn’t. There was no way he was going to let Mia sleep on the streets.
The only other person who he thought would take them in was Slash. He didn’t want to bother him and his family this late at night, but there was no choice. This was an emergency.
Surprisingly, music blared through the walls of Slash’s and his parents’ house. He hesitated a little before knocking on the door. A woman with dark skin answered the door. It was his mother, Kadejah, . This was a really bad first impression.
“Axl? What are you doing here so late at night?” She asked, placing her hand over chest in concern. “Aren’t your parents going to be worried?”
“My family is who I’m running from. My stepfather was assaulting her while we slept so I took her and ran,” Axl explained.
Kadejah let them in. His father, Jerry, was sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. She quickly explained the situation to him. It took some convincing, but he eventually agreed to let them stay. Axl set Mia down on the hardwood floor. Kadejah ordered Jerry to go wake up Slash. Mia squeezed onto his leg.
“Are y’all hungry? I still have some leftovers from dinner?” Kadejah asked.
“No, ma’am,” Axl responded. He looked down at Mia. “Are you hungry, Dimples?”
Mia shook her head no.
Jerry returned with a tired Slash. His eyes widened at the sight of Axl and his little sister.
“Something went down at Axl’s home so him and his little sister will be staying here until the meantime if that’s alright with you?” said Kadejah.
Slash nodded. “Sure, sure. He can stay here.”
“Okay. I’ll get the extra bedroom ready for Mia. Axl can sleep in the room with you.”
Slash held his hand as he guided him to his bedroom. When he closed the door behind them, Axl felt his knees buckle. Before his knees could hit the floor, Slash caught him. Axl cried into his shirt. Having to fend for himself and Mia all the time, it was tiring. He wished he lived a normal life. He wanted to go to prom. He wanted to have birthday parties. He wanted to go on vacations. Instead, he was fighting uphill battles everyday to survive.
It made him feel insignificant. Why did he have to be so damn scary? He could go to the police. There was enough evidence on both his and Mia’s bodies that could send John to jail for years.
“I couldn’t protect her. I let him touch her.” Axl cried, holding onto Slash tightly.
Slash brushed his ginger hair. “Shh, I’ve got you now. I’m here. Mia’s safe. You’re safe.”
They got into Slash’s bed. Axl was still holding onto him. Slash hummed soothingly. He fought to go to sleep. It took him an hour to achieve that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slash was in a deep sleep when loud cries woke him up. He looked to the right of him where the cries were coming from. Axl had his arms crossed around his torso. His whole body was shaking and his face was scrunched up.
“Please don’t hurt me. I-I didn’t do anything.” Axl began to kick the air with his feet.
He was having a nightmare. Slash shook him awake while reminding him that he was okay. Axl woke up, struggling to catch his breath. Sweat covered every inch of his body. Slash pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. Axl breathed a sigh of relief when he realized where he was.
“I won’t let that bastard hurt you again,” he whispered, kissing the top of his head.
Axl lifted up out of the embrace. He caressed his cheek and kissed him passionately on the lips.
“Thank you, Slash. I-I love you,” Axl said.
Slash pecked his nose. “I love you, too.”
✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨
✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨
✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: FALLING ASLEEP IN A HOSPITAL ROOM 🐟✨
✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨
Tuna-Tober Day One - Falling Asleep in a Hospital Room - Spencer Reid
pairing: Spencer Reid x wife!pregnant!reader
prompt: falling asleep in a hospital room
word count: 2,034
content: hospital setting - mentions of IV lines, ventilators, lacerations, stitches, and broken bones; mention of motor vehicle accident
dividers by: @tunatober
The music playing from your phone stopped abruptly as an incoming call from an unknown number began ringing you. Sliding the bar over to answer, you placed the phone between your shoulder and ear as you continued chopping vegetables. “Hello?”
You were greeted by your name being quietly spoken by a familiar voice, who added, “It’s Emily. I’m calling to tell you that something happened with Spencer. He’s in the hospital right now and-”
The sharp knife in your hand nearly slipped as her words rang in your ears. You placed the knife down on the cutting board and tried to take a calming breath before asking, “What happened?” You were hoping that your husband would be done with the case in enough time to make it home for dinner, but now, clearly that wouldn’t be happening.
“He’s in the operating room right now and then they’re taking him to the ICU. The car he was in got hit by the unsub,” Emily informed you quietly, keeping her tone neutral for your sake. She took a deep breath before telling you, “He flipped a few times and they needed to use the jaws of life to get him out. That’s all I know for now. I’ll keep you updated on when-”
“What hospital is he in?” Emily said your name exasperatedly before you asked in a firmer tone, “What hospital is he in?” She sighed before telling you the name of the hospital, but not before once again attempting to keep you at home in order to keep your stress levels down.
When you hung up the call, you leaned heavily onto the counter as tears began to fall from your eyes and emotion threatened to close your throat. Shallow breaths were all you could manage as your mind flitted through the worst case scenarios of the outcome of this hospital visit… It took a few minutes, but you finally gathered yourself enough to safely make the trip to the hospital Emily said Spencer had been taken to.
