#if there are grammar mistakes. no there aren’t

[d1nkyduck]

The Shadow's Resolve

The Shadow’s Resolve. - Neglect. Verb. … To give little attention or respect to; to disregard. To leave undone or unattended to, especially through carelessness. To fail to do something due to thoughtlessness or carelessness. Lack of due care or attention; negligence. Introduction/Synopsis: In which instead of raising just yourself you have to raise Bruce’s “charity case”. Now look where it’s gotten you, stuck trying to get your “family” out your hair, multiverse shenanigans, and having to Scooby-Doo this shit. Oh Wait! Time travel too!? A/n- English is my first language so this writing and grammar is going to be ass. This is beta read and has been beta read so much it is now burned into my skull. Enjoy! (Please let me know if you see any mistakes, all will be updated and fixed as soon as possible.)

Your Reading: Prologue 3/7 Inside, there is darkness and dirt. It’s not the dust and dirt found in a building, but rather, earthy soil like dirt. You turn on your night vision and decide to crawl in taking the peculiar key with you. The wardrobe doors quietly shut behind you, plunging you into total darkness—thankfully, your night vision lenses in the mask are working. The note warned you not to turn back, so you keep moving forward; it’s the only way to go now. Once you enter the little hole, the tiny door shuts behind you. Unbeknownst to you, the wardrobe vanishes as soon as it locks you inside. Outside, the wardrobe magically spins and twists before disappearing into thin air leaving no trace of you. You're feeling a little uneasy as you keep crawling deeper. Luckily, the space isn't super cramped, but it's not big enough for you to stand or crouch comfortably. Out of nowhere, the dirt shifts into this strange, paper-like tube tunnel. You switch off the night vision and find yourself in this weird, glowing tunnel that has colors that are way more chill than that never-ending, earthy tunnel. The colors are all distinct from each other and appear in various patches. It begins with a gentle blend before merging together and then spiraling as you progress. Then, a breeze arises. Initially faint, it grows stronger the further you advance, creating a sensation of being drawn forward. The tunnel widens, and just when you think you've arrived at the end, you are propelled forward and start to spin and soar. You shout in surprise at the sudden movement before abruptly halting, leaving no time to respond. It feels like you're tumbling down what resembles a rabbit hole now. Thankfully you aren’t plummeting, but rather floating down gently and gracefully. As you descend you start to see various items that either closely resemble something from your world or don’t look like anything you’ve ever seen. Some items look like they are from the future. You try to touch some of these items, but they float away from your grasp. You then see a mirror in the distance. When you fall further down and meet up with the mirror you notice you are starting to get younger.

The small patches of gray hair caused by stress are gone, now replaced by the hair you had in your youth. Before you can fully notice the other changes, you float down further and softly land on a floor resembling earthy soil. Ahead of you is a short and narrow tunnel. You crawl forward and open another door at the end of the tunnel. You're hoping you're not back to square one. Thankfully, there's a room at the other end. Inside, there's just a small round table with another note sitting on it. "Good luck! Go find Uno."

This time they had provided their signature. "- U.N.R" "Not their whole name, just their initials. Noted." You say before advancing to the concluding door. This door is significantly distinct from the others. It is constructed of wood, exhibiting a texture reminiscent of that found on a tree trunk. You retrieve the unusual key that you pocketed earlier and search for the lock on the door adorned with tree bark textures. Upon locating the small lock, you insert the key into the opening and turn it until you hear a subtle click. Subsequently, you remove the key from the lock and push the door open to reveal an unexpected panorama before you, a verdant city park. You find yourself within an expansive and lush hedge maze.

You crawl out the small door at the base of the massive tree which seemed to be where the door led out of. After exiting, the small door swings shut and locks itself before the keyhole disappears. It looked like a normal tree now. When you go to place the key in the same pouch on your utility belt that you have been placing it in, you notice your outfit has changed to a much more casual and civilian one. It must have changed with your age and appearance.

There’s a lot going on right now but first things first. No matter what, you need to keep a cool head and find a way out of this maze. After observing several conveniently placed signs, you manage to find your way out. It appears that many individuals lost their way frequently in this maze. The vibrant colors seem to fade away as you leave. You are indeed in Gotham City, although the smell is more tolerable than it was in your… past? Dimension? Maybe the pollution isn’t as severe here, at least for now. Before you can walk away two young teens, one happily, the other worriedly appear out of nowhere and grab you. “Dude what took you so long the buses are loading up. You almost got the bus left.”

The worried looking boy says, shaking you with a strong grip. The happy looking girl pushes the boy out of the way. “Kenji is right. The buses are totally leaving us soon. We should probably hurry.”

Masterlist

[love-hold]

20 moments to recap AO25

(all singles moments i’m sorry)

1. carlos alcaraz (or rather buzzcutcaraz) debuted his new victorbarber haircut and was tomatoed for lack of a better word, causing his fans to crash out two weeks into the new season.

2. danielle collins made herself an enemy of australia (or at least of the crowd at her R2 match against hometown hero destanee aiava)

3. AO’s YouTube channel premiered AO Animated, a free livestream that cartoon animated RLA matches and captured moments like this.

4. laura siegemund knocked out AO24 finalist zheng qinwen R2, which doesn’t help how much people dislike her already after her match against coco gauff at USO23

5. 18 year old, ATP next gen champion joao fonseca battled through qualifying and knocked out 9th seed andrey rublev R1. for 24H he was praised as the next hot thing, claimed as part of the next big 3 along with alcaraz/sinner (rip holger rune). unfortunately, he was knocked out R2 by lorenzo sonego, teaching an important lesson on how we shouldn’t make these comparisons so hastily because that kind of expectation is anything but beneficial. leave the guy alone! (btw no hate to joao, i’m excited to see his career flourish!)

6. sunflowered naomi osaka—after being handed quite a draw—took revenge on the last two players that kicked her out of 2024’s hard court slams: the c/k-aros, caroline garcia and karolina muchova

7. lucky loser eva lys reached R4 and achieved her career best performance at a grand slam. the craziest part? she was notified 10 mins before her R1 match that she would be playing. i love a fairytale run!

8. 19 year old, next gen ATP finals runner up learner tien beat the 5 set, 2 AM chaos match specialist himself, daniil medvedev. one of the best matches of the tournament, learner kicked out AO24’s finalist in R2 with a dramatic fifth set tiebreak. he continued to rally himself to R4, the youngest player since 2005 nadal to do so.

shoutout to alex michelsen who defeated AO23 finalist stefanos tsitsipas and karen khachanov, and jakub mensik who defeated casper ruud. next gen!

9. jacob fearnley shut nick kyrgios up

10. novak djokovic refused to do the typical on-court post-match interview with jim courier in an act of protect against the comments of channel 9 host tony jones who heckled his fans and called him overrated.

11. oh AO kits. you were pretty underwhelming. nike hit another low—i can’t believe that tank top dress made it to the women’s final. in both colors. but there were positives. once again, coco and naomi: gorgeous. esp naomi’s sunflowers! ON finally changed their gradient colors. purple BOSS shirt! (unfortunately, didn’t see much of it) and i really loved destanee aiava’s story behind her kits. but jannik’s denim custom fox...this is what you give to the world number 1?

12. iga’s bakery opened again, dishing out a scary number of bagels and breadsticks. in fact, while the ATP had its ugly five setters like usual (jack draper playing 3 in a row), countless players from the WTA gave out 6-0’s and 6-1’s this tournament

13. kei nishikori lived up to his reputation as the five set king, defeating thiago monteiro R1 from two-love down

14. janholger delivered the chaos we expected. alpine-boy, sickly victorian child, jannik sinner practically melted on RLA, taking an 11 min MTO. holger then decided to take his own MTO, 5-3 on jannik’s serve. if that wasn’t enough, jannik decided to break the net, delaying the match another 20 mins. also, there was this point.

15. more “surprise players” (draw wise) reached the second week: nastia pavlyuchenkova (QF) belinda bencic (R4), olga danilovic (R4), paula badosa (SF), lorenzo sonego (QF), gael monfils (R4), elina svitolina (QF), ben shelton (SF), and madison keys (more on her later).

ALSO ben became the first active american man to reach the semis of different 2 grand slams.

16. elina and gael were true tennis power couple goals, knocking out #4 seeds jasmine paolini and taylor fritz R3, hours after the other and reaching the second week (shoutout to gael at 38 years old, still delivering entertaining five setters)

17. the projected novak djokovic and carlos alcaraz QF did happen to the joy of most tennis fanatics and to the horror of carlos’ fan base. the end result? carlos’ dream of the career GS slam was crushed once again, and novak’s thigh became equally injured, leading him to retire in his SEMIFINAL MATCH against zverev. he was boo-ed off the court. jfc.

18. world #1 jannik Winner defended his AO title in straights without giving up any break points, extending his match streak to 37-1 from oct. he only dropped two sets: the king of hardcourt, completely untouchable.

19. adding even more humiliation to the loss, zverev’s history of domestic violence (given the fact that said history has been blatantly ignored by the ATP) was publicly called out during his losers speech

20. and last but certainly not least MADISON KEYS DETHRONED 2X DEFENDING CHAMPION ARYNA SABALENKA, FINALLY EARNING HER WELL-DESERVED GRAND SLAM AT 29 (AT THE TOURNAMENT WHERE SHE MADE HER FIRST SLAM SEMI AS A TEEN), BATTLING THROUGH SABALENKA (1) SWIATEK (2) SVITOLINA (28) RYBAKINA (6) COLLINS (11). absolutely insane.

————

I 100% missed many other moments, tag below for your top picks ;)

honorable mentions (that I can think of)

-adm reaching the QFs!

-taylor donating his R1 match earnings to help the LA fires

-keys v swiatek SEMI (including the shadow hitting/serve clock drama)

-novandy

[foodsies4me]

So much fun to wake up to shitty comments on a fic that has a clearly stated « not beta read » tag.

[osachiyo]

“HERE K!TTY-K!TTY—”

synopsis— not so innocent moments with your favorite cat boys <3

warnings— n/sfw content, fem!reader, HORNY cat boys, teasing, bondage, oral (m&f), thigh fucking, kinda feral xavier, collars, body worship, overstimulation, sub!rafayel, pet names & nicknames (master, kitty, cutie etc), praise, a lil degradation, very feral sylus & more! also there may be some grammar mistakes which i apologize for </3

note— my first time writing for these boys, hope I did ‘em justice! ik I’m astronomically late don’t clock me 😞

featuring— zayne, xavier, rafayel & sylus x fem!reader (separate)

✰ now playing — kitty kat by megan the stallion ✰

✦ ZAYNE— feasting on his master

“There, there, kitty,” you smiled at Zayne’s serious expression, waving the cat toy in his face before pulling it away just as he reached for it.

“Feeling playful, are we?” he huffed, his voice a mixture of exasperation and amusement as he lunged to catch the bright, feathered toy again, but your quick reflexes kept it just out of reach. “Oh? Don’t you want to play with your master, cute kitty?” The corners of your mouth curled into a wide smirk as you settled comfortably onto the plush sofa behind you, the soft fabric cradling your form. In your playful distraction, one of your shoes tumbled gracefully to the wooden floor with a soft thud. You glanced up at the towering man, your eyes sparkling with mischief and challenge. “Well? Aren’t you going to help me put it back on?” you teased playfully.

Zayne sighed at your flirtatious little display before kneeling in front of you and picking your shoe up from the carpeted floor. You observed as he gently lifted your foot, his gloved hands gliding down the soft fabric of your stockings while you placed your foot on his thigh. A gasp nearly escaped his pink lips as you ran your foot up and down his clothed thigh, causing him to shiver at your touch.

He let out a soft scoff, a small frown gracing his face as he suddenly seized your foot, halting your playful dance. “Your shoe, master,” Zayne said, his gaze locking onto yours, those long lashes framing his eyes captivatingly with every blink. A thrill ran through you as you leaned in, your cheek resting against your palm, eyes sparkling. You nodded, a playful smile curving your lips, allowing him to slip the shoe back on your foot, your heart pulsing with a mix of anticipation and lust.

You didn't stop him as his hands suddenly traveled further, and further up your smooth legs, up your plump thighs — until they were playing with the hem of your tight little dress, making goosebumps appear on your soft skin. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you wore this, didn't you, master?” Zayne breathed out, licking his lips as he slowly spread your legs apart, lowly purring at the sight of the little patch of wetness staining your cotton panties.

“Hmm, did I?” A playful grin spread across your face as your hands reached out to gently pet and scratch at his soft, velvety ears. The delightful sensation made him release a soft moan from his slightly parted lips, his fingers instinctively tightening their grip on your thighs, anchoring himself closer to you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darling,” Zayne murmured with a low, teasing tone, his breath warm against your skin. He lowered his face, allowing his cheek to rest on your lap, feeling the warmth radiate from your body. The intoxicating scent of your arousal filled his senses, and he could almost taste it—rich and sweet, making his mouth water with longing.

“Well?”

Your voice, soft yet teasing, drew his gaze upward to meet your captivating face, where a playful glint danced in your eyes. A mischievous smirk graced your lips as you leaned in slightly, the warmth of your presence electrifying the air between you. “Aren’t you going to dig in, kitty?” you purred, each word laced with an inviting promise.

And dig in he did — panties hurriedly being pushed to the side as he buried his face between your plush thighs, tongue circling your clit while two long fingers poked and prodded at your tight hole — eliciting little moans of pleasure from your plump lips. The pretty noises encouraged Zayne to wrap his lips around your little bundle of now nerves and sucking hard — causing one of your hands to tangle itself in his hair and tugging like your life depended on it.

That caused Zayne to groan loudly into your cunt, earning a sharp gasp from you as the sound reverberated through your body — biting down on your bottom lip to keep yourself somewhat grounded as he stuck his tongue in your cute hole; gooey walls clamping down on the muscle as he savored the tang of your sweet slick.

“F-fuuh— tastes s’good, master,” he moaned into your pussy, slurping on your juices as they poured down his chin like honey, successfully coating the lower half of his handsome face in your sticky arousal.

With your legs resting comfortably on his shoulders, you could feel the warmth of his skin against the backs of your thighs. Your shoes lay discarded on the floor, forgotten as your feet swung gently in the air, toes barely brushing against his back. The way he held you created a lovely curve in your spine, pulling you into a graceful arch as Zayne brought you closer to the edge of the sofa — his tongue sloppily fucking into your cunt.

“O-oh god, Zayne—!” you mewled, clenching your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm approaching fast, your legs closing around him — effectively trapping his head between your thighs as you grinded on his face. “Cum. Oh s-shit — cum on my face, master.” You threw your head back as your pussy gushed on Zayne’s eager tongue, while he licked up every single drop of your sweet slick — couldn't let any go to waste.

