#and she saved it by just being her and asking him to keep her company on a road trip and that was enough

[basim-ibnishaq]

Miguel gifting Xina a gumball machine as a thank you, and a goodbye considering how suicidal he was at the time, is constantly on my mind

[longagoitwastuesday]

Gushing about Gojo and Megumi and how they are or could have been everything to me I forgot to mention that I really really really love Yuuji. Like, a lot

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Big Fish in Gotham Pond

Based off of @saphushia art found here. . I just loved the idea of Tucker not knowing his skill level because he grew up in the boonies

Tucker gets scouted by Wayne Enterprises after he fixes a kid's computer game while in Gotham visiting Danny.

See, Tucker always known he is passable at tech- one has to be when a technology theme ghost is consistently harassing one's best friend- but to be good at something in a small town like Amity Park didn't mean much .

It's a big fish in a small pound sort of deal. That's why he's never put much thought into it. If Tucker were ever to rank himself in terms of school grades, he would say his computer skills were about a C-.

B+ if it was just coding.

His parents also don't think much of his obsession with his PDA or phones. They thought he waste too many hours on them like the rest of his generation.

It didn't matter that Tucker's technology was about five or more years behind his classmates.

The Foley were hard-working people who barely scraped enough for bills. They were never below the property line, but they danced on it often enough that Tucker knew never to ask for unnecessary purchases.

For as long as he could remember, his parents have always worked long and hard hours. He never blamed them for missing so much of his childhood, in fact he was grateful that they worked so hard to keep the roof over his head, but he did miss them.

That's why Danny's house became a haven for him. He was always at the Fenton's place because the loud, wacky family was much better company than the home silence.

Tucker knew that his family's financial situation didn't change how Danny or Sam viewed him. They had his back through tick and thin just as he did for them, but as they got closer to graduation the difference between them became jarring.

Sam had easy picking of what she wanted to do and where she wanted to go. Her parents were so overjoyed that she wanted to go to a university that they didn't even argue about her wishing to major in botanical biochemistry.

She had started house hunting in Star City midway through senior year. Her parents would gift it to her as a graduation present. Sam would live there for the next eight years to finish her degree.

Danny's parents, while somewhat eccentric, were also certified geniuses. Between the two of them, they had five PHDs and were often freelancing for companies when not doing ghost research. They too could send their two kids to college States away with housing not being a issue.

Jazz went to Metropolis to study Physiology. She lived in a small apartment but was doing well off her scholarships and parent's funding. Last he heard, she had a part-time job at the Daily Planet as a research assistant to gain some independence.

Danny wanted to go to Gotham for their engineering program. He, too, had an apartment of his own, with scholarships and equal funding from his parents. He also worked at Wayne Enterprises, but he was a receptionist. He hoped that once he graduated, he could apply for their engineering program

Not Tucker. His family could only help him get into Community College near Amity. He also couldn't afford to move out so he stayed with them, picking up a part time job to help out when he could.

Tucker is a first-generation college student so even though it wasn't much, he loved to see how his parents glowed when telling others their boy was futhering his education. He wanted to do something that paid well- and after years of patching up Danny- he figured nursing would do the trick.

Tucker would do all his basics in the community College, take a break to save up some money and then move on to the bigger schools.

The day of the graduation felt bittersweet. Team Phantom was finally adults, finally starting out in the real world, but while Danny and Sam moved on to bigger and better things, Tucker knew he would be left behind in little no-where Amity Park.

He never brought it up, but he felt a small dosage of envy the last day of summer before his friends finished packing and left.

Despite both being gone, Tucker had little to no social life even though they called, texted, and emailed often. His days blurred between class, work, and home. Even then, classes were long and tedious, work often ending with one or more customers screaming in his face to try and get free food.

His parents quickly started to nag that he should find a wife as they had married young. They couldn't figure out why he didn't want the same, even though he had no social life again.

Life became dull.

Tucker's only sparks of joy were playing online with Danny and Sam - when they found the time to log in or re-coding his old tech to try and salvage it whenever it broke down.

Soon, it became apparent that Tucker was slowly lacking motivation when he started skipping classes to sleep in and started feeling anxious when he needed to clock in for shifts.

It leads to him barely getting out of bed.

He felt horrible about it, thinking his parents sacrificed so much for him only to have him throw away the opportunities they gave him, and the cycle of not being able to get out of bed would start all over again.

It was Danny who caught on, and all but begged Tucker to come to Gotham for a weekend. He even sent money over for the plane ticket.

Tucker couldn't have gotten on that plane fast enough. He arrived early on Friday since the tickets were cheaper- and Uber over to WE headquarters to pick up Danny's keys as they agreed.

That way, Tucker could sleep and rest in the apartment while Danny worked.

Danny would finish his shift and have the weekend plus Monday and Tuesday off to spend with Tucker. When he arrived, Danny was helping a school check in for a field trip, so Tucker sat down to wait.

Next to him, a kid was growling at his laptop, frankly typing and moving his fingers over the computer's touch mouse. Tucker accidentally glimpsed his screen when the kid started swearing in a different language.