Your worry had started to ramp up again as you quickly made your way into the hospital and navigated to the entrance of the ICU where you hit the button to speak with the nurses at the station. Your hands fidgeted with the strap of your purse as you waited, and you jumped when the voice finally crackled though, asking, “How may I help you?”
“I-I’m here to see Spencer Reid. He was in a car accident? I was told he would be here after he got out of surgery.”
There was a long pause before the woman on the other side said, “He already has more than the max number of guests at the bedside, you can-”
“I’m his wife! Please!” you pleaded in desperation, your voice breaking with renewed emotion at the thought of being denied access to see him.
Another long pause filled the air before you heard the locks on the doors give way and open to give you access into the ICU. As you wandered past the nurses’ station, you heard the same voice from before call out, “Mrs. Reid?” When you turned your attention toward her, she told you, “He’s in bed 18, right this way.”
On the way to the hospital, you imagined many different reasons for Spencer to end up in the ICU after a car accident, but the one you didn’t imagine was him being on a ventilator, having a machine breathe for him. There were tubes and IV lines everywhere and the sight of Spencer’s battered body made your knees give out under you. “Woah!” the nurse walking you yelped as she grabbed you under the arm to try and keep you from falling to the ground.
Your name was called before another set of hands was under your other arm and their owner helped you stand. “I’ve got her,” said Luke as he wrapped an arm around you to keep you steady. “JJ, get her a chair.”
JJ turned toward the two of you and nodded, grabbing a rolling chair from nearby and pushing it behind you so you could sit. Without anyone even saying anything, the small crowd of BAU agents parted as Luke rolled you up to the bedside so you could be beside Spencer. “What happened?” you whispered as you grasped Spencer’s hand in your own and held on tightly.
Right as you asked this, a doctor walked into the small room and said, “During the crash, his airway became compromised and a lung collapsed. He also sustained a few broken bones. Fractured left tibia and fibula as well as a dislocated left shoulder. There was a large laceration across his abdomen that we stitched up in the OR. He’s lucky to be alive. We’re going to keep a close eye on his case and hope that he can come out on the other side of this with minimal long term complications.”
“Oh my God…” you whispered, practically collapsing against the railing of the bed as a fresh bath of tears cascaded from your eyes.
“He’s gonna pull through, he’s strong,” Emily said as she put a comforting hand on your shoulder. She cleared her throat before telling the team, “Let’s give them some space, everyone.”
A kiss was placed on your temple by David before he wrapped you in a hug, telling you, “Call if you need anything, okay? We’ll be nearby.”
When they were gone and you were alone with Spencer, you sat and held his hand for a few minutes, only the beeping of machines and your quiet sobs breaking the silence. When you felt like you ran out of tears, you lowered the railing on the bed and raised the chair you were sitting in. Scooting closer to the bed, you took Spencer’s hand and placed it on your swollen belly, holding his hand there as you whispered, “I really need you to pull through this, Spence. You need to be here when our little girl gets here. I can’t do this without you…”
The stress of the situation combined with the hour drive to get to the hospital had you nodding off in the chair soon enough. By the time visiting hours were over, the nurse came into the room to inform you, but just couldn’t bring herself to wake you. She made her way to the blanket warmer and got a blanket to drape over you before ordering a cot to be brought to the room for when you stirred from your sleep at some point.
The next morning you startled awake when you heard a pair of voices in the room. Blinking hard, you adjusted your eyes to your surroundings and saw Tara and Penelope in the room, both fussing over gifts they brought. Tara held a handful of balloons in her hand as well as a stuffed bear, and in Penelope’s there was a vase of flowers and another stuffed animal stuffed under her arm that you couldn’t tell what it was…
“Good morning,” came Tara’s voice as she made her way over to you, picking up a cup from the table and bringing it over to you. “Hot chocolate. Extra chocolate, and whipped cream on top.”
“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the warm drink and held it in your hands. Spencer must’ve told them your order at some point… The thought brought tears to your eyes.
The tears fell when Penelope shuffled over and wrapped you in a hug as she whispered, “This sucks so much…”
“Yeah…” you whispered, your voice scratchy and breaking as you spoke.
When she pulled away, she pushed the mysterious stuffed animal into your hands. Looking down, you realized it was a capybara. Penelope cleared her throat before saying, “Spencer says that you remind him of a capybara with how kind you are and how you take in and take care of anyone who needs it.”
“Damnit, Penny!” you whispered, your voice pitched up as you took the stuffed animal into your arms and held onto it like a lifeline.
“I’m sorry! I just saw it in the gift shop and couldn’t help it!” she said, frantically reaching into her purse for a tissue to give to you.
Tara had to take off before Penelope so she could work the case, but Penelope stayed for a bit after to keep you company until she was needed. Her positive attitude and words attempted to keep your mind off the horrible reality that you found yourself in.