“Good girl. Now bend over for me, won't you?”

✦ XAVIER— sleepy catboy turns feral?!

You stepped into the shared bedroom, a weary sigh escaping your lips as you brushed off the stray cat fur clinging to your clothes. Another long day at the cat cafe had left you both exhilarated and drained. Your heart swelled with affection for the playful furballs that filled your day with joy, but you couldn’t ignore the toll that wrangling a dozen spirited kitties took on your energy. As you kicked off your shoes, you felt the familiar blend of exhaustion and satisfaction wash over you.

"You're back." A wave of warmth flooded through you at the sound of your boyfriend Xavier's soothing voice, the tension in your shoulders dissipating as he enveloped you in his taller, comforting frame. His lips met your forehead in a tender kiss, and he nestled his nose into your hair, inhaling the delicate, fruity aroma of your shampoo. "Missed me too much?" you teased, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you wrapped your arms around the elegant curve of his neck. In response, he tightened his embrace around your waist, eliciting a contented sigh from you, as your exhaustion melted away in the safety of his hold.

"Mm, you couldn't imagine how much," Xavier purred, pulling away from you before pouting — god, you just wanted to press kisses all over his face. He's too pretty for his own good, you thought as you reached out to pat his head and scratch at his little ears until he caught your hand before you could. "You smell like other cats. I don't like it," he scrunched his nose up in disgust, clearly jealous that you had another cat's scent on you.

You laughed softly, amused at how childish he was being. "I was at a cat cafe the whole day, love. I'd be surprised if I didn't smell like cats," you said, shaking your head in disbelief. You made another attempt to wriggle your hand free from Xavier's firm grasp, but he remained steadfast, his grip unyielding. Just as you were about to plead with him to let go so you could take a refreshing shower, he suddenly broke the silence with a surprising comment.

"I see... I suppose it's only right for me to mark you as my own now," he declared, a determined glint in his eyes as he fixed his gaze on you, his seriousness palpable. The weight of his words hung in the air, thick with unspoken promise. You could only blink in stunned silence, your mind racing to process his intent. Confusion etched itself across your features, and you furrowed your brows in disbelief. "M-mark me...?" you stammered, the words barely escaping your lips as you struggled to comprehend what he meant.

Xavier's lips curled up into a devilish smile, mischief swimming in his soft azure eyes. "Mhm, shouldn't a cat properly mark their property?" He questioned as he pulled you closer — your hands settling on his hard chest, his voice husky and dripping with lust, causing your thighs to clench.

You gasped when Xavier's soft lips found themselves latching onto your earlobe, biting and sucking on the sensitive spot before whispering lowly, "don't you agree, master?"

That's how you ended up in the meanest arch— your knees sinking into the silken sheets as your face was pushed into the fluffy pillows, rendering you a drooling mess beneath the man fucking into your sopping cunt like his life depended on it. "Nngh— Xavier!" You wailed out, fingers entangling themselves in the sheets. Your pretty moans and cries of pleasure did nothing but add fuel to the burning fire of his desires— his eyes almost rolling behind closed lids as he slammed his hips against your ass harder— faster, much too drunk on the feeling of your tight walls fluttering around him.

"S-shiit— so fucking pretty, angel—" Xavier's breath came in quick, warm bursts as he panted into your ear, his hard chest flush against your back. Each labored inhale fanned over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a rush of heat across your cheeks. "You're s-so nng—! pretty.." he slurred, one of his hands reaching to grab your hair before pulling your head back and forcing your tear-stained eyes to meet his own drunken ones. Your mushy walls tightened upon looking at his hungry gaze, earning a choked moan from him— god, you could practically see hearts floating in his eyes.

Xavier smashed his lips against yours, teeth clashing against each other’s and his tongue ravishing yours. His hips bucked into your ass at a wild pace and the tip of his cock nudged into your g-spot repeatedly, causing little yelps and moans of his name to fall from your candied lips.

"s'messy, baby fuuck—!" You whined, biting your lower lip as you looked down to see what a mess you both were making, your juices and Xavier's previous loads dripping down from your overstuffed hole to the sheets underneath like a waterfall.

"Haah— clenching s'tight 'round me," Xavier whined pathetically before sinking his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder, earning a high pitched squeal from you. You threw your head back as you felt his hand coiling around your tummy to reach down and rub fast circles on your clit— sloppy walls clenching and unclenching around his length, his mouth all but drunkenly slacking open at every clamp of your syrupy pussy.

"'G-god, you're so unngh— fucking b-beautiful," he groaned out, his free reaching upwards to wrap his fingers around your pretty little throat— turning your head towards him to meet his gaze once again.

You feel your swollen folds get even more soaked, if that's even possible, at the utter pussydrunk look on Xavier's usually aloof features. His eyes were almost crazed— feral even, pupils blown out with the desire to breed you and fill you up with his kits overtaking his entire being.

To say you were in big trouble would be an understatement at that point..

✦ RAFAYEL— “stringy” situation?…

The sun flooded through the window, spilling its golden rays throughout the living room. You were lounging on the couch, half-distracted by a book, when you heard the familiar sound of Rafayel's soft purring from the other side of the room. You glanced up just in time to see him—your recently turned cat-boyfriend—pawing at a stray ball of yarn you’d left on the floor earlier.

"Rafayel... no!" you gasped, knowing full well how mischievous he could be when he set his mind on something.

But it was too late. His curiosity got the better of him. Rafayel, with his nimble fingers and feline instincts, quickly batted at the ball, unraveling it further. He gave you a sly glance, as though saying "try me if you dare."

"You better not," you warned further, but it was already too late.

Rafayel was able to deftly maneuver his hand towards the center of the ball of yarn, thanks to a sudden flicking motion of his wrist. He made a strange sound and stopped working when he felt the string rotating around his wrist and then his arm. His cat brain was clearly working hard but didn't seem to realize how much havoc a ball of yarn could cause.

Before you could react, Rafayel tried to pull the ball closer, only to find himself awkwardly yanked forward by the strands now snaking around his legs. With a plop, he tumbled to the floor in an ungraceful heap, his body tangled in a mess of yarn.

You burst out laughing, watching as Rafayel wiggled and squirmed, his tail flicking with irritation. "I didn’t think it would be this bad," he muttered, trying to untangle himself with his free hand, but only managing to knot the string further.

“Need some help?” you asked, trying to stifle your giggles.

“I’m fine,” he replied, a bit too proudly, although he was clearly stuck in a ridiculous position. He tried to stand, but the yarn just seemed to hold him in place, like an invisible web. His attempt only resulted in a slow, comical spin as the yarn tightened around him.

After a few more futile attempts to free himself, Rafayel finally gave up with an exaggerated sigh, slumping onto his back. “Okay, maybe a little help.”

You moved over to him, carefully "undoing" the tangled mess of yarn as he laid back with a contented purr, his eyes half-closed in relaxed defeat. “I really thought I had it under control,” he mumbled, his voice warm with embarrassment but still endearing.

"Wait- wait why are you—!" Rafayel gasped in confusion as you pulled the yarn tighter around him, effectively trapping him in place. "Well, mister kitty cat, I did tell you not to touch the yarn, didn't I?" You questioned, a teasing lilt to your tone.

“So? What’re you planning to do, cutie? Punish me?” Rafayel smirked, raising a brow at you. You only smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief, “Yes. You’re gonna be punished.”

“Bring it on then,” he huffed, cockiness dripping from his tone as he eyed you down, a tent already managing to form in his pants at your intense gaze.

Oh poor thing, he had absolutely no idea what was coming for him.

“O-oh cutie—“ Rafayel’s lewd moans echoed throughout the living room, his abdomen clenching and unclenching with pleasure as you bobbed your head on his pretty cock; the sensitive tip hitting the back of your throat each time. You only hummed, looking up at your boyfriend through your lashes, his pre-cum and your saliva running down your chin as your nails gripped onto his thighs.

Rafayel groaned out your name repeatedly, as if it were his prayer — when you were the one worshiping him. Could anyone blame you, though? When he looked so delectable with his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, nose scrunched up in pleasure and eyes shut tight, lashes resting on his cheeks and mouth agape as loud moans left him.

Not to mention the small beads of sweat dripping down his abs— his back arching and hips bucking into your mouth while you suck on his pink tip just the way he likes it, the gags and choked sounds leaving your lips only making him harder— if that were even possible.

You hummed sweetly around his cock, staring up at him through your lashes as you blinked slowly— letting his precum drip down your chin in stringy webs. Rafayel could only whine at the sight, a pout settling on his pink lips as you teased him.

“So close b-baby, don’t— ngh shitshitshit- stop—” he threw his head back with a loud groan as you took him in as deep as you could, shooting his cum down your throat as your nose bushed against that little patch of hair on his pelvis.

You pulled back with a ‘pop!’ before opening your mouth, letting his semen drip down your chin, making a mess on the wooden floorboards below. Rafayel panted, eyes darkening at the lewd scene before him.

“I must say, cutie— that was a reaaal nice show you put on for me,” He drawled, “but—”

Your eyes widened when you heard the loud ‘riiiip’ echoing off the walls — Rafayel’s now free hands reaching down to shove you against the floor,

“Raf—”

He was quick to cut you off, “ah ah ah, darling— you’ve had your little fun, and now I will have mine.”

✦ SYLUS— the collared beast.

You really don’t remember how you ended up in this position— folded up like a lawn chair under sylus’s strong figure, knees touching your ears and thighs flush against your bruised tits. You can hear ringing in your ears, not being able to pick up sylus’s feral groans and growls of your name until a soft slap to your cheek broke you out of your sweet trance. “W-what’s wrong, sweetie? Thought you could handle me?” He purred, fingers tightening around your throat so even if you wanted to answer, you couldn’t. Not that you would be able to anyway, not when Sylus’s fat cock drilled into you so hard, fast and rough— pressing into the rough little patch of your g-spot so deliciously.

You could only babble and cry out broken little moans and sobs— almost making the feline above you feel bad— almost. But it also scratched a deep, dark part of him— something he had been repressing for your sake, but god did it feel amazing— having you split open and dumb on his cock.

The collar around his neck only added more fuel to his burning fire, the pretty leash tangled in your fingers as he demanded you to pull— pull as hard as you could because fuck, nothing could feel better than this, in his mind. Nothing could feel better than him finally letting the beast out— devouring you whole as if you were his prey, not his master. The thought made him rut into your soaked heat even faster— sharp teeth burying themselves in your shoulder as his balls slapped against your ass, the loud “plap plap plap!” noise echoed throughout the room— if anybody was outside they could surely hear you two easily, but that was the least of your worries.

How could you worry about being heard when sharp red eyes glared into your own teary ones— gooey pussy squeezing tight around his shaft as he finally gave you the permission to let go - to cum for him, hard.

“Ohh yes, there she is..” Sylus groaned, a smile gracing his sharp features. “Did you enjoy yourself, sweetheart?” You only hummed in response, seemingly too tired to give him a proper response.

You almost let your eyes fully shut until you heard the soft click of the collar being opened.. but your eyes widened in confusion and dread once he wrapped it around your neck.

“What’s with that look, master? It’s only fair that I have my turn as well, don’t you think?”

@𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 — ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ/ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴛʀ���ɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ.

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[jewghead]

the thing about me is if i get too comfy ill startvfucking with your pronouns cause my brain is convinced that if im relaxed then words don’t have meanings and such. i think grammar was a bigger struggle than i wanted to admit growing up

[sttoru]

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

[satellite-evans]

just rain

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando claims his first win of the season in a rain-soaked Melbourne Grand Prix with a gentle reminder of his son.

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: fluff, anxiety

A/N:

picture credits @pucksandpitlanes <3

AHHHHHH LANDO WON IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM!!!! I couldn't watch bc of time zones but when is saw it in the morning I was soooo 🥹🥹🥹

also Alex being higher than the ferraris was NOT on my bingo card lol but im super excited for him too🤎

I overdramatized the race a bit and it is not 100 % accurate 😅

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sky was breaking open.

What had been a perfect, cloudless Saturday — where everything had felt possible — was now a roaring mess of water and wind.

The same track that had held his first pole position of the season now looked like a stranger.

Lando stood by his car, helmet tucked under his arm, rain sliding off his race suit in steady streams, like the sky itself was crying for him.

He was trying — really trying — to get his head straight.

But it was hard.

Hard when the weight of every near-miss, every mistake, every podium that wasn’t a win pressed on his shoulders.

Hard when the image of Max in São Paulo, slicing through the rain like it wasn’t even there, looped in his mind, taunting him.

This was supposed to be his day.

Pole was supposed to mean something.

But now, all he could think about was how easily rain could take that away.

What if I mess it up? What if I lose everything? What if-

“Daddy?”

The small voice broke through the storm in his head like sunshine through clouds.

He turned.

There was Noah — rain dripping from the ends of his jacket, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes wide and honest and full of something Lando had lost in the last few hours: belief.

You hovered just behind him, watching quietly, giving them space.

Lando crouched down, resting his arms on his knees to meet Noah at eye level.

“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, though his throat felt tight. "You okay out here in the rain?"

Noah frowned, taking a step closer until he was right up in Lando’s space, hands reaching to tug gently at Lando’s suit.

“I am okay, but why are you not okay, Daddy?” he asked, tilting his head. "Aren’t you gonna win? You said you were gonna win."

Lando let out a breath, a shaky laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I know, mate. I… I wanna win." His voice cracked at the end.

Noah blinked up at him, unbothered by the rain hitting his face. "Then why are you sad?"

Lando hesitated. What could he even say? Because sometimes winning feels impossible? Because I don’t know if I’m good enough? Because I'm scared?

Instead, he shrugged, offering a small, forced smile.

“It’s raining a lot,” he finally said, as if that explained the weight in his chest.

But Noah just gave him a look — the same look Lando had given you a thousand times when he thought you were worrying too much.

“It’s just rain, Daddy," Noah said matter-of-factly. "We like rain.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard.

"You always chase me in the rain," Noah continued, smiling now, that childhood certainty glowing in his eyes. "You say it makes you run faster. And you always catch me, even if I’m the fastest runner ever."

A soft laugh broke from Lando's lips, something warmer, something real.

"And Mommy always says we’ll get sick but you don’t care," Noah went on, as if this were the most important fact in the world.

"You say, 'It’s just rain, Noah. Rain makes us faster.’”

Lando’s throat tightened.

For a second, he couldn't speak.

Because in that moment, through all the noise and pressure and fear, his son had reminded him of something he’d forgotten:

Who he was.

Not just a driver. Not just a number on a screen.

But Noah’s dad. Your partner. Someone who could be brave when it mattered.