It looked like a shooting game but his lag was bad. By the time the boy pressed the buttons to have his little drone move the other flying things he was chasing were flipping though the air and out of his shooting rage.

It sucked when that happened, and since he was using WE free wifi for guests, it was probably the game. The graphics were badass, though. Seemed almost real.

"Hey try updating the system" He tells the kid after seeing the boy once again lag so bad he missed his shot.

Green eyes swing to him drenched in rage. Which yeah, Tucker knows how frustrating that could be.

"Did I ask for your help!?" The boy snaps, his words lined with an upper-class accent. Made sense since he was wearing a Gotham Academy uniform like the rest of the large school group. "Why are you even looking this way, peasant?"

"No, sorry. I just noticed the lag." Tucker raised his hand, slightly amused at the peasant insult. "I thought I could fix it for you."

The boy's face spams, "You believe you have the ability?"

"Ugh sure? I can try?"

"Here. Be quick. The fate of this city's air defenses depend on it" the boy turns his lap top to him and Tucker blinks.

Okay. So fix the game. He can do that.

And he does, quickly opening the code, analyzing the control and commands , he gets it running properly in less then twenty minutes. The boy seems utterly shock but he quickly takes control of the game and shoots down all the escaping ninjas from the sky.

"Thank you." The boy says with no more tense in his shoulders. Then he closes his laptop and dissappears with the crowd of students.

Tucker thought the kid was a cute.

Danny hands him the keys not long after and he leaves.

Never was he aware of the Boy being Damian Wayne and that the game was not a game but a actual defensive drone system that was fighting off the League of Assassins.

He only finds out how important those two facts are when Danny gets a call from Tim Drake asking if he could pass along Tucker's information because the CEO wanted him on staff as soon as possible..

Both nineteen-year-olds lost their minds after getting the call, screaming at each other in ghost shrieks of glee. They called Sam to let her know- and have her lawyers look over the contact Tim Drake sent just to make sure it wasn't a big-time company trying to screw him over.

He went to an interview three days later. He faced Tim Drake, the current seventeen-year-old CEO, Leo Noir, the current head of HR, and Jessica War, the current head of computer services. They asked him many questions about himself- some of which he felt he had answered terribly- then had him take a computer test.

Tucker thought it was busy work, so he quickly breezed through it. He fixed the problem in many of the coding for various programs, adding his flare to the final product, and after thanking them for their time, went out into the lobby.

He hadn't even reached the door before Jesssica ran after him, offering him the job. Apparently, the first two problems they had him do was the busy work. Tucker had thought they were the ones to let him get comfortable with the coding program.

Like a tutorial in video games.

The other seven were actual issues; many of their latest cellphone products failed. Tucker had solved them in an hour, which had taken the actual team of coders about a month.

"Nitey one dollar and thirty-five cents an hour," Tim tells him tapping the hiring contact. "It would be eighty hours every paycheck. You can work here or at home. Full Benefits. What do you say?"

Tucker's jaw drops. "When do I start!?"

He calls his parents to tell them he will be staying in Gotham with Danny. He tries to explain what had happened but it was all so fast that he can only babble about certain parts.

They tell him not to worry about explaining because they understand how much this means to him.

His parents help pack everything for him and when he flies back for it they, offer him hugs and support. Tucker is so glad they aren't mad.

"I sort of knew it was coming," His dad laughs. "You and that Fenton boy have always been inseparable."

"I did the same thing, you know," His mom says, wiping tears from her eyes but smiling all the same. "I moved with your father states away with little to no plan when I turned twenty too. Drove your grandfather mad."

He loves them both so much. He promises to send money- disregarding their denials- and flies back to Gotham, where Danny has opened his apartment until he gets enough for his own place.

He plans on renting a house with three bedrooms, one for him, one for his office, and another for Danny, as soon as he can. He wants to pay his friend back for everything he did and Danny deserves a bigger living space.

And for once, he'll not have to worry about money!

For once, life is looking up!

(What Tucker is unaware of, is that his parents think he moved to the big city to be with his childhood best friend turned recent lover. They don't know that the money he is sending home is from his own payroll and not Danny's. They think he's a stay-at-home husband.

Tucker is also unaware that the Bats are closely watching him in case he goes rogue. They have been slowly "causally" running into him in the city and breaking into his place to check for supervillain activity.)

[chxrryhansen]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍

Pairing; Dark!Rafe Cameron x Innocent!Reader

Warnings; CNC!!!! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. smut, extremely dark themes, unprotected sex, public sex, choking, drugging? (rafe manipulates reader into snorting a line) degrading terms (slut, whore) loss of virginity, tiny bit of blood, breeding kink, size difference, daddy kink, dumbification, dacryphillia, no aftercare!! i think thats it? Minors please DNI!!!!!

Summary; Based on x.

authors note; i really thought about never finishing this because i just haven’t had the motivation or wanted to write in quite a while. but i’ve been neglecting you guys! so i tried my best to finish it, however i literally hate this fic so much so please don’t come at me bc i know its shit😛 its around like 1.3k words so… take it or leave it ig.