You spent the day at Spencer’s bedside and only left when you realized how tired and sore you were from sleeping in the chair and then the uncomfortable cot. Penelope offered her guest room to you, and surprised you with your pregnancy pillow on the bed after a hot meal of pizza and warm mug of hot chocolate to end the night.
Every night for the next week you stayed at Penelope’s place after visiting Spencer in the hospital. She worked from home as much as she could so that you weren’t alone, and by the end of the week, the unsub was brought to justice, not only for his crimes against the people he killed, but also for what he did to Spencer. Penelope joined you as you made your way to the hospital to tell Spencer that the team had caught the guy. The nurses had been telling you that even under sedation, some people can hear and remember what was happening around them, and you were sure that would be the case for Spencer.
Penelope was armed with yet another get well soon card, and you had a bag of Spencer’s favorite coffee in hand as an incentive for him to wake up soon. When you neared room 18, you saw a large team of medical workers walking away and your heart instantly kicked up, pounding in your ears as you made your way over to the room which had the curtain drawn. As you pulled back the curtain, you were met with a sight that brought tears to your eyes. Spencer was off of the ventilator! “Oh my God, Spence!” you whispered, your hand covering your mouth as you dropped the coffee and rushed over to his bedside.
“Hey,” Spencer said, his voice hoarse from lack of use over the last week.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! You’re awake!” Penelope said hurriedly. She rushed over and kissed the top of Spencer’s head before saying, “I’ll give you two some time together and go tell the team! I love you two, and I’ll be back soon!”
“Love you too, Penny,” you replied before turning your attention back to Spencer.
“Thank you,” you whispered as you gently nuzzled yourself into the crook of Spencer’s neck.
“For what?” he asked as he wrapped his right arm around you.
“For coming back to us,” you told him, pulling away and guiding his hand to your bump.
“I’ll always come back to you,” he said, a fond smile on his face as he gazed at your growing belly and then up to your face. “You know…” he started, his voice wobbly with emotion. “When the car was hit, all I could think about while it was flipping was you and our little girl. How I couldn’t leave the two of you here alone. So before everything went black, I told myself that I needed to fight to get better. I knew that if the worst did happen, the team would support you through it all, but… I’m so happy it didn’t have to come to that. I love you both. So much.”
“I love you too, Spence,” you whispered before leaning over to give him a gentle kiss. “Once you get out, no more hospital stays ‘til she’s here, got it?”
Spencer chuckled before nodding and telling you, “Got it.”
And he kept that promise. After he was released, the next time the two of you fell asleep in a hospital room was after the birth of your baby girl and you were so grateful for the better circumstances for the stay.
and that is Tuna-Tober Day One done! enjoy!
ps: how freaking cute is Spence in that gif?? i love him!
likes and comments are always appreciated! xo, brooke <3
taglist: @reidmarieprentiss
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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨
✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "This isn't you." 🐟✨
✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨
Tuna-Tober Day 4 - Bucky Barnes
pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x fem!Reader
prompt: "This isn't you."
word count: 1,127
content: dead dove, angst, gun use, main character death. There is no happy ending. Hurt, no comfort. Read at your own risk. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
You stood in front of the lab hood that held a new piece of espionage tech that you had started working on a few months ago. It was in the final stages and just needed a few more adjustments before it was ready to be tested by Peggy. She was the only one you would trust to test the quality of your invention. Since you were recruited to work at SHIELD at its inception, you had worked on many projects alongside Howard Stark, but this one was one of the first that you worked on completely by yourself, and it was arguably your finest invention.
Heading to grab your notebook off of your desk to jot down some more notes for Peggy to use once she was testing it, you heard a ruckus down the hall and what sounded like gunshots. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you started creeping toward the wall, but just as you did, a hand reached out and pulled your heel out from under you!
You tumbled to the ground and grabbed for the small weapon hidden in your skirt’s pocket before realizing that the person who had pulled you down was Howard. “What did you do that for?!” you whisper-shouted at him as he held a finger to his mouth to hush you.
“Whoever that is, is after you!” Howard told you in a hushed tone with wide eyes.
“What do you mean after me? For what?” you asked, feeling your heart begin to pound in your chest.
“I don’t know! Someone called my desk and all I could hear was the background of the call. Whoever it is was asking about where to find you!” he told you. Scrambling up onto unsteady feet, Howard started ushering you toward the back of the lab, saying, “We need to get you out of here! If we go out here and into the-”
Before he could finish his sentence, the main door to the lab burst open and revealed a man with overgrown hair and a black mask covering the lower half of his face. He wore what looked like old military tactical gear that had one sleeve ripped off to reveal a silver metal arm with a red star on it. And held in the hand of that silver arm was a gun that was pointed right at you. “Get outta the way!” Howard shouted while roughly pulling you out of the bullet’s path as the man pulled the trigger. “What do you want with her?” he asked sharply as he stood with an arm in front of you protectively.