Lando reached out and pulled Noah into a hug, pressing his face into the crook of his tiny shoulder, breathing in the rain and the smell of his son — like grass and soap and home.

"You're right, little man," he whispered, voice thick. "It's just rain."

He pulled back, brushing wet curls from Noah’s face.

"And you think I'm faster than everyone, huh?"

Noah grinned, eyes lighting up. "You’re faster than everyone, Daddy! Even if it's raining forever!"

Lando let out a real laugh this time, warmth blooming in his chest.

He looked up to find you, standing there with your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, but smiling, tears quietly mixing with the rain on your cheeks.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and you gave him a nod — small, but enough to say we believe in you.

Lando stood, keeping Noah’s little hand in his, squeezing gently.

“Okay, buddy. I’m gonna win that trophy for you.”

“Yay!” Noah beamed. “But you can keep it for your shelf... if you want.”

Lando chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Noah’s head.

“No, I think it belongs in your room.”

Noah’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with pride, as though his father had just promised to conquer the world for him. In that moment, the rain didn’t feel so heavy. The doubts that had plagued Lando’s mind were still there, but the weight of them didn’t seem quite as unbearable with Noah at his side.

And you — your smile, your quiet support — made the world seem possible again.

As they walked toward the pit lane, Lando felt a shift inside of him. The rain wasn’t a burden anymore. It was a challenge. A reminder that no matter how many times life tried to knock him down, he could always get back up. Just like he always did when Noah ran faster than him, laughing, his tiny feet splashing through puddles.

Lando squeezed his son’s hand tighter.

"Let’s show ‘em what we’ve got, buddy."

With a nod from Noah and a final glance at you, Lando felt the familiar rush of determination surge through him.

This wasn’t just about the race anymore.

It was about being the man he promised to be — not just for himself, but for the ones who believed in him.

The Australian Grand Prix was shaping up to be a classic.

As the cars lined up on the grid in Melbourne, the drizzle had kept the track damp, just enough to keep the tire choices uncertain. It wasn’t the heavy rain that everyone had feared, but it was far from perfect racing conditions. Still, Lando sat in P1, his hands firmly gripping the wheel, his focus set on one thing: keeping that lead.

The McLaren car was well-suited to the conditions, and Lando had a good start. The lights went out, and he got off the line clean, his heart racing in sync with the growl of the engine as he took off into Turn 1. He held his ground, blocking Max, who was gunning for the lead, while Oscar — his teammate and the home hero — was hot on his heels in P3.

The track was slick, but Lando’s experience in these tricky conditions helped him build an early gap. His McLaren was light and agile, its handling sharp as he darted through the twists of the Melbourne layout. Verstappen, however, wasn’t far behind. The Red Bull driver was a constant shadow, ready to pounce at the slightest mistake.

By the first pit window, the rain had picked up a bit more, turning the track into a quagmire of uncertainty. Tire choices were a gamble — intermediate tires or full wets? The crew had to decide quickly, and they were calling for intermediates as the rain began to settle. Lando glanced nervously at the sky but held his ground. “Let’s stay out a bit longer,” he told his team, his voice steady but with a hint of doubt. Don’t get greedy, just don’t make a mistake.

Max pitted early, pushing for the full wets as he believed the track was getting too slick for anything else. He rejoined the circuit behind Lando, but it was clear he was closing the gap, his tires cutting through the water more effectively than Lando’s.

Just as the McLaren pit crew started to signal for a pit stop — the conditions changing rapidly — the first Safety Car period was called. A rookie crashed heavily into the barriers, bringing the race to a halt. Lando’s heart raced again as he followed the Safety Car. Was this a blessing or a curse? The rain had intensified even further, and the conditions were treacherous. Oscar, who had been showing great pace, was caught out in the slippery conditions, skidding onto the grass, and although he tried to recover, he struggled to get back on track in time. He was forced to return to the pits, ultimately falling back to P13.

Now it felt like a battle between Lando, Max, and the rest of the pack. But just as they prepared to go racing again, the rain poured down harder, the track quickly becoming a slippery mess. It was a delicate balance for Lando, who was managing the lead with grit and skill but was well aware that Max was waiting to pounce.

The green flag waved again, and the cars shot back out into the mix, Lando still holding off the charging Verstappen.

Lap after lap, Lando danced on the edge of control. Every corner was a fight, every moment a test of his patience and skill. The McLaren’s rear end was constantly sliding out, but Lando somehow kept it in line. He could feel Verstappen breathing down his neck, waiting for him to make a mistake — and then, it came.

The rain intensified in a sudden downpour, and the track became a slick, unpredictable nightmare. The tires couldn’t keep up, and the grip was nonexistent. As Lando tried to brake for Turn 4, his tires locked up, and he was forced to take a detour through the gravel, his heart nearly stopping as he fought to stay on the track. He got back on just in time to gain his way back to P1.

Lando was far from done.

He set his sights forward, telling himself to focus — just focus. The rain was lashing down, but with each lap, Lando found his rhythm again, using the high-speed corners to his advantage, keeping the McLaren planted while others struggled.

A second Safety Car came out as Jack Doohan spun into the gravel, and just as quickly, the race was halted once again. The field bunched up, and Lando’s mind raced. He could feel the pressure of it all — a season opener, a potential win slipping through his fingers as Verstappen loomed behind him.

And then, when it seemed like he was about to lose his edge, Lando had a moment of clarity. He’d thought about Noah — his little boy, his voice in his head, telling him, "You’re faster than everyone, Daddy."

Lando could feel his son’s words ignite a fire inside him. He wasn’t racing to prove anything to anyone else, but to show Noah, to show himself, that no storm, no matter how wild, could stop him.

When the Safety Car came in again, Lando took a deep breath. The track was as slippery as ever, but the fight wasn’t over.

Lando’s heart was hammering. He was in the lead, and with the final few corners in sight, he pushed his car to the edge. The track had dried just enough, but the pressure on him was unbearable. He took a deep breath and crossed the line with the loudest, most cathartic roar of his life.

Lando Norris had done it. He had won.

P1.

He couldn’t believe it.

The rain had made this race a battle of attrition, and as he eased into the cooldown lap, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

He slowly lifted his hand to the radio and spoke to his team, his voice shaky with emotion.

“Oooph! Little bit of pressure, well done boys. Beautifully handled. Excuted to the second. One second later and we were done so well done everyone. Congrats, amazing way to start the year. Thank you so much. This one was for you, Noah.”

The world exploded in cheers as the McLaren pit crew erupted, their joy a mix of disbelief and ecstasy. But through the noise, Lando only had one thing on his mind: you and Noah.

He couldn’t wait to share this with his little boy and with the love of his life.

Lando brought the car back to the pit lane. He could hear the roar of the crowd, the fans cheering from the stands, even as the noise inside his helmet began to fade. He blinked, trying to keep his focus, but his hands were still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. His chest felt tight, like he was trying to contain all the emotions swirling inside him — relief, pride, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

He had done it.

He had won. P1.

As the car coasted into the pit box, the team was already waiting. The McLaren crew flooded around him, clapping and shouting, their faces beaming with joy. But Lando barely registered any of it. His eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for the two faces that meant the most to him — you and Noah.

The cheering around him felt distant, almost muted, as if it wasn’t real. But seeing you, standing by the barriers, your eyes wide with emotion, was like a splash of cold water. The world around him snapped back into focus. He could see Noah next to you, bouncing up and down, his small face lit up with excitement.

Lando’s heart swelled.

He quickly removed his helmet, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and climbed out of the car. He could feel the weight of his win, but in that moment, it felt lighter. He was overwhelmed by how much this meant to him. It wasn’t just the victory, it was that he had made it — for himself, for you, and for Noah.

Before the team even had a chance to celebrate properly, he was walking toward you.

“Daddy! You did it!” Noah cried out, his voice high-pitched with excitement. Lando's eyes softened, and he dropped to one knee, his arms open wide.

Noah ran straight into his arms, as Lando hugged him tight, holding him close like he had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime. The rain still fell lightly, but it didn’t matter. All the chaos of the race, the uncertainty, the fear — it was gone.

“I did it, buddy,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We did it.”

“You’re the fastest, Daddy!” Noah exclaimed, his small hands grabbing onto Lando’s race suit. “I knew you were!”

Lando chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at his son. “You knew, huh? You were right all along.”

Noah nodded vigorously, his smile as wide as it could go. “You told me you were faster than everyone. And you are!”

Lando’s chest tightened at his words. He had said it to Noah so many times, almost as a promise, a reassurance that no matter what, he could always come out on top. He had made sure to tell Noah that on the tough days, on the days where it felt like nothing was going right, but now it was reality.

And it was because of you and Noah that he had found the strength to keep pushing.

Lando stood up, holding Noah in his arms as he walked toward you. The world seemed to slow as his gaze locked with yours.

You were smiling, but there was something else there — something that said “I knew you could do it”. You were just as emotional as he was. Your eyes glistened with pride, but there was a tenderness in your expression that made him feel like he was home.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Lando’s voice was rough with emotion as he reached out for your hand.

You nodded, your hand fitting perfectly into his. “I never doubted you for a second.”

He leaned in, his eyes soft as he looked at you — the weight of the moment hanging in the air. Without thinking, he pulled you into him, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was full of emotion. It was gentle at first, a quiet acknowledgment of everything he had been holding inside.

For a moment, time seemed to slow, and Lando could feel the joy and relief in that single kiss. It wasn’t just the victory he was celebrating, but the shared understanding between the two of you — the quiet support, the unwavering belief, the love.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a beat longer, as if he didn’t want to let the moment slip away. "I couldn't have done it without you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Noah squirmed in Lando’s arms, eager to get down and join the celebrations. Lando carefully set him down, and Noah immediately ran off toward the McLaren crew, who were cheering and clapping for the win.

As Noah ran off, Lando turned to you, the full weight of the victory finally sinking in.

“I didn’t think it was going to happen, not with the rain, not with Max so close,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I almost lost it.”

You smiled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “But you didn’t. You held it together, even when it was tough.”

Lando nodded, his heart full. “I had to. For you, for Noah. I couldn’t let this slip away.”

“You didn’t. And look at you now.” You cupped his face gently, your thumbs brushing over his wet skin. “You’re amazing, Lando.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the quiet moment before the world around him started to roar again. But it didn’t matter. He had done it.

The sound of the crowd cheering filled the air, and Lando turned back to watch his team. His crew was celebrating with Noah in the center, lifting him up in excitement. It wasn’t just his victory, it was theirs too. They had all worked for this moment, and Lando could feel the bond between him and his team, his family, stronger than ever.

As the team ushered him toward the podium for the celebrations, he couldn’t stop smiling. His eyes sought yours one more time, and in that glance, everything was clear. This was just the beginning.

As the excitement of the podium celebrations slowly faded, the atmosphere began to settle. The noise of the crowd dimmed as the McLaren team gathered to wind down, still congratulating Lando for his incredible win. It was time for the world to return to normal — at least for a little while.

The rain had stopped during the post-race celebrations, but the sky had once again darkened, and soon enough, the first raindrops began to fall, soft and steady, like a quiet whisper.

Lando was supposed to be getting ready for the press conferences, and Noah had been escorted back to the team’s area, his energy barely contained after all the excitement. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself standing near the pit lane, looking around, trying to spot them — Lando and Noah.

They had been with you just moments ago, but now, there was no sign of either of them. You checked the garage. No luck. You headed toward the pit, but nothing. The sound of the rain grew louder, and you could feel the cool droplets on your skin, the familiar scent of wet pavement filling the air.

As you were about to turn back toward the team area, you heard a familiar laugh.

You looked up. There they were.

Lando and Noah were standing near one of the back entrances to the track, the two of them laughing and completely drenched. Lando’s jacket was already soaked, but he didn’t seem to mind. Noah, in his little race suit, was jumping up and down, splashing in the growing puddles, his face glowing with pure joy.

Lando had both arms raised, pretending to be a goalkeeper as he blocked Noah’s wild attempts to splash him with water. They were in their own little world — no race, no press conferences, no podiums, just the rain and the playful chaos of it all.

And for a moment, it felt like everything had slowed down again, just like it had on the track.

You smiled to yourself, watching them. The rain didn’t bother them; if anything, it seemed to make the moment even more special. You could hear Noah shout over the rain, his voice filled with glee, “Come on, Mommy! It’s just rain! You can do it too!”

Lando caught sight of you, his eyes lighting up with mischief. He shrugged with a grin, as if to say it’s just rain, no big deal.

Noah ran toward you, water splashing with every step. “Mommy, come play!” He giggled, his face streaked with joy and raindrops. “It’s fun! Daddy says it’s just rain!”

Lando was right behind him, shaking his head in mock exasperation but his smile betraying the playfulness in his voice. “Come on, babe, it’s just a bit of water. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You could see the way Noah looked up at you with those wide, hopeful eyes. You couldn’t say no.

With a sigh, you gave in. “Fine, fine.”

You stepped forward, and in a moment of complete surrender, you joined them, letting the rain soak through your clothes as you took a running leap into the nearest puddle with Noah. The splash was enormous, and Noah shrieked with delight, running off to jump in the next puddle.

Lando joined you, laughing, as the three of you danced and played under the darkening sky, the rain falling harder now but somehow feeling like the perfect way to celebrate the day.

For that fleeting moment, there was no world beyond the sound of Noah’s laughter, the rain crashing down, and Lando’s teasing calls as he splashed you and Noah. The storm had come back, but instead of being a nuisance, it was the backdrop to a perfect family moment.

“Look at us,” Lando said between laughs, his hair soaked and his face flushed with happiness. “We’re all drenched and I couldn’t be happier.”

You caught Noah as he tried to leap into a particularly big puddle, lifting him up and holding him close. His wet hair clung to his forehead, but his smile never faded.

“This is the best thing ever!” Noah giggled, kicking his feet playfully.

“You sure know how to make a rainy day perfect, don’t you, bud?” Lando said, holding you close as you both watched your son’s joyful antics.

“Just rain,” you said softly, your gaze meeting Lando’s. The chaos of the day had faded into the background. What mattered now was here — this moment, with Lando and Noah, playing and laughing in the rain.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there just a moment longer. “It’s just rain,” he whispered, and for the first time today, you didn’t mind the rain at all.