“Hey, so uh, you come here often?” The boy says, rubbing his nose with his right finger while motioning with his beer filled hand to the party further down the beach.

Your friend had dragged you to one of the weekend bonfires at the beach, kooks only of course. Which is exactly what you were, a sheltered, spoilt, kook. Right down to the core.

Your family had given you everything you ever wanted growing up, paying for homeschooling from the best private tutor on the island, buying you whatever the new pair of heels on the market was, but that never deterred your sweet heart.

You weren’t a prude and even though you were, you didn’t act spoilt, you appreciated everything your family did for you. You didn’t have many friends considering the private life you lived. Your best friend was your neighbour, both of you having grown up together, your father and hers both being in the same business really tied the strings in your friendship.

She was quite the opposite of you, partying every weekend, hanging out with boys and drinking to the point she was incapable of walking. Long story short, she had begged you to come, a promise of a sleepover and movie night afterwards.

Except that wasn’t the case. Within 15 minutes she had found a new man to latch onto, leaving you sitting by yourself on a wooden log infront of a small campfire someone must’ve ditched.

You looked up, a tall muscular boy with a backwards cap staring down at you, his pretty blues lighting up in the reflection of the fire. You didn’t answer him, being too caught up in the flare of his strong presence. His aura was engulfing, your body instantly being drawn to him.

You didn’t know it of course, but Rafe did.

One look at your pretty face and the sweet scent of your purity and he just knew he had to have it. A smirk appeared on the boys face as he took a seat on the log next to you, his eyes never leaving your own.

“Gonna’ answer me, sweetheart?”

“Uhm, n-no not really, it’s my first. My friends around here somewhere… not sure where she went.” You murmured.

Rafes smirk widened, how blessed he was to have stumbled upon a sweet, innocent, little bunny like you.

“S’okay. I can keep you company. Name’s Rafe.”

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a little white baggie filled with a powdery substance. Noticing your stare he asks “You want some?”

“What is that stuff?” you mumble, knitting your eyebrows together in confusion.

“This shits the good stuff, s’ like powdered sugar. Gets you feelin’ real good, one line of this and you’ll feel on top of the world, sweetheart.” he smirks moving closer to the point your knees touch, yet his eyes still don’t leave your own.

“C’mere, lay back a little.” and do you do.

Without question.

Which of course stirs Rafe’s dominant instinct, he just cant stop thinking about shoving you onto your knees and fucking your throat til you choke on his fat cock.

But he’ll save that for later.

Rafe proceeds to pour a little powder onto your chest, sitting perfectly above your perky tits. He then reaches into his pocket and picks out a bank card, then using it to create a smooth line on your chest.

He moves in. Snorting the line right off your tits. A tingly feeling appeared in between your thighs. The sensation of his hot breath on your chest making your own increase.

He leans back and looks towards the sky, his curtains framing his face as he does so, lifting a finger and closing a nostril he sniffs deeply, sighing in relief afterwards. “See, easy as that. Your turn, beautiful.”

“M’kay” you shrug.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Rafe shifts on the log, lying down on his back and spreading his lets wide. He repeats the process on his abs, pouring the coke, creating the line and then ushering you forwards.

“Remember. All you gotta’ do is cover one of your nostrils, and use the other to sniff it right up. You got that?”

“Mhm” You nod excitedly.

“Ah ah ah. Use your words.”

“Yes Rafe. I got it.” You whisper, your pretty doe eyes staring up at him.

“Good girl.” He groans as you begin to snort the coke from his abs. His cock is painfully hard which obviously you didn’t notice, his pre cum leaking from his swollen tip, desperate to have your soppy cunt wrapped around it.

Within 5 minutes the drugs had hit you.

Your head was spinning and your control of your own body wavy, your movements restricted.

“I-i feel kinda fuzzy. Don’t like it…think i’m gonna’ go home now.” Rafe debates begging you to stay, but a better plan crosses his mind.

An eery smirk appears across his handsome features. “How about i walk you, s’ not safe for a pretty girl like you to be out in the dark all by yourself.”

The second you’re out of sight from the beach a hand wraps around your mouth, Rafe’s body pressing your own against a tall tree, blocking any escape. Your eyes go wide in fear, tears beginning to well up as you attempt to scream.

Your tears should make him irritated, angry even. But it doesn’t. It only turns him on more. His dick growing harder by the second.

“Shut the fuck up or i-i swear to god i’ll slit your throat. Can’t believe you kept this innocent act up. I can practically smell how soaked you are you fuckin’ slut.”

Before you can even think of screaming you’re cut off by your own wail as Rafe’s cock disappears between your folds. He bottoms out in one harsh thrust, your legs become slack as he grips your hips, holding you upright on his length.

“So fuckin’ tight. Gonna’ fuck you so good you’ll forget your own god damn name.” He growls.