The man didn’t say anything, only made his way directly to your desk and grabbed your notebook off of the wooden surface. While he surveyed the desk’s contents though, a framed picture caught his eye and he hesitated as he brought the book closer to himself. You noticed this slight hesitation and furrowed your eyebrows, thinking to yourself, That was odd…
As the man in the mask looked up and made eye contact with you though, you realized why he hesitated. You knew those blue eyes anywhere. “Bucky?” you whispered, a tremor in your voice as you were forced to come to the realization that the man in front of you who shot at you only moments before was the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. The man who you were told was dead. The man who was featured in that framed picture on your desk. It was taken at the Stark Expo before he was shipped off to fight in the war. You were both beaming at the camera and had your whole lives ahead of you. But everything changed when he went to fight for the country.
“My name’s not Bucky,” the man responded instantly, a coldness in his tone that you only ever heard him speak about Steve’s father in.
“That…that’s the Winter Soldier…” Howard whispered as he pulled on the fabric of your blazer to try and get you to move away from the threat in front of you. You had heard of the assassin before, of course. He was credited with the killings of some of the best minds in the intelligence community. And now he was after you… Your blazer was tugged at harder as Howard said in a firmer tone, “We gotta go! Now!”
You stood frozen to the ground though as you held eye contact with the assassin in front of you. “Howard… It’s him. It’s Bucky…” you said breathlessly.
There was another sharp tug as Howard snapped, “That is not Bucky! He is here to kill you!”
Ignoring your friend’s pleas, you slowly put your hands in the air before taking a cautious step toward the masked man. “This isn’t you,” you told him. Nodding your head toward the picture, you said, “That is you. James Buchanan Barnes.” A sad smile made its way onto your face and a tear escaped your eye as you continued. “The real you is the man who was gonna marry me, remember? We had a venue picked out and everything. You were gonna get Steve to officiate. We were gonna move to the suburbs and have a white picket fence once the war was over. Three kids and a couple of pets. We were gonna have a long and happy life together, Sugar.”
A quiet sob left your mouth as you grappled once more with the fact that your life turned out nothing like you expected. Howard whispered your name in warning, but you ignored him again and held your gaze with the man in front of you as you finished with, “That man is still in that handsome head of yours. I saw your hesitation when you looked at that photo. Now please, put down the gun. We can try to help you. Please. You’re the love of my life, Bucky. I can’t lose you again.”
As you finished your plea, something was spoken into a piece of technology he had in his ear and his eyes shifted from the comforting blue that felt like home to something as cold as ice before he said, “You’re my mission.”
A single gunshot rang out and you dropped to the floor in a lifeless heap, blood pooling under your body in an instant. Howard let out a scream in horror as he rushed to your side. Without an ounce of remorse in his body language, the Winter Soldier sauntered over to your lab hood and grabbed what he came for. To the soldier, you were simply another target he was assigned by HYDRA. But deep in his mind, to Bucky, you were his world. And you were dead because of him.
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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨
✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Overstimulation🐟✨
✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨
Tuna-Tober Day 8 - Matt Murdock
pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader
prompt: Overstimulation
word count: 2,600
content: established relationship, light drinking, public sex toy use, public orgasms, language, overstimulation, unprotected piv sex (at home), aftercare. 18+ MINORS DNI!
tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Matt asked, flipping the slender remote in his hand as you pulled on the underwear that would be controlled by the device. He had gotten you the garment for your anniversary a few days prior, and you weren’t sure of the setting he wanted to use them in. Until tonight.
“It’ll be fun,” you told him, a nervous smile on your lips that he could tell wasn’t completely genuine.
“But are you okay with it?” Matt rephrased his question, wanting a straight answer before you both exited the apartment. “It was my idea, so I need to know if you’re on board. I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”
Taking a deep breath, you attempted to blow away your nerves as you nodded. “I’m okay with it.”
By the steady beat of your heart, Matt knew you were telling the truth. So he smiled and pocketed the remote, but not before giving you an experimental buzz with the toy. When you let out the quietest of moans that he knew only he could hear, a cocky smirk lined his lips as he left you to finish getting ready.
The conversation with Matt as the two of you were getting ready to go out to Josie's was fresh on your mind as you sat in the booth in tense anticipation for what was to come. You were in the corner of the booth, Matt sitting with his thigh pressed against yours, and Karen right across from you. Foggy had just shown up with Marci on his arm and the four of them were engaged in their typical work conversations for the first little bit of the gathering while you were stuck in your head picturing what Matt would be doing to you…who knew when?
As the three others became engrossed in their own conversation, Matt leaned over and mumbled into your ear, “You’re getting yourself worked up and I haven’t even turned them on, Angel.” Angel. Matt only called you that when he got rough in the bedroom. Just hearing him say that caused a shiver to run down your spine and you felt more heat pooling between your thighs. You started to cross your legs to relieve some of the tension, but let out a quiet gasp when you suddenly felt a soft vibration fluttering against your clit. The hand not controlling the little remote landed on your thigh and massaged it gently as Matt whispered in a husky tone, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”
When he said that, the vibrations got a little stronger, and you felt your heart rate increase in response. The grip you had on your drink glass tightened as your hands began to shake as a sudden feeling of anxiety flooded the forefront of your mind. And just like that the vibrations stopped. “Matt, what-?” you started quietly.