[skullsfiction]

how do you spell bueutiful? | ln4

pairing: lando norris x manager!reader

summary: what are the odds of two dyslexic people dating?…pretty high apparently.

purposely made grammar mistakes, you’ve been warned!!! i fear i might’ve went a little off topic, but here’s this!!! mclaren are the champions, congratulations to my favorite sinister and evil orange team <33

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 428,916 others!

yourusername: oscar took me too diner and then made me pay…3/10 experience would not try again

view comments below!

user1: wait, are you and oscar dating???

user2: no because i’m confused too…is that him in the first picture?

user3: are you guys forgetting that oscar has a whole gf? that cannot be him

user4: but like…this looks like a bf appreciation post?

user5: she’s his manager, ofc she’s going to post him

user6: but are we going to deny that the first picture looks like soft launching 🤨

landonorris: i personally think that the first picture came of wrong, it probably is soft luanching but like no with oscar you know? i don’t know tho, just thinking, but probaly yeah…

user7: you said a whole lotta nothing buddy

user8: he had 3 grammatical mistakes in that sentence

user9: yn had 2 mistakes in her caption 💀

user10: aren’t they both dyslexic?

user12: i just love the way this conversation went

user13: that’s a lot of food for just 2 people 😏

oscarpiastri: to*

oscarpiastri: dinner*

yourusername: first you made me pay for your food and now your correcting my grammar? consider youreself BLOCKED

oscarpiastri: you’re *

oscarpiastri: yourself*

oscarpiastri: + you’re my manager, it should be your job to feed me 🤚

yourusername: my job is too get you contracts so YOU can put food on the table

oscarpiastri: to*

yourusername: ARGH LETS SEE WHO GETS YOU CONTRACTS JOW

oscarpiastri: now*

user14: okay you see i can’t tell if this is flirting

user15: girl 💀 oscar has a gf, they are most definitely just friends

user16: OKAY BUT WHO IS SHE SOFT LAUNCHING WITH

user17: imagine trying to soft launch and people think it’s the guy you manage

user18: it’s her fault honestly, this whole collage is basically saying ‘LOOK ME AND OSCAR ARE DATING’

user19: no you guys are just WERID.

landonorris: horrible soft launch, 2/10

user20: oh?

yourusername: shut up lando norris

landonorris: make me yn ln

user21: OH SO YOU GUYS ARE THE ONES SOFT LAUNCHING

user22: i'd sure hope so, or else yns bf should be feeling real confused right now

liked my landonorris, alex_albon, and 269,085 others!

yourusername: me (a dyslexic) when i realized that being a manger means reading hundreds of documents over and over again

view comments below!

user23: (a dyslexic) is taking me out

user24: I hope you are aware that you are great inspiration for me, (a dyslexic)

user25: alll jokes aside, how do you handle that?

yourusername: i take billons and billons of breaks 🫠 if i didnt i would go mad

oscarpiastri: billions*

yourusername: i have a gun

user26: still soft launching i see

user27: i still don’t think lando and her are dating, oscar and her all the way 💯

user28: how delusional does one have to be…

user29: you people make me want to rip my hair out!!! yn and oscar are NOT dating

user27: says who?

user29: THEM!! THEM THEMSELVES HAVE SAID IT

user27: and i’m just supposed to believe everything they say?

user28: i will kill you

user29: pls for the love of everything just post a picture of you and lando making out so these idiots WILL SHUT THE FUCK UP

liked by landonorris

user30: you guys need to leave these dyslexic lovers ALONE

liked by mclaren, lewishamilton, and 381,018 others!

yourusername: mclaren? sorry i only know 2024 consturcters CHAMPIONS!!!!

view comments below!

user31: constructors*

user32: y’all act like she can help it

user33: can you imagine getting correct on something you can’t help 24/7

user34: oh i’d be SICK

oscarpiastri: constructors***

oscarpiastri: jokes aside, thanks for your big part of this, i guess 👍

yourusername: oh you love me

user35: never being the allegations

landonorris: love hm?

yourusername: love love love

oscarpiastri: please stop you two make me feel awkward

user36: how do you think we feel

user37: everyday i fight off oscar x yn shipperd just for yall to pull this? sick i say, SICK

user38: i swear yn and lando are just playing with us, JUST SAY IF YOUR DATING OR NOT

user39: is just me that thinks it’s pretty obvious they’re dating?…

maxverstappen1: don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone you paid me off so i can back off and let mclaren win!!

yourusername: SLANDER

maxverstappen1: thank god your check cleared

yourusername: 1) of course my check cleared who do you think i am? 2) if i DID pay you off, it wouldn’t been for the drivers championship, not the constructors, duh 🙄

maxverstappen1: wow your admitting to THINKING about paying me off? FIA GET HER ASS

oscarpiastri: you would’ve paid him off to give ME the drivers championship, right?

yourusername: …

oscarpiastri: …right?

yourusername: ……

landonorris: the tables are turned 😏

oscarpiastri: you two are SICK we agreed that when you and lando started dating ME, OSCAR PIASTRI would come first. don’t talk to me, i don’t want to hear it

user40: oh

user41: no way this is how lando and yn make it official

maxverstappen1: i have created destruction, see you guys after the break!

user42: THIS IS SO FUNNY??

user43: weeks of soft launching and we get confirmation by oscar?? of all people???

user44: i don’t think i’ve ever seen oscar so emotional

user45: it just got so real

liked my oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 519,028 others!

yourusername: courtisy of oscar

view comments below!

maxverstappen1: this is max erasure! i’m the one who started the conversation :( give me my credit!

yourusername: are you serious?

maxverstappen1: yes…

yourusername: 😐 okay max, i give you credit for announcing my relatinship to the world!

maxverstappen1: thank you 😊

user28: @ user27 i don’t think that’s oscar! hmmm, who would’ve thought?

user46: oh he’s in LOVE

user47: the look in his eyes—omg i can’t

user48: my jaw stayed in place

oscarpiastri: courtesy** dummy

yourusername: WOAH

landonorris: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI, YOU TAKE THAT BACK

oscarpiastri: IM SORRY im still not over your betrayal

yourusername: you will always be my second choice for the drivers championship 🧡

oscarpiastri: YOU ARE MY MANAGER, I SHOULD LEGALLY AND MORALLY BE YOUR FIRST CHOICE

landonorris: how do you spell bueutiful?

carlossainz55: did you just try to call yourself beautiful?

landonorris: no? i called my girlfriend beautiful

carlossainz55: there’s no photos of yn here, it’s just you

landonorris: so?

carlossainz: so you just called yourself beautiful, or at least tried too

landonorris: hm. it’s okay, yn understands what i meant 🧡 right?

yourusername: yup…totally

oscarpiastri: she totally didn’t understand what you meant

user49: this whole relationship makes me so happy

[fangirlmermaid]

You are loved

Summary: After watching the interview and seeing how exhausted he was, you had to do something.

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Warning: sad Quinn, Boobs, kinda long, lightly proofread, Grammar and punctuation mistakes.

Note: We all saw this interview, right? The one were Quinn says that they aren't worried about making him happy. Yeah, I was hysterically crying.

You rewatched that part repeatedly, feeling pieces of your heart break each time. His voice was raw, as if he had been crying before the interview. He tried to joke about people not worrying about making him happy, but you knew the truth, even if he tried to hide it.

Quinn always tried to reassure you that he’s fine and that you don’t have to worry about him, but how can you not worry? You knew you had to figure out how to lift his spirits.

After picking up dinner from Quinn’s favorite restaurant, you placed blankets onto the couch and pulled up Netflix on the TV. You threw on one of Quinn’s shirts and took off your sweatpants. You placed the food containers and utensils onto the coffee table.

You dimmed the lights, creating a calm and relaxing ambiance.

You sat on the couch watching a show when you heard the door unlock, making you turn off your show ready to smother the crap out of your boyfriend.

Quinn entered the apartment like a zombie. His tired eyes landed on you. “Hi, pup.” You smiled, walking towards him. Quinn gave you a small smile, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug. “I missed you,” Quinn mumbled into the soft skin of your neck. Your fingers twirled the end of Quinn’s hair while your other hand rubbed his back.

You pulled away once you felt his shoulders relax. “Come on,” you softly take Quinn’s hand into yours.

Quinn was the first to enter the living room. “What’s the reason?” Quinn wondered, You tore off his navy blue suit jacket and threw it on the armchair. “Do I need a reason? Can’t I just do something for my amazing, hard-working, kind-hearted boyfriend? Who I’m very proud of,” You teased as you unbuttoned Quinn's Shirt, revealing his abs. Quinn gave a small smile. “Princess-”

You squint your glaring eyes at him; it was a mission of yours to show Quinn that relationships aren’t one-sided. “I think the words you’re looking for are thank you,” you whispered, throwing the shirt on top of his jacket. “Thank you, Princess,” Quinn chuckled.

Quinn stripped off his pants and shoes, leaving him in his plaid boxers. You gazed into your boyfriend's tired eyes, and another piece of your heart broke. You cupped his cheeks and placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After cleaning up the dinner, you straddled Quinn’s lap. “What do you want to do now?” Quinn wondered, his calloused hands snuck under your (his) shirt, and rested them on your hips. You looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think. “A movie?” “What movie?” “You pick.”

Quinn tilted his head, his eyebrows knitted together. “Princess,” Quinn mumbled, looking at you suspiciously. ”It can be an action movie or whatever you’re in the mood for.” You smiled, playing with the ends of his hair. Quinn knew what you were doing. It’s not unusual for you to care for him, but it usually happens when his team loses a game.

You pressed a soft, gentle kiss on Quinn’s forehead. You gazed into his eyes. “You know I love you, right? Like out of my mind, stupidly in love with you.” You stated, noticing Quinn blushing, “Yes, I love you with all my heart.” Quinn smiled.

“And I care about making you happy.”

That’s when it clicks for Quinn, you saw that interview were he said that no one is worried about making him happy. “Princess-” “Me first.”

Quinn gave you his undivided attention, as if there’s anything that would take his attention away from you.

“pup, I know that it seems like everything sucks right now and you feel so alone, but I’m here for you. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here for you…I’m here.”

It was as if something washed over inside Quinn; was it relief?

“I-It’s…” Quinn’s voice cracked, and you noticed his eyes began to gloss. You knew Quinn wasn’t really big on talking about his feelings, so if crying was his way to deal with this stress, then you’re more than happy to be his shoulder to cry on.

“I know…I know. Let it out,” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. Quinn shoved his face into your chest. “I-I try so hard,” “I know. Let it out.”

You felt Quinn's breathing become shaky, and it shattered your heart altogether. Your pup was giving his everything to his team. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like a circus animal.

You sat there running your fingers through the ends of his hair, repeating “it’s okay, let it out” like it’s a mantra. You place gentle kisses on the crown of his head.

Once Quinn’s sobs turned into small sniffles, you pressed all of your love into a lingering kiss to his forehead.

You cradled his jaw and gently moved his head towards your eyes as if he were made of glass. Quinn’s eyes were red and puffy, snot running down his nose. You placed soft kisses on the tears streaked on both cheeks. “I want to remind you that I’m always going to be in your corner. If you decide you want to stay with the Canucks then I’ll be at your games cheering you on the loudest. Or if you decide to join your brothers or any other team, then we will pack up our stuff and go together. Or if you decide to quit hockey, then I will have your back, okay? I will always have your back.” You reminded gazing lovingly into his sad eyes, Quinn gave you a small nod, feeling his heart swell.

He always heard stories of couples saying the exact moment when they knew they were each other's forever person. This is when Quinn knew that you were his forever person. He always had a feeling, but this moment confirmed it.

Quinn reached up towards you and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to your lips, the kind that was so full of love.

You pulled away, “So how about that movie?” You smiled, and Quinn nodded. You were used to Quinn going nonverbal when he was upset. “Star Wars?” You suggested knowing that he loved those movies, especially Revenge of the Sith, Quinn nodded.

You noticed Quinn staring at your chest. “What is it, pup?” You asked your boyfriend, who began to tug on your (his) shirt, “Oh silly me.” You softly giggled, knowing what he wanted. You pulled off the shirt, exposing your breast, and tossed the shirt next to Quinn’s clothes.

You put on the movie, you lie down on the couch. Once you got comfortable, you opened your arms for Quinny to join you. Not needing to be told twice, he lay down on top of you, shoving his face into the valley of your breast. Quinn pulled up the blankets so you wouldn’t be cold. Quinn placed his chin on your sternum. “I love you so, so much, princess. You really do own my heart.” Quinn smiled, scattering small kisses across your chest.

You watched the movie while lightly scratching Quinn’s head. Quinn would be going back and forth, making sure both boobs know that he loves them so much. You gaze down at him, noticing his defeats and stress fading away.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Tattered

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Mutant!Reader

Summary: Reader, Wade, and Logan decide to go out in the nearby woods to do some casual training. Once Logan and the Reader get to fight, things get heated and escalate. (Reader has a regenerative power as well)

CW: fighting, stabbing, blood, jealous!Logan, Wade being Wade, choking, biting, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie,