The sound of clapping skin begins to echo, the skin of your ass turning raw due to his brutal thrusts. The tears don’t stop, only beginning to mix with the drool and sweat leaking down your face. Your wails and whimpers turn to moans as your cunt soaks his length.

Rafe knew you were perfect, that’s why he picked you. But this just proved him right.

“Fuckkk. You like that? Who knew you’d be such a dirty whore f’ me.” He chuckles, throwing his head back in ecstasy, yet his thrusts don’t slow. His pace almost animalistic.

The sensation of your pussy clenching tells Rafe what he wanted to know.

Rafe lets out a loud groan. “Jesus. You’re gonna’ fuckin’ cum aren’t you? Getting off on your rapists cock. Ask me. Ask daddy if you can cum.”

His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing tightly as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Please can i cum daddy? I need it s-so bad.” You whine, shifting your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his shaft, your back still pinned against the tree.

“Cum. Cum for daddy. Holy shitttt, pussys grippin’ me like a fuckin’ vice.”

Your cream coats his cock as you scream, biting your lip harshly to try and muffle your pleasure.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if the whole beach heard that from here you dumb slut.” He groans, lifting a hand to fist your hair, tugging harshly.

His thick cock continues to pummel your insides, your pussy throbbing as he fucks you through your high.

As Rafe looks down he notices a glint of red at the base of his shaft. The sight of your cream and blood alone brings him closer to the edge.

“Gonna’ cum in this pretty cunt, can’t wait to fill you up, baby. Daddy’s gonna’ cum.”

His release is met with a loud growl, his balls throbbing as his load fills you, thick ropes of his hot cum shoot into your pussy.

“That’s ittttt. fuck. Taking my cum like such a good girl.”

Rafe is slow to pull out, inching you off his cock as he pants trying to catch his breath. His hold however never leaves you, ensuring you don’t fall due to the brutal fucking you just received.

His attention is grabbed at the sound of your sobs, his thumb swiping over your cheek and collecting your tears. His pretty blues stare into your own, almost waiting for you to run.

But you don’t.

“Shh Shh Shh. No more tears. Daddy’s gonna’ take care of you from now on.”

[mattsangel]

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 (𝒏𝒐𝒕) 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 | 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉… you slowly start avoiding being home and your boyfriend notices, resulting in an argument.

ballerina!reader x undergroundfighter!matt, angst, crying, cursing, fighting, mention of violence, lowkey toxic matt

2.7k words

“when are you coming home?” , “are you back yet?” , “it’s getting late, where are you?” , the three questions that you heard the most coming from matt. you didn’t know if he was asking them out of genuine concern or just to be the controlling boyfriend he had become, although you tend to think it was the second option. he wasn’t like this when you met him, when you fell in love with him. but the once loving and thoughtful boyfriend that he was had vanished some months ago.

youtube wasn’t paying nearly as much as it used to for matt and his triplet brothers, their prime time was long gone and their audience had moved on to the next big thing, leaving them with no choice but finding a side hustle to get by. while chris and nick had found some decently normal jobs, chris working for a music production company while nick found a photography gig, matt had had a harder time finding a job. nothing seemed fitting enough for him, going from modeling to graphic designing for video games he couldn’t seem to find the right fit for him.

you supported him through the whole process, using your free time between college and rehearsals to help him look at thousands of job offers online. your earnings as a dancer and matt’s savings couldn’t support you guys forever, and you both knew that. it wasn’t long before matt got frustrated and abandoned his quest for work, choosing to go for something a little more easy. and illegal.

on a random friday night a few months ago matt had come home late, with busted knuckles and a slight cut on the top of his lip. he kept insisting that he was fine, to stop asking questions, until he snapped at you to leave him alone and stop being pushy about it. the next day, the two of you got into an argument, then matt finally admitted to have turned to underground fighting at a nearby private club.

you tried your best to reason with him, telling him he didn’t have to put his life on the line to keep you guys afloat with money, that you could manage to get more opportunities for bigger ballet productions and get a better earning or that he could simply find a safer job. he didn’t want to hear any of it though, his decision was final and you couldn’t do anything to change his mind.

at first, matt just seemed exhausted and in pain every time he’d come home. you did your best to try and support him, taking care of him when he got home and doing everything in the house to ease his mind. the more time passed, the more matt came home with an attitude, cursing at you and getting mad at the slightest thing being off, on top of that he had started drinking. his constant yelling and controlling behavior is what drove a ledge between you two, and it wasn’t long until you couldn’t take it anymore.

late night dance practices became an almost daily thing. you did not want to be home. from the moment your classes ended, until late at night you’d be at the dance studio. the older, cold lady that had been teaching you ballet for the better part of your life took a notice in how often you’d stay late, in an empty studio either dancing, rehearsing or doing your homework, pointes, sewing kit and textbooks splattered everywhere across the floor. one night she finally decided to ask you about it, and after explaining to her that things at home haven’t been easy, she took it upon herself to always reserve an empty studio for you to hang out in for as long as you needed. that place easily became your new safe place, and you were barely ever home anymore. 