“Your cortisol levels just shot through the roof. Something’s wrong. I’m not continuing if you aren’t comfortable with this, I told you that,” he replied, a more gentle tone taking over for the moment.
Throwing a look over to Karen, Foggy, and Marci, you whispered, “I’m just afraid of them catching us, is all… What if they hear it? What if they hear me?”
“None of them reacted when I turned it on,” Matt assured you. That goddamn smirk made its way back onto his lips as he added, “I can turn it on the highest setting and we can see if they notice. Would that make you feel better?”
Your breath hitched in your throat for a second in response to the proposition. You were at an impasse. While turning it to the highest setting would prove whether or not the others could hear the vibrations, you ran the risk of them hearing it and asking questions. It felt like something you would never be able to live down. It felt like something illegal. Public indecency at the least. But Matt wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t sure it was okay…
With that last thought in mind, you nodded. And nothing could have prepared you for the feeling that took over your body in the seconds that followed. As you nearly doubled over when the intense vibrations assaulted your clit, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning. Loudly. You had used toys before, sure, but it had been a while because Matt always took care of you without them. You had long since forgotten how easily vibrators worked you up and how they could make that coil tighten in your abdomen nearly as fast as Matt could.
When he heard how your body reacted to the vibrator, Matt nearly forgot that he was supposed to be gauging if the others could hear it over the music and conversation that made up the atmosphere of Josie’s. Tearing his attention away from your body, Matt tuned into his friends and the air around them to see if there was even a nearly imperceptible movement of their heads that would indicate that they heard what was happening on the other side of the table. He waited a few seconds before he was satisfied that the three of them were still completely oblivious.
Raising his beer bottle in response to something they just said, Matt kept up the charade that he wasn’t becoming more turned on by the second as he listened to you. The sound of your growing arousal was loud in his ears, and every little shift of your hips only had his jeans tightening more. He could practically feel the restraint you were holding yourself with as you attempted to keep your breathing even, but the little sighs of pleasure escaping your lips were becoming more frequent as time wore on, and it was getting difficult to hold himself back from you.
Matt nearly moaned when he merely placed his hand on your thigh and you suddenly tensed up, grasping the edge of the booth as your breath caught in your throat. Before the moan climbing up your throat could escape and end this whole thing, Matt leaned into you and closed his mouth over yours in a passionate kiss as waves upon waves of pleasure crashed over you as you came. One hand snaked around to the back of his neck and held him close as he kissed you, not only so he could continue his ministrations, but so you could whimper his name like a prayer onto his lips where the others couldn’t see.
“Woah you two, save that for the bedroom!” Foggy said with a chuckle when Matt finally pulled away as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm.
Matt cleared his throat before asking, “Can a man not kiss his girlfriend anymore?”
“You weren’t kissing her, you were eating her face,” Foggy pointed out before walking back to the bar for another round of drinks.
“Have you two done anything for your anniversary yet?” Karen asked with a sparkle in her eye. “Five years, that’s a big deal!”
When Matt didn’t answer immediately nor turn down the setting on the vibrator, you swallowed hard before telling her, “N-not yet. Not exactly. Waiting for the weekend.”
“Ooh, reservations for somewhere, I hope, Matt?” Marci asked, a well-kept eyebrow raising up into her forehead.
“Yes, actually. Although I can’t remember the name of the restaurant right now,” Matt fibbed, his tone of voice almost teasing as he asked if you remembered the name of the place.
“B-babbo Ris-torante. In Gr-eenwich,” you supplied, reaching for Matt’s thigh as you tried to ground yourself and keep your voice steady as your core continued to throb under the ministrations of the toy.
“Are you okay?” Karen asked, her head tilting slightly as she studied your flushed face.
“Y-yeah, just something caught in my throat,” you lied, selling it further by taking a long drag of the beer pushed your way as Foggy returned with the drinks.
Luckily the conversation moved on quickly to talk of…something. You couldn’t pay attention to anything except the pleasure beginning to mount in your core again. “Stop that,” came Matt’s husky voice as he leaned over to pretend to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. It was only then that you realized that you had started to grind your hips into the booth so you could chase the high that was threatening to wash over you again any second.
Snapping your eyes out of their trance, you looked over to Matt and realized that he was shifting uncomfortably in the booth, his legs spread wider than he normally would before stilling into a stiff posture. Glancing down, you saw just how aroused he was, the outline of his hard cock in his jeans making you picture what you were in for once you got back home. “Ma-att,” you whispered as you ground your hips into the booth once more before the coil in your abdomen abruptly snapped. One hand found the edge of the booth once more as the other wrapped around Matt’s back as your second orgasm of the night ripped through you, somehow more intense than the first one. Burying your face into Matt’s shoulder, you tried to keep your moans quiet as your body continued grinding into the seat to drag out the feeling for as long as possible.