a/n: this is my first time writing for Logan. I am hella excited. Reader has a regenerative power along with super strength and nails that turn into razor sharp claws. Also sorry I don’t proof read, so grammar mistakes I’m sure

~~~

“Fuck— I don’t remember you being this strong!” Wade Wilson, a close friend and teammate of yours, coughed out. You had decided to do some casual training in the nearby woods, giving you all full access to throw down to your full abilities. You pinned him down with your hips, pulling a small knife from your holster. Hovering it above his groin. “Say uncle or you’re gonna be growing Wade Jr. back,” you grinned.

Wade gasped, “Baby Knife? You wouldn’t—“

You began pressing your knife into his pants, breaking the fabric as you inched closer to his favorite asset. “Okay- Okay! Jesus Christ and Mary— UNCLE! There I said it,” Wade held his hands up in between you showing mercy.

A deep chuckle was heard behind you.

Logan Howlett, The Wolverine, stood behind leaned against a tree. Watching as you and Wade fought back and forth for the last thirty minutes. You had taken a liking to Wade’s new roommate. Gruff and stubborn in nature, distant and aloof, but somehow still alluring.

You rolled off Wade, standing and wiping the dirt off your clothes. “When I said I wanted you in my pants, that wasn’t what I had in mind,” Wade stood up behind you. You threw the knife into his thigh, pulling a disapproving groan of agony from him. Silent curse words pouring from his mouth as he pulled the knife out, “I’m keeping this.”

“If you two are done flirting, I think it’s my turn to fight,” Logan smirked at you. He was incredibly handsome. Ever since Wade had came back from the Void with Logan, you had been infatuated. His dark hair, deep voice, everything about him was admirable. Especially right now as you watched him remove his flannel, sporting a white tank top underneath. The veins on his arms popped against the strong muscle. You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Aren’t you a little old to be fighting someone?” You teased as the new 200-year-old from another universe stood before you.

“Oh no, no, no. Me and this guy went at it all night the first time we met,” Wade chimed in. Logan gritted his teeth at him, warning him to watch what he says next.

“All night you say? Sounds like my kind of party,” you stretched your body, preparing to face off with the new guy. You watched Logan roll and pop his neck, stretching out his arms. Admiring his muscular physique.

“He’s got the stamina of a college freshman wired on Redbull and pure sex drive,” Wade patted Logan on the shoulder. Logan held up a fist to Wade’s face, claws extending mere inches from his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. You had your chance to fight, now leave,” he growled at Wade. Wade stomped his foot like a toddler, whining as he spoke, “Whaaaat!? No fair! You got to watch me fight Sexy Mutant Mamma, why don’t I get to watch the two hottest people in our building go at it!” You chuckled at his minor temper tantrum.

“Because you make everything weird! Now get outta here,” Logan held his claws under Wade’s chin pulling a small drop of blood from him. Wade spun on his heal, fists bundled up at his sides as he stomped away into the woods. Grumbling the entire way, “Not fucking fair. Wanted to see their clothes ripped off. Fucking fuck…”

You placed your hands on your hips, standing straight and firm before Logan. “So are we gonna do this or—“ Logan lunged forward at you, catching you off guard slightly. “Holy shit—“ you jumped before he could tackle you to the ground with his first attack. He dug his claws into the ground as he spun around to face where you were now. You opted out of grabbing one of your weapons. Deciding to go in with brute strength instead. You ran towards Logan, fist pulled back preparing to punch him. He grabbed your hand mid punch, twisting your arm. You kicked a leg up hitting him in the ribs. Logan’s claws extended, stabbing you in forearm. You widened your eyes at the three blades puncturing your skin, glaring up at him. You scratched up at him with your razor sharp nails, gashing his tank top and skin. He chuckled out, looking at his blood momentarily. You pushed him away, pulling his blades from your arm.

Your jaw hung open as you stared at him. A shit eating grin on his face. “Wade may be scared of you, but I’m not. I will kick your geriatric ASS,” you dove toward him, cutting at his legs with your hands. Ripping and tearing his jeans as you slashed at his flesh. Logan growled in pain before stabbing you in the back and picking you up over his head. Throwing you onto the ground. You were quick to hop back up to your feet. You caught your breath shaking off the pain you felt. Writhing slightly.

You darted back over to him, kicking at his leg causing him to fall to his knee. You then jumped and kicked him with both feet, throwing him onto his back. “Fuck!” He cursed at you. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist as you began punching him. You watched as his nose broke just to heal right in front of you. A cocky grin written on your face as Logan’s eyes stared into yours. Almost as if he was enjoying you on top of him. His arm flexed as he stabbed his claws into your thigh. You bared your teeth at him screaming in pain, “Motherfucker!” He lifted his other fist, releasing the claws right in front of your nose. “I’d hate to mess up that pretty face of yours, doll,” he teased. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Unable to deny how quickly his pet name went to your core. He slashed his claws down your chest, ripping your shirt.

You crawled off him, attempting to get away. “If you wanted to see my boobs that bad you could’ve just asked!” you playfully called back to him. He chased after you on all fours. You threw one of your small knives into his shoulder attempting to slow him down. He grabbed you by the ankle. Falling forward and smashing your jaw into the dirt. You tussled with him, kicking and swatting with claws. Cutting up his arms and shoulders as he tried to pull you back. Bruising strength as his fingers dug into your skin. His eyes were black as he stared at you, a lustful grin on his lips. He jumped forward pinning your body underneath his.

You shared in your panting. His claws dug into the dirt beside your head, the necklace he wore dangling in your face. Sweat beamed on both your bodies. Both of you bearing your teeth at each other. Your panting mouth slowly morphing into a grin, throwing your head back against the dirt stretching out your neck with a sigh. He cocked an eyebrow at you, your eyes darting back to meet his. He leaned down planting a feverish kiss on your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you deepened it. He pulled his claws from the dirt, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling your fronts flush. Sloppy kisses being exchanged between you, teeth clanking together.

Logan leaned back on his knees, holding you in his arms. “You sure do know how to fight, doll,” he cooed as his eyes stared at your chest. “Yeah? You ain’t too bad for a 200-year-old geezer,” you smirked. Logan grinned, raising an eyebrow at your mockery. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing at it as pushed you back slightly, “You and Wade sure do have one thing in common. Never knowing how to shut your fucking mouths.” You gasped with his hand on your jugular, smiling widely at him. “I definitely like your mouth a lot better,” he leaned in planting a kiss on your lips. Releasing his grip and pushing your hair out of your face. You caught your breath, hooded eyes staring into his hazel ones. His fingers petted through your hair, “Couldn’t stand to see you on top of him like that. Him having his little fucking hands on you.”

You had no idea Logan had felt this way about you. Sure there was flirting, but that was in your nature. You flirted with everyone, you assumed Logan was playing along. Catching him staring at you from time to time. Him lingering in your doorway before you headed into your apartment. Occasional pet names.

“Ooo, Mr. Jealousy,” you teased. He smirked above you. Leaning down and pressing his lips to your throat, sharp canines grazing as he lapped and sucked your skin. You tangled one of your hands in his hair, holding his head in place as he kissed your skin. Gentle moans falling from your lips. His lips trailed to your ear, “Sounds so pretty.” He pulled your lobe between his teeth. He had marked up your entire neck with hickeys and bite marks.

“Gotta make sure when we get back, Fucko knows to keep his hands off you,” Logan purred in your ear. Every inch of your skin was red hot. Arousal decorating your senses as you stared at the man before you. His hardening cock pressing into you through his jeans. You ran your hands down his chest, pulling a softness from him you had not yet seen. Hooking your fingers under his tattered shirt, lifting it over his head and leaving his chest exposed. Glistening torso with some of the firmest abs you had ever seen, hair on every inch. Admiring his body, fingers dancing delicately on the hair on him. Trailing down to his v-line, fingertips finding the cold metal of his large belt buckle.

Logan pulled your lips to his, kissing you like a touch starved man. Hunger painting his movements, teeth grazing your lip. His fingers tangled in your hair holding you so that your lips would not leave his. One hand ghosting down your side, going up under your shirt. Loving how your soft skin contrasted his corse fingers. Finding their place on your breasts, massaging them with his large hands. Pinching at the thin material of your bra, feeling your hardening nipples. You moaned into his mouth with his touch.

Your lips moved down to his neck, nipping at his flesh. Pulling a deep chuckle from him. A soft moan fell from his lips as yours worked down to his clavicle. His hand guided your chin upward, pulling your lips back to his. Fingers finding the button on your pants, undoing them and placing his hand down the front. Fingers massaging your lips, feeling your arousal glisten on his fingers. “Mmm, you’re so wet, baby doll,” he grinned widely. Your body rutted when he dipped his fingers into you. His name a moan from your throat. Thick fingers curled and massaged your insides, his thumb circling your clit.

You dug your fingers into his back as he continued edging you closer and closer. The tips of your claws penetrating his skin, a wince falling from him. “Easy, sweetheart,” Logan cooed. You mumbled sorry, focusing to retract your claws. One of your hands found its way to his bulge. Palming at his hard cock. Logan moaned at your touch, eyes black with lust as his heavy brow stared at you. You smirked, still a complete mess with his fingers inside you. You tugged at the waist of his pants. Pulling a smile from him.

“You wanna see my cock that bad?”

Electricity flooded every inch of your body with his words. “If I say yes will you fuck me?” You smirked at him. A wide grin painted his face. Raising an eyebrow with your words, leaning in to plant a kiss on you. “Mouth,” he jokingly called you between kisses.

Abruptly pulling his hand from your core and pushing you onto your back. You huffed when you hit the hard dirt. Eyes widening at him. Large hands finding the waist of your pants, pulling them down your legs. Ripping your panties off with them leaving your soaked core bare to the air. Legs shaking with anticipation for him. Logan stared at your core, tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight. Unable to control himself, delving down and immediately flattening his tongue against your core. You arched your back at the sudden sensation. Grinding your hips against his tongue. Lapping at your entrance like it was his last meal.

Climax building its way through every inch of you as his tongue pressed into you. Heavy fingers digging into your thighs. Deep hazel eyes looking up at you from your hips. The look of him pushing you over the edge. Orgasm washing over you. Your body convulsing and heaving as waves of ecstasy engulfed you. Shouting Logan’s name to the sky.

“There ya go, good girl,” Logan encouraged pulling away from your sensitive opening. You leaned your head back, squinting your eyes shut as waves of aftershock washed over you. The sound of a belt buckle hitting the ground pulling your attention back to him. And what a sight it was. Logan’s large cock curved upward right in front of you. A large vein popping out on the underside, the tip swollen and red and leaking with pre-cum, a bundle of hair decorating the area around it. A mouth watering image.

Logan snickered seeing you slack jawed staring at him. Fucking him with your eyes. Hands finding their place on the ground next to either side of your head, cock pressing at your entrance. All that was left of his clothes was that damn necklace. Chain dangling in your face as you admired the handsome, sweat soaked man.

Large hand positioning himself at your entrance, head delving into your walls slightly. Pulling a moan from you. Swirling the tip around causing your body to quiver, pussy still sensitive from your prior orgasm. Even just the tip stretched you as he pressed into you slowly. Soft groans falling from you.

“C‘Mon, I know you can take it,” Logan purred easing himself into you. You squinted your eyes as his cock begged to pry you open. The girth making you fear he’d rip you open. Fully sheathing himself inside your tight walls. His face contorting in absolute pleasure. Adjusting around his girth, thick cock stretching you perfectly. Logan eased his way back before thrusting back in. With each snap of his hips you moaned. Finding a fast pace in you, panting heavy above you.

You leaned forward placing your lips back to his. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Exchanging spit as you licked into each other. Teeth hitting as you deepened the kiss. Hands exploring up his chest, dancing up his toned body. Resting on his cheeks. Lust filled eyes staring into each other as he continued inside you. Slack jawed and breathing heavy.

“Perfect pussy,” Logan growled above you. Thumbs caressing his cheeks. A knot building up inside you that begged to come undone around his large cock. Feeling your walls constrict around him as he thrusted. Each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“Gonna fill you up, doll. Gonna be so full of me,” Logan panted into your ear. His back straightened as one of his hands found its place on your throat. A minor squeeze of flesh between rough fingers. Eyes rolling back into your head as you felt yourself preparing to finish. Thrusts grew sloppy and harsh, sounds of skin smacking together filled the air. Balls smacking into you with each heavy movement. His name spilled from you as you climaxed around him. Logan moaned loudly feeling how you squeezed him. Milking his cum from him. Shooting hot ropes of himself inside you. Hips rutting as he filled you full of his seed.

He remained inside you, feeling the way your pussy still wrapped around him. Occasional squeeze of walls from aftershock. Feeling him go soft inside you. Both of you wincing at the loss of sensation when he pulled out. Catching your breath as Logan helped with your pants. You sat up, admiring him as he got dressed. Logan looked over his shoulder, grinning as he caught you staring. Extending a hand to you and helping you to your feet, pulling you flush against his chest. Hand petting your hair as he leaned in and gave you a kiss. Silently smiling back and forth.

“So who won?” You joked. Logan rolled his eyes, “Don’t push your luck, doll.” You giggled at his response. Logan wrapped an arm around you as you both headed out of the woods. Loving the warmth of his body next to yours.

“Next time I won’t be leaving,” Wade’s cocky grin met you between the trees. Logan gritted his teeth. He stood with both hands on his hips watching the two of you walk toward him in your ripped and blood stained clothes. “Sounded like you guys were really going at it on the ground there. Sounded just like when I’d catch mommy and daddy having their weekly wrestling matches,” Wade raised his eyebrows. Your eyes darted up at his. Wade caught sight of the purple marks on your neck, laughing. “I didn’t know X-Men training gave you bruises on your neck too!” Wade cackled to himself. Wiping a fake tear from his eye as he sucked in a breath. “When’s it my turn for that kind of training, Y/N?”

You both ignored him, walking past him. You gave a good punch to his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Wade hunched over coughing. Logan leaned down whispering in Wade’s ear, “Jealousy looks good on you, bub.” Dropping a heavy elbow onto his head knocking him to the ground.

Logan hurried his steps to catch up with you, walking beside you as you headed out of the forest. Exchanging smiles as you walked home together.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I really love the response people had to the idea of this Fic so I’m more than happy to write it! If anyone has requests for Logan or any other characters, send them my way! If you are interested in being tagged in any future Fics, let me know! //

[tags]

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @megangovier ~ @darklover06 ~ @castle-of-ruin ~ @akumazwrld ~ @ravenn-darkholme ~ @laweona510 ~ @ivyinthesun ~ @eddiesguitarskills ~ @amandarobertsboyce ~ @urmom02 ~ @ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs ~ @yesi22 ~ @orangehairedbrat ~ @l0sercat ~ @introvertreader20 ~ @shoxji ~ @gingerplague ~ @porflenet

[rqnarok]

LINGER | 4,3k

old man!logan x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Being another mutant who survived Charles’ seizures, you are forced to live alongside Logan. The things between you and Logan goes on and off, fragile and indefinite—yet it always lingers.

TAGS AND WARNINGS: smut, mdni! mentions of blood, death, and grief (not logan), lots of angst but lots of fluff too, old man!logan x mutant!reader but unspecified mutation so it’s up to you! minor injuries, nightmares, miscommunication, kind of slow burning (?), pining, logan calls himself ‘old man’ several times, petnames, reader being called ‘kid’ by logan, unrequited love but actually requited (just angst all over…), logan howlett is bad at feelings, love confessions, virgin!reader, dirty talk, praise kink, p with little plot, fingering (f receiving), insecure!reader and insecure!logan, logan loves reader, unprotected p in v.