it took matt a lot longer than you wished it would to realize that you weren’t ever really around anymore. it was almost always past ten pm when you’d walk in, careful to not make much noise and tiptoeing to your guys' shared room. you’d put your things down and take a shower, heading straight to bed and avoiding any attempt at small talk that matt would make, knowing it almost always ended with him getting pissed. he was rarely mad at you, but whatever it was that ticked him off, he’d take it out on you. the nights that you were home before him, you’d already be fast asleep when he walked through the door.

for the first few months, he did believe your countless excuses; that you just got more busy on a production, that you stayed at the library late to study for exams, that your instructor made you stay at the studio longer, but the more time passed, the less he believed you.

it was monday night and for the first time in what felt like forever, matt was seated at the kitchen table with two plates of food when you walked in. it took you a minute to process, but when you did look up at his face a sudden gasp left your mouth. his white tee was covered in platters of blood and dirt, his lip was bleeding and a black eye was starting to form on his left eye. he looked worse than you’d ever seen him.

you took a step toward the table, walking slowly not daring to look him in the eye.

matt cleared his throat, “you never answered my text.”

you finally look up, almost shocked that he spoke this softly to you. “sorry, they had me stay a bit longer at the studio”, the lie rolled off your tongue easily.

he nodded slowly, “right”, he paused for a second, “they have you doing this a lot lately.”

you wondered where he was going with this, but chose to answer short, not wanting this conversation to go where all the others before went, “i got a role in a pretty big production, i have to put in a little more work to keep it”. that wasn’t a total lie, you did score a leading role in the swan lake production taking place at the local studio next spring and there was a lot of work to put in.

“you didn’t tell me that”, matt said, “i don’t know why i’m surprised, you never tell me anything anymore”.

a frown takes over your face, “that’s not-”

matt suddenly interrupts you, “it is true. don’t play dumb”, you can tell he’s getting agitated, “you’ve been avoiding being home, or anywhere near me like the plague, y/n.”

you shake your head, not really knowing how to answer because you know that he’s right. you’ve been doing everything in your power to avoid him, not because you don’t love him, but because you don’t love who he’s become. the short-tempered, always angry at everything matt that sat in front of you was not the same matt that you knew and loved. he felt like a stranger.

you chose to sit down in the chair opposite of him, not sure how to approach the conversation that you knew was necessary to have, “i don’t want to argue, matt.”

he huffs, shaking his head lightly, “i just want to know why you’re never home. we haven’t spent time together in months, hell i can’t even remember the last time we fucked, not that it matters.”

you swallow hard. “you’ve changed matt, and i don’t want to blame it all on you but i can’t recognize you anymore,” you let out a shaky breath, tucking some hair behind your ear, “you’re always getting mad, raising your voice at me for no reason. you know i can’t handle the yelling.”

matt looks down at his lap for a split second, “i know i’ve been loosing my temper lately, but this can’t be the only reason why you spend all of your time away,” his blue eyes fixates on you, “is there someone else?”

the gasp that leaves your mouth is loud. you can’t believe that he’d think you’d have met someone else. 

“no, god no. there is no one else, i promise matt,” you look up at him, “i can’t bear the constant being mad and fighting. every time i come home, you’re moody and hurt, i can’t handle that.”

you feel the tears start to gather in your eyes, and try to blink them away but there’s no use. you feel your face getting hot and your hands are sweating, this conversation might’ve been needed but it doesn’t mean you’re enjoying it.

“being hurt is part of my job, y/n. i can’t prevent it from happening and i can’t stop fighting,” matt says, his voice raising slightly, “the money is good and i’m doing this for us, you have to understand that.”

this has you getting up from your chair, “don’t put this on us matt. you had a choice, you could’ve worked a normal job, but you chose to put yourself in this position,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “and i don’t care if you make millions, no amount of money is worth your life.”

“i don’t know in what kind of fairytale you think we’re in, but believe it or not, we need money to keep having a roof over our heads and food on the table.” matt is still sitting, in an almost nonchalant matter.

this sets you off, because if there is one person here that is painfully aware of this, its you. within  seconds you're out of the kitchen, speed walking towards your guy’s shared bedroom. in a hurry, you grab your baby pink duffel bag from the closet and throw it on the bed. your grabbing whatever clothes you have in sight, as well as your cosmetics bag and your charger. by the time you’re going over to the bathroom to grab more stuff, matt waltzes in.

“what are you even doing with that?” he says looking around at the mess you’re making, grabbing and shoving everything you can fit in your bag.

you spin to face him, your hair whipping him in the chest, “i can’t do this anymore,’ you say brokenly, “i can’t keep watching you get hurt and taking it out on me anymore.”

his face soften slightly, “angel, come on don’t do this,” he reaches towards you but you step back, not feeling strong enough to have him close. “where are you even planning to go, uh?”

tears of rage starts going down your cheeks rapidly, your hands are slightly shaking because he does have a point, you have nowhere to go. your family lives hours away and you wouldn’t know who else to turn to. and he knows it.