“Fuck it, we’re leaving,” Matt practically growled as he tasted the fresh round of your arousal in the air. It was almost enough to make him come undone then and there. He made up some excuse about having a headache before pulling you out of the booth and close to his front so he could at least try to hide his painfully hard erection from his friends. “Need to get you home. Need you,” he said as you feigned guiding him out of the bar without his cane unfolded.
Truth be told, you were barely able to walk after two mind shattering orgasms and the continuing vibrations against your clit. Matt called a quick goodbye to Josie before the two of you were out in the less stale air of New York City. You barely made it ten feet before Matt was pulling you into an alleyway and kissing you like his life depended on it. With a slight smirk on your lips, you hooked one leg around the back of his knee and pulled Matt’s hips into yours, grinding into him for a brief second. That second was all it took for him to come undone, letting out an unexpected moan as he rutted his hips into yours as he came. Pleasure sparked through his whole body as he buried his face into your neck and left open mouthed kisses there as he worked through the aftershocks of his own orgasm. “Fuck…” he whispered as his movements stilled a few seconds later. “Need to get you home, Angel. Now.”
“Wha-” you tried, thinking that what had just happened was the end of the sexcapades for the night. That he had gotten his fill after giving you two and having one himself before you even really touched him.
“We’re not done until I say we’re done. I need to taste you. I need to feel you. I need to fuck you,” he said, heated kisses punctuating every sentence.
“Lead the way then,” you told him, a giggle leaving your mouth that was replaced by a quiet moan as the settings on the underwear changed to where it would start off at a low rumble before building up into a delicious vibration. When it hit its peak as you rounded the corner, your knees almost gave out, and you grabbed at the front belt loop of your jeans - whether you meant for it to be as a lifeline or as a means of bringing the toy closer, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you could barely walk and your third orgasm was already building.
Matt made quick work of getting you home, pulling you into the entry hall and slamming his lips into yours as soon as he shut the door. Your jeans were off within seconds and the panties were ripped away and replaced by Matt’s skilled fingers. As he pumped them quickly into you, finding that special spot within your walls, you moaned loudly, the sound shortly followed by a grunt of your name as Matt rutted his hips into your thigh.
Only once you had your third orgasm not even a minute later did Matt move the two of you toward the bedroom. When he had you out of your clothes and laid out on the silk sheets, Matt’s mouth was on your heat, lapping and sucking like a man starved. The vibration of his grunts and groans had you writhing which prompted Matt to hold your hips down as he pulled yet another orgasm out of you.
The transition between Matt eating you out and him fucking you fast and hard was quick to your muddied brain, and it was all you could do to just hold on to his broad shoulders as he thrusted into you.
The pleasure was insurmountable and all encompassing. There was a slightly painful edge to the feeling, and a little voice inside your head was whispering too much. You couldn’t get your brain to form coherent words though, only able to let out a wanton moan into the quiet of the apartment. You weren’t even sure what happened next as your entire body suddenly flooded with a warm flush and your vision went white. Your hearing turned into a sharp ringing sound that was so loud that you barely registered Matt’s call of your name as he came inside of you.
Matt knew there was something wrong the second your arms sagged off of his shoulders and your head lulled back into the pillow without your usual final kiss before he pulled out of you. With his chest heaving still, Matt fell onto his back and pulled you close, running his hand up and down your bare back as he whispered into your hair, “Come on, sweet girl. Come back to me.”
It took a few minutes, but you finally started to come back around, your eyes fluttering back open as you pulled in a deep breath to center yourself again. “There you are,” Matt mumbled, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as he held you close. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”
“Don’t apologize. Those were the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had,” you interrupted him, a quiet giggle escaping your lips as you snuggled into his chest.
“Same here,” Matt replied, the quiet chuckle rumbling out of his chest soothing under your ear as you continued to gather yourself in his embrace.
“Let's go get you cleaned up,” Matt said after a few peaceful moments of silence.
“Help me up?” you mumbled, your eyes heavy as you curled further into his embrace.
“You got it,” he replied before untangling himself from your limbs and making his way into the bathroom to start up the shower.
“I love you Matthew Murdock, and happy anniversary,” you whispered as he pulled you up and into his arms to help you walk into the bathroom on unsteady legs.
He got you set up in the shower and began massaging soap onto your skin as he told you, “I love you too,” the smile evident in his voice. He would have to find another occasion to bring out those panties again…
this is highly unformatted and barely edited ngl i’m just tryna get this thrown up as a little birthday treat from me to y’all!
likes and comments are always appreciated! xo, brooke <3
✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨
✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨
✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Tears + "I'd be lost without you." + Breast Worship🐟✨
✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨
dreams unwind, love's a state of mind
a/n: i am posting the prompts i'm doing for challenges a bit late cause i haven't been here. but this is my first ever days of future past logan fic and i am nervous! i originally planned to do it in the 70s but then an even angstier idea hit me. and honestly i'm kind of in love with how it turned out. this isn't as much smut as i intended, but who cares. enjoy!
tuna-tober 2024: day eleven - tears + "i'd be lost without you." + breast worship
summary: they told him to change the future, to right the wrongs that the world caused. but he didn't do it for them. he did it for the chance to see his lover one more time. even if he shared a different history than them.
word count: 2.1k+
pairing: logan howlett x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI 18+ ONLY!! angst, fluff, reuniting, tears, grief, logan has ptsd, mention of death, love, breast worship, body worship, biting, dry humping, they almost get it on in an empty classroom.