NOTES: not proofread! bello! ‘m not new to writing but new to writing fan fictions hehe! old man!logan is kinda my everything and this fic is kindaaaa self indulgent. listened to “linger” by the cranberries while writing this :0 feel free to send reqs and feedback to my inbox. this was mere my writing practice and my attempt to gain motivation in life. oh, sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes, eng is not my first language! hope this isn’t my first and last fic.. see u all <3 or not....:p

'Shamed what happened back in the East. 

A saying you heard but don’t know where. Even who said it. Still, you remember all of it—their cries of death, their pain, their suffering. 

A haunting vivid memory in X-Mansion, where all of your friends are lying on the ground, in pain—and you could not do anything. You just watched. In pain, too. There was a thought which you think that it was the end. You were already accepting it with open arms, welcoming your exit.

Then your mutation saved you from your fate. Your survival, at the price of grief. 

“You’re doing it again.” 

Jolted by his comment, you dart your eyes away from the road and into your lap. “Do what?” You mutter quietly, not sure if he even hears it. 

But he always does. “Never mind.” Logan sighs in the damp air. You both know it is better not to talk about what exactly happened back then. Talking is not what you two are best at either. “I asked you a question earlier, you hungry?” 

“A little, yeah. Yeah.” Your gaze sways to his driving figure: how his right hand grips the steering wheel way too tightly, how his soft blue shirt is all wrinkled, how his tired eyes look with those heavy eye bags, and the grey hairs all over his untrimmed beard. He looks worn out. But so are you.

The two of you have been doing this for God knows how long. Wandering from one place to the other with Charles in the backseat. Looking for a place to settle but not really looking for it either. It’s simply a suicide travel. 

He makes a turn towards a cheap-looking diner on your left. 

Northern Mexico. 

A place where you both decided to settle indefinitely. Alongside Charles, who lives in the abandoned smelting plant not so far away. Logan takes up a job as a limo driver in El Paso and every time you tell him you don’t want him to be so far away during the daytime, he always says: One of us has to earn the money, kid.

Kid. 

To this day, after time living together, you aren’t sure of the nature of the relationship between you and Logan. Companions? Friends? Strangers?

Well, one thing you are sure of is you are not his adopted child and he does not see you in that way, either. He sees you in the same way he sees Charles, as his responsibility. 

Before all this, you were aware of him: what he looked like, his mutation, his reputation. But you do not know him personally. You passed him once or twice in the hallways after your studies. That was it. 

All of a sudden, he’s all you have. The only other sane mutant you are fully sure, survived Charles’ seizure. Still, you two weren’t friends before and sure aren’t friends now. In this shared house, you and Logan are strangers—forced to live together on the sole base of sentimentality.

Deep down, you know there is something more. Something vulnerable, down there. Something fragile. There are moments like where-

Your thoughts are frozen by the sudden creaking sound of the front door. The sight of Logan all bloody and bruised entered your wandering vision. The book you were reading is now abandoned as you get up from the comfortable sofa. 

“W-what happened?” Rushing into him with quick movements, this is not the first time he returns all beaten up but it is still a blow to you every single time. You can’t stand the thought of losing another person in your life, even if you convince yourself that he is a mere stranger. 

His white shirt has reds in many parts, and he’s bleeding all over the house, “Some fuckin’ kids tried to mess up with the limo. F-fuck.” With the blood smeared all over his hand, he managed to get into the shared bathroom, his breath coming out short. 

“Wait!” You rushed to his figure with an aid kit in your trembling hands. He slouched forward, cursing himself. Gently, you wrap your arms around him before he falls and help him lean his back on the white tiles behind. 

He shakily opened the buttons of his shirt and you could see everything. While you grab all you need and start cleaning his wounds, he looks at you with his half-lidded eyes. The intense gaze that always makes you want to shy away from him—you are not so sure why. 

After a while, you kneel beside him and break eye contact, “Did you kill them?” you question him carefully as you tread his wounds. Not sure how he would answer tonight. 

Logan grunts when you touch one of his nasty wounds, still looking at you,  “No. But you should see them.” 

You feel uncomfortable at his reply, retreating your hands and facing the mirror, looking down at the sink, “I don’t want to see them, Logan.” At some point, as you search around for more supplies to treat his injuries that still haven’t healed by his mutation, you break down crying. Out of your realisation, you have been holding back your worries and sobs since you saw him. 

Logan, who notices this, pulls you abruptly into him and seats you on one of his thighs. “Hey, hey, why y’crying huh? Hm?” 

You hate this. You hate how you suddenly cry at the sight of him, at the reminder that this is all finite. His big calloused hand starts rubbing up and down your back, gently shushing you. You hate how he knows you all too well by now. 

“I told you to stop doing the job. I-I told you that this… this would happen. I’m always scared. I thought— ” You let out one big sob or whimper, you’re not so sure. Not when he’s cradling you in his arms like this. “You can’t heal like you used to, you can’t barely–”

“Hey, shh, pretty girl,” Pretty girl. You blush at that. “I’m here with you now, aren’t I? That’s all that matters.” He shushed you oh, so tenderly. Such a paradox could live inside a man like him. Logan forces himself to smile, “Aren’t I? Come on, feel me up.” Logan sits you up straight on his lap. 

He always does this. Giving out, you delicately place both of your hands on the sides of his face, feeling him up. He watches you brush around his greying beard while holding your waist in place, drawing circles on your skin. “There ‘ya go. I’m here.”

When you feel calm down and tired, you rest your heavy head on his shoulders, “Maybe I should take a turn going to town–” 

He cuts you off while lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him right in the eyes that you were trying so hard to dodge. Without him saying any words, you know he is saying no. Your assumption is confirmed when he shakes his head slightly, looking down at you sternly. 

“It’s just me and you, Logan.” You say meekly and defeatedly. 

“Exactly. That's why it’s gotta be me, baby.” 

Moments later, you continue mending his cuts. And moments after that, you’re both lying together on the bed. Holding each other in slumber. Your head on his chest, his hands on your back. 

Through these delicate moments, you know him. That he is not simply a stranger to you. That this means something more. 

But he does not talk about those moments. Which makes you feel like your perspective is an illusion that you made by yourself, untrue. A false memory that you created in your head because you do feel something for him. 

In the morning, you wake up alone. Logan is nowhere to be seen around the room. Only traces of his scent are left on the white sheets wrapping around your figure. 

When you open the bedroom door, there he is. Sitting on the kitchen chair, his slouched back facing you while he sips on his black coffee which he secretly hates. He likes the coffees that you frequently make for him more. You don’t know that. He never told you. 

“Logan?” you call out to him. But he didn’t budge away from reading the newspaper. As if you weren’t there at all. As if moments like last night never happened. As if it’s true that you are merely a responsibility to him. A burden, even. You hang your head low at his ignorance and retreat to your room.

Such a paradox could live inside a man like him. 

Other moments happened too. One afternoon, his phone suddenly rings while he is out visiting Charles. With all the self-control you have, you try to ignore it, ignore everything that connects to him because it upsets you. But your curiosity gets ahead of your mind and you pick his phone up. 

“Hello?” you place the thing on the side of your left ear. No sound, nothing, nada. Before you know it, you feel a presence behind you and Logan is looking down at you with that look again. 

Snatching his phone away from you, not so gently, he mutters, “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my stuff, huh?” The way he remarks and the way he looks at you makes you feel small and embarrassed. These are the moments where he is not going to cradle you in his arms–you know that. 

Your eyes darted to the floor. The lines on the wood oak floor suddenly seemed very interesting, “I’m- Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. So I thought–” 

“You thought? What? You have the right to?” Logan cuts you off before you finish your poor excuse of explanation. “You have your own pile of shit and I have mine. Stay out of my shit. You understand?” 

Sometimes there are sparks of rage inside of you that make you gain bits of confidence, “Well, we technically live in the same place, so–” 

Though, Logan quickly dims off that spirit by not letting you finish, “Understand?”

You limit yourself to a nod in agreement because you don’t trust your voice. Confusion often fills up your body to the brim. These are the moments you hate. How he treats you differently at one time and another. You hate how he makes you so weak. You hate how he has you wrapped around his fingers. You hate that you don’t have the same effect on him. 

“It’s not your fault, darling.” Charles reasons you one time when you visit him for weekly check-ups. “That man has issues! Even after all these years, I still could not fully understand him and his... complexities.” You force your lips to quirk up a little and pretend as if you justify that, too. But you're in so deep.

Weeks after weeks, it went on like that. You, confused. Logan, indifferent all the time. You miss his touches. Was it just a game to him?

Paralyzed, the color red clouded your vision. You see bodies lying everywhere, dead bodies. The room smells like dread. With what is left, your power manages to slow down the pain that rushes in you. Protect you from the incursion. 

Here, there is no way to hide. Their cries echo through the halls. Their screams still haunt you. 

If you could have saved yourself, you could have saved them too. But you watched them die.

You watched them die. 

You watched them die. 

Inside the dark of your room, you did not realize that you had been thrashing and screaming in your sleep. The nightmare came to you again. Grief shows through in the form of tears, flowing into your cheeks as you open your eyes in fear, “I let them die, I let them die, I let them die–” 

“Sweetheart?” a voice comes from outside your room. Near but so far away.

You kept repeating those words until a figure finally came up in front of you, Logan. He calls out your name, “Hey, no, no–” Now he is touching you all over, trying to stop you from moving rapidly and hurting yourself in the process. Sitting you in front of him and making you face him. Closing your eyes for a brief second, your chest heaving up and down, you remember again and you panic, “I-I watched them die–” your voice wavers. 

“No, shh, keep those eyes open. You’re okay. I’m here.” His hands hold your face and his thumb brush off some of the hair in your wet cheeks. 

“I could’ve saved them. They were dying, they were in pain–” You cry out as the scene on that day played out again. Daunting and haunting you without your consent. Always lingering around on the back of your neck. Only one person knows what it feels like.

Logan’s eyes soften while he remembers that bitter memory too, “So were you,” His voice coaks out, soothing you, “So were you. ‘s not your responsibility.”

At this, you put your arms around his neck and grip him tightly, finally comprehending what is happening. “Calm down, baby. Logan’s here. ‘M not leaving.” He hushed you back to your senses. 

After minutes of him comforting you in silence, his eyes dart to your bleeding lips which you bite to stifle your sobs. With much surprise, Logan parts them and caresses them. Looking at them then back at your eyes, then at your lips again. Your foreheads are now touching and you find yourself nose-to-nose to him.

In your chest, your heart beats so loudly that you fear he may actually hear it. Then with that look that he gives you again, every logical thought and pride you were trying to build, collapses inside you, making you putty in his arms. As you always do. 

But tonight, something more is happening, “Logan.” You managed to call out his name in a whisper, begging for something. He feels the same way too, “I know, baby. I know.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any signs of discomfort as he starts to kiss each one of your cheeks. He tells himself repeatedly in his mind, “No, not her. Anyone but her, you dipshit. You’ll lose her if you do this.” A belief that he has been telling himself every day.

What you don’t know about Logan, after all this time, is how he is afraid that if he touches you, if he shows you his feelings, you will be gone from this world. If he cares about you, he will lose you. He is in fear that the cruel world will take you away. As it always does to people he cared.

Bad shit happens to people I care about. And he managed to hold onto this thinking and compose himself every time.

Until now. 

Your whimpers and pleads get to him–he cannot hold back anymore, he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. He peppers your face with kisses, everywhere but where you need him the most, your lips. “L-Logan…” you feel your face getting hotter every moment. “Ah, p-please–”, you greedily grind your lower body onto his thighs. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He groans while breathing all over your face, “You have no idea what I would do to you, the shit I’d do for you.” One of his hands gets under your nightgown and he succeeds in squeezing your tit. “Ah!” you squeak in surprise and quickly get embarrassed when he chuckles at the noises you make. 

When your gaze meets him, the force can no longer be stopped. What you both try to bury deep down, what you two were locking away in a box, is bolting itself abruptly. The thumps of his heart match yours. There is no going back now.

While breaking a promise, he makes a new promise to himself: that he’d protect you before all the bad shit happens. He will not let any of it get to you. 

After a brief staring contest and lingering doubts, he loses himself, mutters ‘Fuck this shit’ under his breath, and locks his lips on yours, melting you completely into his embrace. You gasp into his mouth and tighten your hug around him. His tongue finds yours sensually as he cradles your head to deepen the kiss. It was the first time he kissed you. 

“It’s just you and me, kid.” He blurted out against your mouth and you could not conceal your smile. Whatever you both were trying to suppress, it’s now roaming free in liberation. 

His mouth grins at your reaction and before he can stop himself, he confesses, “‘M sorry for how I acted these days. This old man was so fuckin’ afraid of how things would turn out.” 

You were about to say it’s okay but he continues, “But he will try his best from now on. What d’ya think? Hm?” Logan looks over at you hesitantly, afraid of what you’d reply. His ‘confession’ does sound way better in his head, when he practiced beforehand. You didn’t know that, of course. 

A giggle went out of your lips, “I think I’d like that.” you say breathlessly before kissing him again. 

Our brain is meant to be effective. It is not designed to be right at all times. Well, sometimes we are right, but we experience the wrongs more. What we thought we knew, we don’t. What we thought we didn't know–maybe we do. Especially about another person and their feelings. Similar to what you thought Logan Howlett feels. 

Following that night, things had changed between the both of you. The ‘boundaries’ separating you two are torn into pieces, in a good way. Now you are reminded by the nature of your relationship through everything. When he comes back home to you every day, when he puts his arms around you while you are cooking dinner, when he kisses the crown of your head before sleeping, when he fixes your favorite kitchen chair, and many other whens. 

Including now, when he kisses you so roughly and gently at the same time, fueled by the desire he kept while he was still stubborn back. Logan hiked up your dress until he could feel your breasts, pinching one nipple.  “Missed you– missed you so much today.” He says while kissing down between your chest and your stomach, “Missed this,” somewhere in between. You are not so sure. 

“Tell me, did you miss me too, Little Missy?” Logan, who is kneeling before, tilts his head upwards so he can see your face. You cover your blushing face, shying away from him and his question like you are used to, “You know the answer.”

He picks you up from the kitchen with one hand and puts you down on your shared bed, “Oh, you don’t wanna say it?” You shake your head in an attempt to tease him. Lying down on your back and with parted legs, you can feel his rough beard while he kisses your inner thigh. “Aight' then, we may just see it.” 

By seeing it, he means ripping your white underwear, the one you adored the most and has a pink ribbon, “Shh. I’ll buy you another one.” Logan quickly says before he can hear your protesting remarks.  

“Really liked that one... ah!” The tip of his tongue probes your entrance without much warning, lapping up and down your cunt. “See, baby? You missed me so much. She’s dripping here.” 