“i’ll figure it out.” you let out harshly, pushing past him towards the bathroom.

matt follows in tow, almost desperate to have you stay, “you can’t leave, y/n.”

you keep grabbing things from the vanity, not daring to look at him knowing it’ll make you even more emotional, “why, uh? i can’t keep living like this, i feel like a disturbance in my own house,” you keep going, “everything i say ticks you off, you’re always raising your voice and belittling me.”

at that, he stays silent. “you’re never affectionate with me anymore. you don’t pay attention to me, we don’t even act like a couple anymore.” you wipe your cheeks, “you’re always in pain, i know it’s uncomfortable but you don’t even let me help. you just tell me to leave you alone. it’s killing me, matt.”

“is this really how i make you feel?” matt whispers quietly.

you finally turn to look at him not expecting to see his glassy eyes and a pained expression forming across his face, as if he’s been stabbed in the chest. he’s holding his breath waiting for your answer, already knowing it.

“yes,” you say in a small voice, leaning against the marble counter.

suddenly, matt turns around, muttering a barely audible sorry and leaves. seconds later you hear the front door close and his car speeding out of the driveway. sliding down the wall to the cold tiles of the bathroom, you let out a sob that you didn’t know you were holding. 

you stay there for what feels like hours, just sobbing with your face in your hands, still clad in your light pink leotard and a pair of grey joggers, sitting on the cold floor. after a while, exhaustion takes over and you slump over, falling asleep.

you feel yourself getting lifted up, causing you to stir and rub your eyes. “matt?” you ask, visibly confused.

“shh, go back to sleep,” matt says, dropping a kiss on your forehead and setting you on the clean bed and putting the covers over you.

you sit up, “where did you go?” you take a good look at him, he’s definitely not wearing the blood splattered shirt from earlier and his face is cleaned up, making him look a bit less disheveled.

matt sits on the edge of the bed, taking your duffel bag from earlier and putting it on the floor, “i went to see nick and chris. i needed their advice.”

this peaks your interest, “advice on what?”

“on how to make you stay.” he’s looking at you with so much purpose, “i’ll put in the effort, i’ll go back to therapy and learn how to deal with my emotions, but you can’t leave me.”

suddenly it hits you. you see a glimpse of the matt you’ve been missing. the matt you fell in love with.

without leaving you any time to speak, he continues, “i’ve been the worst boyfriend ever lately, but i promise, i’ll keep myself in check and i’ll fix this. just please, give me the chance to do it.”

he hesitantly put his tattooed hand on your thigh, and for the first time in months, you feel relaxed because you know that he meant every word he just said.

“you can’t let it get this bad again matt,” you cover his hand with yours, “love is not easy, we both know it, but you have to let me be there for you.”

he nods fast, “i know. i was just in so much pain, and it made me feel weak because i see you suffer every day, dancing until your feet are bleeding and your ankles ache and you never complain.”

“you can’t compare yourself to me, baby,” you lift yourself on your knees, passing a hand through his dark hair, “and you can’t keep me from taking care of you. that’s what i’m here for.”

he puts a gentle hand on your cheek, caressing it tenderly before speaking up, “i’m so sorry for treating you like this my love. i hate myself for making you feel this awful.”

you lean in, pressing a sweet kiss to his plump lips and leaning back to look into his eyes, “i know you matt. i know this wasn’t intentional.”

“i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” he tugs you onto his lap, hugging you to his chest and letting out a breath of relief.

the two of you stay like this for a while, bathing in each other’s embrace until matt speaks up again, “congrats on that big production, baby.”

a huge smile takes over your face, “you won’t even believe what it is.”

his eyebrows shoot up, “what is it?”

your eyes are sparkling as you tell him that you’ll be performing as the lead in swan lake for all of next spring.

“no way,” he shakes his head, smiling at you like a fool, “this is huge, you’re a star.”

you tackle him onto the bed, smiling and being so happy to have your matt back.

© mattsangel

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆; this lowkey sucks, i’m just getting back into writing fics as i was previously writing on wattpad! i really hope you guys like this one, let me know if we want more of ballerina!reader, i love writing her as i am myself a ballet dancer and it feeds my delusions lol. don’t forget to leave some suggestions for either blurbs, headcanons or oneshots in my asks! love you all x

[goldsbitch]

Hello hello! I am still absolutely obsessed with the "Fire" fic you wrote. You are such a talented writer omg, the storytelling, the humour, everything!

So I thought, I have an idea for a funny fic and I'm just gonna send it in LOL I remember Lando saying in an interview that he's really scared when he's the passenger. So what if his GF is speeding all the time and Lando is just internally freaking out and sweating while trying to keep his cool next to her?

Just an idea, if you don't wanna write it that's fine too (:

omg omg omg thank you so much! i'm blushing and i'm scared - hopefully you'll like this one! i added a detail that might be little over the top - but who knows? not me anymore.

I'll drive

"You have a car?!" Lando uttered, forgetting any table manners, the food he had been chewing nearly falling out of his mouth.