He never felt his heart beat this fast. A rapid thud, thud, thud against his ribs as he took long strides through the halls. His eyes scanned each corner and passing student for the sight of someone familiar. Logan didn't have any worries that you would be unrecognizable. He didn't worry that you were different.
His soul would know you from miles away—the connection that tied you to him stronger than his will to survive.
No matter what Charles told him. He didn't go back for him or Jean or Storm. He didn't fight to change history just to get a chance to save his family. That remained only part of the reason. Logan survived—he clawed his way through the past—for one sole purpose. He would finally get a second chance; he'd get to see you smile again, hear you laugh, feel your lips against his.
Going through hell became worth it if it meant getting the opportunity to have you in his arms.
Students pushed past him on their way to lunch. Several greeted him with a term he would have to grow accustomed to—professor—others tossing him a warm hello before they scurried by. He seemed to have a solidified life here. The promise of peace in a world that once ripped him in two. He wasn't just the Wolverine in these hallowed halls.
He was Logan Howlett too.
"Baby!" he called, running down the empty hallway towards the set of classrooms. "Princess are you here?"
Charles directed him in his mind, pushing images of moments he couldn't recall to the front of his mind. Smiles hidden in secret during meetings packed in a too small office. Touches that you hoped went unnoticed through training sessions and meals in the dining room. Jokes about the two professors who snuck into each other's rooms at night for months on end, long before they finally decided to move in together.
Time he'd never get back. Memories that never belonged to him in the first place.
Would you like this version of him? The Logan that had seen far worse, who endured a war, who held your dying body in his arms as a battle went on behind him. Would you love the scars that ran just a bit deeper? The pain that lingered for far longer than you deserved.
Fear gripped his heart at the thought of anything other than your love. He wouldn't survive a life spent without you. He went through that once and every day felt as if his soul was being torn from his body. Each gruesome wake up to move places and fight for mutants who may never make it out alive, became lifeless—colorless—because you weren't there.
"C'mon baby," he muttered, turning in a circle, his chest heaving with gasped breaths. The air seemed to be stripped clean of your scent, no mark of your existence filled the mansion as it once did.
He felt his body seize—the familiar numbing ache trickling down through his body.
No reason to live resided in his heart if you weren't here to spend it with him.
"Princess!" he practically shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Fuck. You gotta be here. You gotta–"
"Logan?"
The soft lilt of your voice forming his name on your lips punched him in the chest, effectively stealing whatever breath he clung to. He whirled around, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears, as you popped out of the classroom door behind him. He'd never seen such beauty until today. A wash of relief flooded his body, the weight on his shoulders landing on the floor with a heavy thud.
He drank in the sight of you with a smile. The curve of your hips in a too tight black and white pinstripe pencil skirt, the way your white button down rolled at the sleeves hugged your breasts—the black lace bra faintly evident against the sunlight that streamed through the windows. He devoured you with his gaze alone. Yet the hunger still persisted. It ate at his heart, begged him to move, to gather you in his arms.
But for the life of him...he was unable to gain control of his limbs.
They were stuck. Frozen against time as you moved a bit closer, your black heels clicking on the hardwood floors.
You looked exactly the same. Though some differences lay in the style of your hair, the red lips painted deep and enticing, the glasses tucked into the front of your shirt, Logan felt as if you were ripped right from his memories.
His girl. His princess.
"Baby," he murmured, doing what he could to catch his breath.
Your eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed as you regarded him with a flash of concern. "Is everything okay? Charles let me know you were looking for me."
The mention of the man's name forced him to finally move. What little of Charles still lingered in the back of his mind quickly retreated—the mission to find you now complete. This was his way of giving the both of you some privacy. A chance to reconcile with the woman he thought he'd never see again. Logan thanked him silently, promising to speak after all was said and done—after he got a chance to hold you for the first time in nearly a decade.
"You're here," he sighed, his feet moving faster than either of you expected.
"Of course I'm here. I had a class to teach. Quantum mechanics, well actually more a study of molecular physics today. I thought I let you know at breakfast–" His hands gripped your waist roughly, pushing you back into your empty classroom with a growl. "Logan!"
His foot shut the door, hand blindly fumbling for the lock, as he dragged you against his body with his other arm. An explanation would be given later in the dark confines of your shared bedroom. He'd explain it all to you, every gruesome and grave detail. All the questions he knew swirled inside your head—ever the curious woman he fell hopelessly in love with.
But right now he'd have you on the nearest desk (preferably yours). In this fleeting moment he would reclaim what was so brutally taken from him; the love he felt now pouring out from every part of his body. Beating in tune with his erratic heart.