You feel embarrassed with how he is looking at you down there as if he is inspecting you. Unconsciously, you try to close your legs slightly. Logan does not like this as delivers a soft spank to one of your butt cheeks. “So shy all the time when it’s just your old man.”  

Now, his rough hands are gripping each one of your thighs and keeping you in place. His tongue lapped at your pussy—from your hole to your clit, circling and sucking until you can feel his beard slicked up by your juices. Whimpering, your hands desperately pull at his hair, pulling him closer and closer as if he isn’t already eating you up. 

He chuckles darkly when you whine pathetically at the movement of his one thick finger entering your wet hole. “Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He huffed and looked up at you with pure animalistic need as his fingers worked your walls, hitting that gummy spot that had you crying.

“Please! P-please—Logan. Want you inside,” This plead makes Logan stop his actions and glance up at you, questioningly. You weren’t sure about a lot of things, but you are sure about this. “‘M ready, pleaseplease…”  

Logan has been denying you his cock for who knows how long. All this time, he gets you off by his mouth, thighs, fingers, anything except his cock. He always has an excuse, “You’re not ready for me, baby.” Or “This ain’t about me, kid.” Or “My old bones are too tired today. Next time, yeah?” Each one of them frustrates you. 

Your virginity is making him hold himself back. You know this, he knows this. Deep down, he still thinks he is a filthy man who does not fully deserve you and that he is ruining you. He thinks by not penetrating you by his cock, he gains some sense of decency but he really is just unsure. Not about you, no, never. About himself. 

But when you look at him with those big eyes while sprawling yourself bare to him, how could he deny you? “Are you sure? Fuck. Can’t hold myself back anymore.” Logan takes off his crumpled white shirt, undoes his belt, and tosses them away, making a clinking sound that echoes through the room. His eyes grew dark with raw desire as he brought down his pants and fists his large cock in his hand. All while looking at you. 

“Yes! Please, please, give it to me. ‘Can take it!” You snapped with excitement and lean up, pressed a kiss to a part of his greying beard—the older man grins at your eagerness. “You’re going to be the death of me, pretty girl.” Logan lifts both of your legs and puts his mouth on your mound once more, making sure that you’re ready and you haven’t changed your mind.

Between his hunger licks on your pussy and the probes of his thick fingers, he mutters, “I fuckin’ love you.” And that statement itself makes you cry out his name and come all over his fingers and tongue, “L-Logan!”

“Atta girl.” You arch your back in a euphoric state of your orgasm. He could smell you. Every part of you. “So beautiful. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

He helps you remove every fabric you had on, your pretty white sundress, your bra, your socks—everything that is separating you and him. Now you and he are completely bare, “All this for your old man, huh?” He mumbles the rhetorical question into the chilly air, his hands ghosting over your perked nipples and pinching them softly, then kisses each one of them. He goes down on you again and kisses your clit one more time. 

The sight of him makes your breath caught in your throat. You swallow your spit at the look of greying bread glistening with your cum, at the sight of his thick cock springing against his stomach. “Is my baby ready for me?” You nod your head eagerly at him, assuring him that this is what you want. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself between your bodies, “Use your big girl words, darlin’” He nudges at your already wet entrance, waiting for your response, taking his time with you. 

“‘M ready..! I want this, want you.” You pamper kisses all over his face the same way when he comforts you during your nightmare. His forehead meets yours and he kisses your lips gently as a form of understanding your needs. “Hold on t’me, my sweet girl.” 

Then his tip slips inside and you gasp into his mouth, “Good girl. My good girl. You can take it.” You tighten your grip around him as he pushes himself deep inside you, “D-Doing so good, baby. Just a little more,” down to the hilt—his cock bottoms out, “There ya’ go, princess.” Logan coos at your trembling state. 

He swallows your moans with a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring the insides of your mouth. “Feel so fuckin’ good. I fuckin’ love you.” There he says it again while he pulls himself all the way out to just the tip, then all the way back in—making you throw your head upwards.

Logan growls and kisses your bare neck, leaving some marks on it but you don’t care, in fact, you want him to. “I love you too, Logan.” You utter those words to him as he rams into you, his thrusts going faster and faster as he loses himself watching you. The friction of his cock against the velvet walls of your cunt is addictive, the pleasure makes the older man grunts. 

He thrusts harder, his hips slamming into home, the sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room, alongside your little ah ah ah's . 

"Cum for me, baby. Come for your old man." With one final, powerful thrust, he releases inside your tight heat, his warm seed filling you as he curses and lets his head fall onto your embrace.

"Ah!" You shudder as you clench tight around him and milk his cock. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your body giving out of control as you experience another release of the night. 

Logan lifts his head to scan over the scene before him. He had never seen anything like it and he had seen a lot of shit. Your figure is all fucked out and filled. He didn’t think anything could be more beautiful than what he has right now. And he says it again before bringing his lips into yours, “It’s just you and me.” 

You tiredly return his kiss and look at him with a soft smile, “It’s just you and me.” 

His meaningless and plain life becomes something again because of you. You are the anchor of his life and his reason not only to stay but to fight and protect. 

Logan knows there are things that can be stopped, but then there is love.

He is in so deep too. This time, the both of you willingly let it linger. It’s just you and him.

[xoxomilesteller]

motivation

professor!beau arlen x fem!reader | MDNI

cw: teacher x student dynamic, unprotected p in v (no balloon no goon), cockwarming, cursing, pet names (darlin’), some kinda bdsm tie ins, this ones actually tame, p2 to this!

wc: 1.6k

def has grammar mistakes!

since the last time he’s fucked you, he hasn’t stopped. beau has invited you over multiple times to his house to fuck you. but it’s a bit different than just the casual hook up. he first cooks for you, then he’ll watch a movie, touching you and kissing you. then he’ll actually fuck you, take his time, make you come at least twice, and clean you up. then he’s the sweetest person ever. he really makes sure that you don’t feel just used.

there’d be times he just wants your presence there, like today. he’ll call you over just to hang out, kind of.

he treats you like a reward. when he’s busy, he’ll keep you close or just talk to you, but he won’t touch until he’s done, something you’ve observed.

but you actually need him today. bad.

beau is in his office, glasses on and grading papers. his shirt is unbuttoned halfway, tie is untied but loose around his neck, sleeves rolled up.

so in response, you walk up to his desk, laying flat on it, covering his papers. your skirt is splayed out, breasts spilling out of your tank top, legs crossed and arms over your head.

“darlin’,” he chuckles and attempts to removes the papers from under you but they won’t budge, “i have to grade”

“do that later mr. arlen,” you roll your eyes, lifting your head to get a better look at him, “do me instead,” your voice is monotone

beau whistles, “first, what did i say ‘bout you callin’ me by my teacher name?”

“sorry beau,” you tease. you liked calling him his work name, it’s fun seeing him all stressed

“much better,” he leans back in his chair, “second, we’re impatient, aren’t we?”

“this,” you arch your back to grab the packet of papers from under you, “can wait. i can’t”

he snatches the packet from your hands, “yeah i’m startin’ to see that darlin’,” he rakes his eyes over you, taking your body laid out in front of him in.

beau doesn’t know how he even got here. one day he fucked you after your retake, the next few weeks he’s having you over at his house. you make his cock twitch, you test his patience, and you give him one helluva fun time. not just sex, but even just talking to you, he’s entranced. he doesn’t know what to do with himself. he wants something more, but you’re his student and he doesn’t want to take advantage of you or make you feel uncomfortable.

so sex it is. you like it, he loves it.

but he just groans, “i will when i’m done gradin’”

you sit up, skirt covering nothing, “i can help,” you say with an innocent smile that you know makes his cock throb 

“like hell you will,” he mumbles and crosses his arms over his chest, “how would you help me darlin’?”

you slide off of his desk, onto his lap, “this is distractin’,” he whispers, his voice heavy

“just wait,” you reassure, pushing his glasses up his nose for him.

you rock your hips on his lap, his fingers crinkle the paper and you feel him hardening under you. he places his parted, soft lips on your chest, peering up at you through his glasses while giving you wet kisses.

“y’can’t jus’ tease me like this,” he nips at your skin

“i’m giving you motivation,” your lips graze the prickly hairs of his beard, “so you can just focus on me instead”

an idea pops into beau’s head, “turn ‘round f’me,” he orders

you pout, “no i wanna see your face”

“jus’ do it”

you stand up, turning your back to him. before you can settle down on his lap, his hands slide up your skirt, removing your panties and watching them fall to the ground. you gasp with excitement and relief, thinking he’ll finally fill you up, the way you love it.

he undoes his pants, keeping a hand on your hip so you don’t turn around. he spits on his palm and strokes himself, biting down on his lip. then he leads your hips down, tip prodding your entrance which makes goosebumps rise on your body.

“always s’wet f’me aren’t you?”

you nod, moaning once he settles you down on him. he rolls the chair closer to his desk, his thick tip hitting your spot at each gentle movement.

he rests his chin on your shoulder and places both hands on his desk, returning to the papers he has to grade. you take it as a sign to start moving your hips on him.

the second he feels you shift, his left hand flies to your thigh, holding you down, “you’re just keepin’ me warm, keepin’ yourself full,” he whispers in your ear, “none of that nonsense ‘til i finish my gradin’”

you whine, clenching your thighs, earning a groan from him, “please”

he flutters his eyes closed, tipping his head slightly back, “no, get used to this”

the statement makes your walls clench

“fuck,” he moans, hips slightly jerking

“bea-“

“get used to it baby,” he mumbles into your neck

after a few minutes, you actually did get used to it, well, used to him being inside of you and gaining control over your body. you distracted yourself, reading over the papers he’s grading. right now the current topic in his class is women’s sexuality, and the empowerment that comes from it. he’s asked you questions every now and then, using his palm to cover the answer on the paper to see if you’re actually reading or trying to distract yourself.

it’s a mix of both.

it’s genuinely hard to focus on anything else, besides his thick cock inside of you, just stilled. you want to grind on him, bounce on his cock, make him come, but there’s something intimate about this that you like. it’s not entirely sexual. he’s still teaching you, making sure you know the topic. he’s keeping you close, trying to keep you somewhat satisfied, a compromise really. it’s all intensifying, like you’re hyper aware of everything pertaining to beau. his chest rising and falling against your back, the warm breath coming out of his nose that hits your chest, how he uses your neck to push up his glasses when they fall: overall, there’s more than just his cock.

“back then, in the 1900s, women were forced to suppress their sexuality, correct?” he whispers

you nod, “correct, cause of many factors like religious teachings and patriarchy,” you turn your head to look at him, his head still resting on your shoulder. 

”patriarchy,” he repeats

“‘submission is not a virtue,’” you quote his words, which he raises his brows in surprise, “‘cause having the choice to is more powerful, right?”

he nods, “correct, same goes for obedience”

“which is different from submission?” your voice wavers, still not fully confident

beau kisses your shoulder, “absolutely correct, obedience usually comes from fear, feelin’ obligated to do somethin’ ‘cause of fear, submission, you’re jus’ givin’ up, handin’ someone else the wheel ‘cause of trust”

“‘obedience is expected, submission is chosen’,” you quote him again

“good girl,” he whispers, smiling when he feels you clench around him, “what’d you learn today?”

you hum, “what you just said”

he chuckles, “from this,” he rolls his chair back, his dick finally moving inside of you

you grip onto his hands, mind going blank from that one singular movement you’ve been craving.

“well,” he kisses your neck, moving his hands while yours rest on them to your hips, “i hope that i taught you somethin’ ‘bout yourself. you didn’t have to listen t’me, but you did,” he moves your hips forward, then back, “you suppressed your desire, because you chose to, correct?”

all you can do is nod, mouthing falling open at the deep and slow rhythm

“did you enjoy suppressin’ it?”

you shake your head, moaning

he moves your hips quicker, groaning when he feels your nails dig into the backs of his hands, “why not?”

“not used to it,” you pant out, “in the end, i liked it”

“yeah?” he grunts, “you submitted to me, doin’ it though you didn’t like it,” he mentions, “obedience would be me threatenin’ you by sayin’ you can’t come unless you talk t’me,” he explains, his fingers gripping onto you tight, “why would that be?”

your mind and heart are racing, thinking about your approaching orgasm, anythingbesides his teachings. but that’s a side you don’t want to see of him, him being mad and punishing you, not that you’d know if he’s capable of that.

he is, but he’s a professor.

he has patience.

“‘cause then i’d feel like i have to talk,” you manage to say, but your voice is unsteady

“good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, moving your hips harder when he feels your entire body tighten up on top of him, “wanna know what i learned?” he asks, and you nod, your face scrunching up, “that you trust me”

you nod, dragging your nails down his hands, “please?”

he kisses your jaw, “you don’t gotta ask, let go”

at his words, you come undone, hips jittering and nails clawing so hard that you make him bleed. he follows shortly after, shooting deep inside of you, which has become normal since he found out you were on the pill.

both of you lean back, you resting your weight on him while he rests on his chair, “when i asked you what you learned,” his voice is hoarse, “i was askin’ ‘bout yourself, not my lesson, but this,” he pulses his fingers, massaging the sore flesh of your hips, “was a part of my lesson, glad to see you learned somethin’”

AN: part two yayyyyyyy i love professor beau

banner by: @cafekitsune

tags: @redhairedgardenfairy

[albaqae]

@ ALL RISE FANS THAT MAKE COMICS & STORIES

So I’ve noticed that in this fandom it’s common to include Deaf/ASL-using-characters into stories, which is honestly AMAZING and makes me SO HAPPY TO SEE, but many of us aren’t deaf we rely on resources, therefore:

My ASL teacher gave us this website cause it’s updates constantly (ASL evolves lots) and it’s a lot more accurate and reliable than just google :))

To work it- type the word, and a word bank will pull up, click on the term u want and a video/description of the sign and word will appear!!!

It’s rlly simple and has most words and if it doesn’t it’s bc it’s finger spelled probs!!!!

If u want more in-depth good grammar, search up “five parameters ASL”, “glossing in ASL” and watch a few videos to see “how sentence structure differs in ASL”

As always, remember it’s ok to make mistakes/notice a mistake, just be mindful and kind :D most of us aren’t out for malice and if someone is it’ll probs be very obv 😭

Happy Creating!!

Edit: A THANK U SO MUCH FOR THE REBLOGS :)) if anyone ever needs any help drop a comment or look at other reblogs!! There’s lot of other resources/tips there!!!

[lovecoatedwords]

Bad nights (part two)

A/N: hi everyone!! Bad night was the first ever fix I posted and I am very glad everyone liked it so much!! I wasn’t expecting more than 20 likes? But this is crazy and I am overjoyed! This took me a lil while since I started working on this request I got which is a very interesting idea, but thank you sm <333

p.s: I reread this 3 times and used grammars for spelling mistakes if there are still any, do tell me!

Summary: Remus got clingy cuz of the full moon, James lost a match, Sirius has problems with his parents and you aren’t well. How Will this situation turn out?

Read bad nights part one, here

The tension in the room only deepened after Remus pulled back, He was always the calm one, the one who understood the unspoken language of their relations, but today, with every emotion piling up, even he was slipping.

You could feel the heat from his body as he stepped away from you, the silence hanging in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Your stomach churned in response, both from the physical ache and the emotional weight of everything around you.

James finally broke the silence, though his voice was very much with frustration. "I get it, Sirius," he said, barely holding back the anger in his tone. "You’re upset, and I’m upset, but don’t act like you have it all figured out." His hand clenched into a fist by his side. "This—this whole thing—it’s not just about losing a match, alright? It’s about everything. Every bloody thing that's been piling up lately." He paused, glancing at you as though the weight of his next words was too much to carry alone. "It’s about her. About how she’s always there for all of you, and… I can’t even seem to be enough for her."