Y/N was dead silent, the look on her face strongly resembling a child who lied about cleaning their room and just blushed every toy under their bed.

Her boyfriend gave her a cheeky questioning look, and when it finally set in - the fact she had been hiding the existence of her car from him - he was truly stunned and somewhat amused.

"So, wait. You know how to drive?! Why am I always taking you places?" he asked rhetorically, never actually being bothered by that, but still.

"I don't know how to drive-" she tried before getting interrupted by her father.

"Of course she does, I taught her myself," the jolly man said and patted her on her back with a proud smile. Y/N's face got washed with crocked smile, as if she swallowed something truly detestable.

"No, I do not know how to drive-"

"Nonsense, she's alway been so hard on herself," he father continued. Y/N just sighed.

The young couple came to visit her hometown for the first time. It was lot of reminescing of old times and her school days - a context that Lando very much appreaciated. He had met her as a grown up woman, but that weekend, he witnessed many amusing moments and heard lots of stories that only childhood small towns hold. What did he love the most about this experience? The fact there was nothing for her to do to stop it, no matter how much she frowned. Influx of surprising moments, but this discovery topping all of them.

She saw Lando's perplexed face and tried to save the situation. "I never lied to you, technically you never asked...I just figured you like driving so much, why bother, especially if I am so bad at it..."

Lando was not having it. "Oh, you're not getting easily out of this one," he replied, biting his lower lip, actively having to remind himself of the fact her family was right there. There was something innately attractive about her being so raw and pushed into a corner. Just pure cuteness. "I'm sure you're not half as bad as majority of the people out there," he said, new plans forming in his head. "I think you and I should take her for a spin," he said, referring to the car, and hid his smile behind a glass. Her eyes were piercing his with an energy so intense, it was electrifying.

"No, Lando, I am not driving while you're in the same car," she stated firmly, not breaking the eye contact.

"Come one, sweetheart, it'll be fun," he said, honey dripping out of his mouth.

"It will be anything but that," she said, but Lando ignored that, turning into her father for more information.

"So what kind of a car it?"

The rest of the conversation continued in description of a car Y/N herself could only describe as red, her father telling a story about how he got it for his daughter and how she actually barely ever drove it, which apparently broke his heart.

//

Let's not forget, this was Lando - of course he had ulterior motives. While it was great, spending few wholesome days in the company of his girlfriends family, his frustration grew, because for some reason, she refused to have any intimate activities in her family's house. Why, he had no idea. But of course, he respected that.

She never mentioned anything about not having some nice outdoor sex in a car. He wanted to see her drive and also ride. His perfect afternoon.

Lando is not the best of passengers, often uneasy about the common mistakes casual drivers made. Taking over the wheel is a natural thing for him to do. But, this was an exception he was excited to make - how bad could it be, right? He learned the hard way not to ask that question again.

//

"You sure you don't want to switch places?" she asked, once again, doing everything she could to get out of this.

"Nope babe, passenger seat is the vibe for me today," he smirked, making himself overly comfortable sitting next to her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Here goes nothing, I guess," she murmured and put the keys into ignition.

Lando found it amusing, seeing her so hyper-focused, as if she was launching a rocket ship. To be fair, it was a manual car - so it was close.

Three deep breaths - I fucking hate this, she thought, turned the key and released the clutch. When the car immediately jumped, Lando regretted sitting in his usual obscure way, his head hitting the door with quite a loud bump.

"Told ya," she said and started the car again. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't possibly sell her mistake as an intention.

"You released the clutch too soon," he said while assessing the bump forming on his head.

"Do not give me advice when I drive, makes me angry," she announced and this time actually managed to start the car in a semi-ok way.

Lando watched his bubbly, happy-go-lucky, girlfriend turn into a monster and there was nothing for him to do to stop it.

Everything was somewhat fine when they were still on the quiet roads surrounding her neighborhood. She stopped on the way to the main road, watching two cars that were comically far away and letting them pass. They didn't have to say anything, both knew what the other one was thinking. Y/N knew there was plenty of time for her to join the road before those cars, but the lack of trust in her own abilities was making her wait stubbornly. Lando watched the scenery, amused and starting to understand that in this relationship, his place as the driver was more than secure. She didn't want to be in this position, in fact she was increasingly more mad, that Lando and her father teamed up on her. But since she was where fate got her, she was absolutely not accepting Lando smirking at her.

"I know what you think, we have plenty of time, so I will not be doing some stupid moves to get us both killed," she said and gripped the steering wheel even more.

To prove his point, Lando leaned over her and squirted his eyes and watched the slowly approaching cars. He gave her a sarcastic nod. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm joking, I'm joking," he said, putting his hands in defense.

"You better be, otherwise I'll just yeet us into the ditch."

"Feisty..."

And that was when the line got crossed.

"Fine!" she said, having no control over her emotions, and pressed the gas with new found energy. She turned, almost into a drift, and joined the main road, nearly having the two cars crash into her.