"What are you doing?" you gasped, hands pressed against his chest to steady yourself. "Is everything okay? Are you hurt?"
His stomach fluttered, the sensation of being on cloud nine now a reality the longer he looked at your pretty form. Hands quickly roamed his shoulders and arms as you checked for any injuries that might appear at a moment's notice. Nevermind that he healed quicker than any other mutant in this school. Nevermind that he stared at you with an expression that could only be described as awestruck.
You still did what you felt was necessary to ease the growing worry in the back of your mind.
"'M more than okay baby." The low rasp of his voice forced your gaze up to his within seconds. A soft oh echoing in the empty room.
No explanation was needed when he looked at you with pupils that devoured the hazel of his iris. You knew what he wanted—could feel the desperation in his tight grip. The thickening sweetness of your scent curled around his senses like a drug, filling his body with a need that permeated the air.
"I missed you," he breathed. "So much."
Logan wished there was a way to convey how much anguish his heart went through in the years after your death. The nights spent yearning for your touch. The memory of you passing onto a plane he couldn't follow burned onto the back of his eyelids. He couldn't escape what happened.
Death was an easy option for him. A choice he would have made in the blink of an eye. But the laws of his own being were unable to be severed. He'd never be able to join you—forever stuck in a world without your light.
He longed to tell you all of it, but feared he might fuck it up.
"You saw me a few hours ago," you grinned.
"God I wish that were true."
Your mouth parted, eyes overflowing with worry, and Logan could no longer fathom a moment without your kiss. Dipping down swiftly he slotted his lips against yours with a groan. His hands gripping any plush part of your body he could reach. Unable to stick to one spot because there was so much of you he missed. The feel of your ass in his hands as he gripped you close, how you blissfully sighed into his mouth, relenting to his hold.
Kissing you felt as if he gained back all the years he missed out on. The time he thought was unsalvageable.
The feel of your tongue pressing against his drove him over to the edge of madness. A feral moan coated in a gravel hoarseness ripped from his throat, his fingers squeezing your body to drag you even closer. He sucked on your bottom lip, licked into your mouth with whimpered broken sounds, and refused to stop even when you pulled back for air.
"W-We're in a classroom Logan," you gasped, high-pitched and layered in a neediness that matched his own.
"I don't fuckin' care."
"I don't want to get caught–"
Sucking your tongue into his mouth with a grunt, he began to walk until the back of your thighs hit the grand desk you sat at. The plaque of your name now lay with a pile of papers that landed on the floor. He groped your breasts, tugging the buttons until they popped free—scattering across the room with soft pings.
"My shirt!"
He grinned. "I'll help ya find them later, princess."
"You're not fucking me here. We have a room for a reason." The words were accompanied by a moan, your head tipping back to give him the expanse of your neck.
Space he happily began to sink his teeth into. He sucked at your skin as he pulled at your bra, his thumbs running across peaked nipples that practically begged for his attention. An act he was more than happy to partake in. With a grunt, he sucked one into his mouth, spit smearing into your soft skin with the promise of making a mess wherever he could.
"F-Fuck," you panted, fingers ripping at his hair as your hips canted up into his. "What's gotten into you baby?"
He answered with a deep grind of his hips into yours, the sticky precum practically drowning his cock in the confines of his jeans. Self control wasn't his strongest ability at this very moment. Not when he could feel the heat of your cunt call his name. He'd be surprised if he lasted long enough to sink into you—to finally indulge in the warmth of your body.
Teeth dug into the side of your breast, his hands tugging your cunt along his jeans as tears pricked his eyes. Losing you wasn't the worst part of all of this. Not being able to remember the last time he felt you this way—the final day of joy in your relationship before it happened—would forever haunt him. A memory he should have solidified in the back of his mind slipped free before his very eyes.
How did you smile at him? Was it a stolen moment by firelight? Were you smiling just to appease his growing anxiety about losing you? Or did you feel a flicker of joy?
For the life of him...he couldn't bring that moment to mind.
"Logan?" Your hands tugged his head back, thumbs wiping away tears he didn't know started to fall. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
He grinned, broken and marred and bleeding all the love his weary body could muster. "I'd be lost with you."
You paused, disbelief shrouding your features. "What are you talking about baby? Did something happen?"
The time to reveal it all would be now, but how could he move past this? Your breasts were free and coated in his spit, your eyes were darkened with wanton lust. To him you would never look more beautiful. Entirely disheveled, yet still willing to help him by any means necessary.
You would always be—and forever remain—the other half to his scarred soul.
"I'll tell you later," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your wrist. "I'll tell you everything."
"But–"
He shook his head. "Lemme have this. Okay? I need this."
A discerning smile crossed your lips as he leaned in for another kiss, his body pressing you down until your back hit the desk. This certainly wasn't how he envisioned your reunion happening. A quickie in the confines of an empty classroom that you'd eventually teach in a few hours later. But Logan couldn't fathom waiting. He'd spent years pining after a soul that might never walk the same ground as him.
A brief moment of bliss. A short forever in the allotted time.
This was something he could steal for himself.
-
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