Your heart squeezed at his words, but before you could say anything, Sirius snapped. "Enough? Enough? What about me, huh?" His voice cracked an that made your chest tighten. "I’ve been fighting off my mother’s poison for years, I’m constantly keeping my own demons at bay, and I’m the one who gets left behind! She’s always there for you, James, and for you, Remus. Always comforting you, holding you up, and I’m just… just here, trying to keep my head above water." His face was twisted in anguish, eyes wild. "And all I get is the scraps—the leftovers."

"That’s not fair!" Remus’s voice was raw, , "You think I want to cling to her like this? You think I’m not aware of everything she does for me? But I need her, Sirius. I’m barely holding it together after last night—" His voice wavered, and you saw the raw hurt in his eyes as he turned to you for comfort once more, even as he fought back his own tears. "I’m not asking for more than what she can give. I’m just asking for her to be there when I can’t be there for myself."

Sirius's glare softened for a split second before he snapped again, his frustration morphing into something darker. "Yeah, well, we all need her, don’t we?" he spat. "But it’s always you, Remus. It’s always you who gets the comfort, who gets the attention. And I’m just supposed to wait in the damn hard moments , pretending I’m fine when I’m falling apart inside." He was pacing now, his voice rising with every step. "I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when she’s the one holding everyone else together."

The words hit harder than anything you could have prepared for, and it was like a pressure released in the room. You knew he didn’t mean it like that. You knew he wasn’t blaming you specifically, but the weight of it settled over you like a suffocating wall. You wanted to shout at him, to tell him that you weren’t some object to be fought over, that you couldn’t be everything to everyone, but the words wouldn’t come.

"You think I’m okay?" James's voice cut through, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and hurt. "I’m the bloody Quidditch captain! I’m supposed to lead everyone, make everything perfect, and now I can’t even—" He stopped, voice cracking, fists clenched at his sides, looking away from both of you as if his words were too much to handle. "I’m so sick of failing."

s. That broken crack in James that you had never seen before. You wanted to walk over, to hold him, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but as soon as you moved, Remus took a step toward you, his eyes pleading, like he was afraid to lose you in all this madness. and Sirius’s hurt eyes, his unspoken plea, were just as raw.

But your body was betraying you. The nausea was getting worse, and the headache was growing more unbearable. You couldn’t hold on any longer.

“Stop,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady as you stood between them, your hand resting on your stomach. "Stop. All of you. I… I can't do this anymore."

The room went silent, and for a moment, everything stopped.

You felt tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, but you held them back. "I’m trying so hard for all of you. I can’t be everything. I can’t be the one you all lean on all the time." Your voice was shaky, but you pushed through it. "I… I’m struggling too. Do you not see that? I’mtrying, I’m hurting, and no one’s even asking if I’m okay. All I do is try to hold everyone else together, and no one sees it until I’m falling apart. I just… I need… I need a break."

You didn’t give them time to respond, didn’t let them apologize or tell you it was fine. You turned on your heel and walked away

But in the quiet, as the seconds passed, you realized something. You weren’t the only one struggling,It was time for them to see that.

And you weren’t sure if that would make them love you less, or more.

Read the next part here!!

alright so I think part three will be out more soon and will be the final part!!!!

taglist: @almostjollypizza @setayeshmohseni @navs-bhat @treefairy-28 @may-madness @ameliaweasley @maysrain @reggieswriter @meowmeowbby @hiireafstuff @flowerytombx @hcqwxrtss123 @unstable-cucumber @aleatorio1234 @penned-musings @plk-18 @iheartpieck @livia7137 @liviessun @eeviee4 @marvelsmarauder @amatoanima @minejungwoo

[chuuyasheaven]

“LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU, ‘KAY?”

SUMMARY : after a rather heated argument prior, chuuya realized that he was in the wrong and now wants to apologize by making it up to you.

TAGS : c. nakahara / fem. reader, soft! chuuya, oral (fem. receiving), pussy worship if u squint, praising kink, slight cursing, he’s enjoying this more than you bro 😭, short and lazy, grammar mistakes, cliffhanger cause it’s almost 2am, also we’re jumping right into the best part, etc.

NOTES : since there aren’t any new chuuya fics rn, especially with this trope, i came to deliver a lil something 💯

Chuuya slowly sunk to his knees until he was at eye level with your crotch, his hands roaming from your thighs to the waistband of your shorts, pulling at them until he finally slid them down along with your panties while never breaking eye contact with you. You were still kind off mad at him because of a few hours earlier but you couldn’t deny how attractive this was— Chuuya, who hates admitting he’s wrong most of the time, swallowing his pride and kneeling in between your thighs to make it up to you for being wrong— god, it turned you on more than you’d like to admit.

His arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he planted soft kisses on your inner thighs along the way to your glistening folds. “I’m sorry.”, he’d mumble in between kisses as he finally reached his destination, his hot breath hitting your wet pussy. Chuuya looked up at you as he licked the first stripe along your folds, tasting your juices and making you gasp out softly. It didn’t take long for him to get addicted to the taste and put in more effort than he probably should’ve, but you didn’t mind anyway, too busy moaning and gasping out softly. “F-fuck.. Chuuya—”, you choked out softly, arching your back slightly as he continued to lick and eat your pussy like he was a starving man— like it was his last meal.

“It’s okay, baby. Just let me do all the work, ‘kay? You’re doing so good f’me, princess.”, he cooed softly before diving back in, feasting on your soaked cunt. You bit your lower lip, muffling out some moans before Chuuya sucked on your clit, making you gasp out as your mouth fell open slightly. “Don’t hide your moans from me.. Wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make, doll.”, he mumbled against your folds, sending slight vibrations that— quite literally— shook your core, making you moan in a much whinier tone as you nodded. Chuuya’s eyes flickered upward and he smirked, kissing your clit softly. “Good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, hm?”, Chuuya praised as he went back to eating you out like his life depended on it. It didn’t take long for you to get close with his skilled tongue, your walls fluttering around his tongue as you grabbed his hair softly, pulling him in deeper. That only served to turn Chuuya on, making him harder than he already was. His dick twitched in his pants as he felt your walls fluttering around him again, he swore he could cum in his pants from the sight alone— your blissed out face, your sweet, sweet moans filling the room and your grip on his hair? Oh yeah, he was definitely as close as you were. “Chuuya— ngh.. s-so close.. g-gonna—”, you cut yourself off by a particularly high pitched moan, Chuuya now doubling his efforts to make you reach your peak. “Yeah? You close? You gonna cum from just my tongue alone, baby?”, your grip on his hair tightened as you could already taste your release on your tongue, your moans getting whinier and higher pitched. At the last flick on your clit, you finally busted on his tongue, letting him taste your sweet, sweet release.

anyways sorry if this is ass but i NEEDED to make this

[satellite-evans]

Monaco, baby!

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: In all the noise of Monaco, Lando chooses the quiet with you—and that’s how he wants to remember the win.

Word count: 1.7k+

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

Baby won in Monaco, so so so proud of him🥹

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sky over Monaco blushed in hues of peach and lavender, the last hints of sun sliding into the sea. The harbor sparkled with life: music from deck parties floated over the water, champagne corks echoed like distant fireworks, and yachts were lit up like they were hosting royalty — which, in some ways, they were.

But on your boat, things were still.

There was only the sound of the water gently tapping the hull, the hum of a low engine in the distance, and Lando's soft breathing beside you.

You sat cross-legged on the cushioned deck, a hoodie that clearly wasn't yours draped over your shoulders, sipping slowly from a tall glass. Lando was stretched out in front of you, his head resting on a rolled-up towel, hair still damp from jumping into the water an hour ago — fully clothed, naturally. He claimed it was "tradition." You knew he just liked to make a splash.

You tilted your head toward him, eyes lingering on the familiar curve of his jaw. “You do realize you're supposed to be partying right now, right?”

His eyes flicked open, already smiling. “And I am.”

You raised a brow, teasing. “No offense, but this is, like, aggressively tame for someone who just won a Grand Prix in Monaco. I thought I'd be chasing you through three nightclubs and trying to stop you from dancing on tables.”

“You have stopped me from dancing on tables before,” he pointed out, grinning.

“I didn’t stop you. I just... strongly discouraged it after the second tequila shot.”

“Same thing.”

You chuckled and nudged his leg with your foot. He caught your ankle without looking, gently tugging you closer until your legs were draped over his lap. He held you there with a loose hand, warm and familiar on your shin.

“Be honest,” you said after a pause, studying him, “why aren’t you out there? Partying with your friends? I told you I wouldn't mind. This is your moment, baby.”

Lando glanced toward the horizon. The city's lights shimmered like a distant carnival, wild and unreachable from here.

He was quiet for a second longer than expected — just long enough for your heart to skip in that way it sometimes did, even after all this time.

Then he sighed, fingers tracing slow, lazy lines against your leg, like he was sketching a thought he hadn’t quite figured out how to say out loud.

“You wanna know the truth?” he asked, not looking at you at first, voice low and a little rough around the edges — like it had been waiting a while to be said.

You nodded, your own breath catching a little in your chest.

Lando shifted, sitting up slightly and propping himself on one elbow.

“After everything — the podium, the press, the noise — there’s always this moment,” he began, eyes on the water now, “where it all starts to feel... hollow. Like I’m watching my own life from the outside. Everyone’s shouting and smiling and toasting and I’m just... standing there in the middle of it, smiling too, but feeling like none of it is actually touching me. Like I’m made of glass, and it’s all just bouncing off.”

He paused, his jaw tightening just slightly — not in anger, but in effort. Like he was trying to find the exact words that matched the feeling.

“And all I want in that moment,” he continued, “is to find something real to hold onto. Something that reminds me I’m not just the guy in the suit or the name on the board. I want to feel human again. I want to find the quiet in the noise of it all.”

You blinked, your heart thudding harder now, and your throat suddenly became too small. “And you chose me?”

That got him to look at you.

He reached over, brushing a knuckle gently down your cheek. The touch was maddening in its tenderness, his eyes locked on yours with a kind of quiet intensity that made the rest of the world fall away.

“I always choose you.”

There was no hesitation, no embellishment — just those four words, spoken like a vow. Like something etched into him long before tonight.

Your heart clenched, painfully and sweetly all at once. It was such a simple thing to say, but he said it like it was everything. Like it cost him nothing and meant everything.

Lando leaned back again, settling beside you, gaze turning upward. The sky was darker now, scattered with stars that seemed to blink just for the two of you.

“I love racing — you know that,” he said after a beat. “I love the team, the speed, the madness of it all. Hell, I even love the stupid glitter confetti they shoot in my face on the podium. But after all of that? After the chaos and the champagne and the million people telling me how amazing it all is?”

He exhaled, long and slow, like he was letting go of something.

“I don’t want to chase the next party. Not anymore, I guess. I want this. You. A hoodie that’s two sizes too big for you. That weird drink you made me earlier that tastes like fizzy herbs and regret.”

You scoffed, nudging his leg. “It’s called a spritz, thank you very much.”

“It’s called weird,” he teased, lips quirking into a smile — but then it faded again into something gentler, quieter. “But it’s us. And I’d rather celebrate like this, with the one person who sees me when the helmet comes off. When the spotlight fades. When it’s just me.”

You didn’t respond right away. You didn’t need to. The weight of his words settled between you, heavy but warm — like a blanket pulled up around both of your shoulders. Like a truth neither of you had said aloud quite like this before, even if you’d both always known.

“You’re getting mushy on me,” you said eventually, trying for lightness, though your voice was thick with affection and something deeper, more vulnerable.

Lando sat up, pulled you into his lap without warning, wrapping his arms around your waist. His chin came to rest over your shoulder, and he let out a low, contented hum like this — being here, holding you — was the only thing grounding him to the earth.

“I’ve been with you for what, four years now?” he murmured, lips brushing against your hair. “You know I’m legally allowed to get mushy.”

“You’re also legally required to keep being annoying at least once a day,” you countered, resting your hand over his forearm, thumb tracing idle circles into his skin.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, a grin audible in his voice. “I have a quota. Wouldn’t want to break my streak.”

You smiled, eyes slipping closed as you leaned back into him.

“Hey,” he murmured after a long stretch of quiet, his voice barely above the hush of the water against the hull. His nose brushed the curve of your neck as he shifted, and you felt him smile against your skin. “Do you remember that first night in Monaco? You stayed in the paddock with me until, like, 2 a.m., going over race data — and you weren’t even working that day.”

You laughed softly, the memory blooming in your chest like a light switched on in a room you hadn’t entered in a while.

“Of course I remember,” you said, tilting your head slightly to rest against his. “You kept making dumb jokes about how DRS stood for ‘Don’t Ruin Sunday.’”

He pulled back just enough to give you a grin, smug and unapologetic. “Solid joke. Still stands.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was too much fondness in your voice to make it stick. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I knew that night. I didn’t say it — didn’t even really let myself think it out loud — but I knew. If I could choose anyone to be around when the noise faded… it’d be you.”

That made your breath hitch, just a little. The kind of shift you only noticed because everything else was so still.

You turned to look at him, slowly, like you didn’t want to break the spell of the moment. The lights from the city shimmered behind him, casting golden flecks over the water, catching in the soft brown of his eyes and making them look like they were lit from within.

“I knew too,” you said simply.

There was no grand declaration needed. No crescendo. Just truth — quiet and solid between you.

He leaned in, pressing a slow, certain kiss to your lips — not a post-race high, not a public display, not the kind of kiss that belonged on magazine covers or in fan edits. Just him. Just you. Loving each other in a way that didn’t need witnesses. A kiss that said I’m here. I’ve always been here.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours for a second, like he wanted to remember this exact expression on your face, this exact breath between you.

Then he smiled — that soft, crooked smile that only ever really showed up when he wasn’t performing for anyone else.

“Next year, I’ll win again,” he said with quiet confidence, like it wasn’t even a question.

“Oh?” you teased, eyebrows raised. “Already planning it?”

“Yep,” he said, the grin widening just enough to show he wasn’t entirely kidding. “And I’ll be right back here. With you. Same boat. Same weird drink. Same hoodie that you’re never giving back.”

You smirked, pulling the oversized hoodie tighter around yourself, inhaling faint traces of his cologne still lingering in the fabric. “Damn right I’m not.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest where it pressed against your back. One of his hands found yours, lacing your fingers together — his thumb tracing gentle patterns along your knuckles like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

And just like that, the city kept spinning. The champagne still flowed, the music pulsed across the water, and somewhere out there, a thousand flashbulbs were going off in celebration.

But none of it mattered.

Not when he looked at you like this — like you were the calm in his storm, the stillness after the flag dropped, the only thing in the world that didn’t blur when he was moving too fast.

This — you — were the win that mattered.

And he’d never stop choosing you.