Lando gripped the handle, not expecting her to speed so much. His eyes went wide with realizations - she was the kind of driver operating on emotions. Had this been a racing track and an F1 car, he'd be having more fun, knowing the cars were epitome of safety. He was not so sure about this vehicle.

She had the "Tsunoda" energy and absolute lack of skill to go about it. Weaving, wrong gear almost constantly and not bothered by the sound her car was making.

"You're driving quite close to the lane, baby," he commented, getting more and more worried about their safety.

"Shut up, don't be all smart about it," she said, lips locked in a line. She was focused - not that it helped.

Another hard turn where she missed the right moment to go into it. Lando took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay calm.

After few hundred metres, he couldn't take it again.

"I think you're way over the speeding limit," he mentioned.

"That's not what this says," he nodded to her speedometer. Lando leaned over and had to laugh.

"Yeah, that's definitely not correct. Honey, I'm sorry, but the lane - you are too close to it," he said in the calmest tone he could gather.

"My brain does not work like that, I see it more in an abstract way..."

His eyes nearly popped out. "You see the road in an abstract way? Oh dear god."

She sighed, not understanding what was the big deal was. "No like, it's a concept. It's not real, if there is nobody on the road, you can be anywhere."

"I'm pretty sure that's not the case, sweetheart," he said and thought for himself that it could be the case if she knew how to drive, but not like that. "Change the gear, you're burning your clutch."

She slapped the steering wheel. "I. Do not. Accept. Advice. At the moment. Thank you!" she said slowly before going on a rampage. "We both know you're exceptionally good at this, it was your idea, I tried to stop you, so now face the situation and do not tell me what to do because I might panic even more!"

"Ok, ok, calm down," he said, putting his hands up in defense and turning his head away to avoid watching her inventing a new way how to turn the steering wheel.

This sent her over the edge, truly giving up on any rules. She was mad, scared, uncomfortable and kind of hungry to be honest.

Lando stayed silent, worried for his life, regretting his decision and making a mental note to listen to her if she says she can't do something - if they survive this.

A huge bump and a loud noise. She barely managed to keep the car on the road.

"What is that?" she screamed, not knowing what to do.

"Front left tire puncture, retire the car! I mean, shit, stop, over there," he gestured, to the sideline of the road.

//

"Ok, so what now?" she said once it seemed like a decent amount of time for him to stop observing the wheel.

"It's just the tire, I'm sure you've got a spare at the back, right?" he asked and like the gentleman he was, got up and looked in the back for a replacement. When he got it out, he proudly put it in front of her, considering his part of the job done. She stared at him, not moving. "There you go," he said, encouraging her. "They taught you how to do this at driving school."

"Um, yeah. I missed that lesson. Can you do it?"

"How could you miss that lesson?" he asked in desperation. Both of them stood there, waiting for the other to take the lead. It was very unusual for Y/N to see him this passive around a car. "Come on, you must have had a question about this on your test," he pleaded.

And then it clicked. "Lando?" she asked, having a very strange feeling about his behavior. "Do you know how to change a tire?"

He stayed silent, pretending to ignore her question. Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you don't know how to change a tire?!" she asked once again, unable to believe that could even be the case. "Isn't that like half of your job?"

"Well no, actually, my job is to drive. There is a whole team dedicated for changing my tires," he said matter-o-factly.

"You're a racing driver. Spend more time in a car than in a bed. And you don't know how to change a tire," she stated and started to laugh. "That's so rich."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I've never actually done it myself. Plus these are normal tires, different system."

"Oh my god," she said, unable to process.

The way how much this whole thing has backfired had Lando stuck. He was suppose to be engaging in inappropriate activities with his girlfriend at this moment. In his understanding of that, it did not include getting his phone out and searching for an online tutorial for bloody tire change. But, there he was. Y/N was suddenly having so much fun, coming off a high that was the adrenaline her body produced during driving. She was free and driving was impossible now. Bliss. In her opinion, this was all Lando's fault - she told him she couldn't drive. Payback time - hopefully Oscar would pick up.

She was dialing her phone, while he was trying to understand how to go about this.

Yes, he picked up! "Hi, this is Y/N," she said in a very serious tone. "Who are you calling?" Lando mouthed, his biggest worry that she dialed up her father and he is now going to have a reputation until the end of time. "Help," she mouthed back silently.

"Hi Y/N," was Oscar's response, the driver being somewhat confused as to why she was calling him. "What's up?"

"Glad you ask. Me and my boyfriend got into a serious situation."

"You and Lando?"

Lando frowned. "Are you calling assistance? We don't need them..."

She ignored him."Yes, I was forced to drive-"

"He let you drive?"

"Forced-"

"What kind of assistance is it?" Lando asked, doubting the whole phone call.

Y/N continued without pausing. "And we managed to get a flat tire, which I don't know how to fix and to surprise of the whole universe, he can't fix as well."

There was only laughter on the other end of the call.

"Y/N, who are you calling?"

Y/N pretended not the hear Lando. "Do you know how to change a tire?"

Oscar was more than amused, knowing he just gained a wild card to use on Lando anytime he would want. "Yes, of course I do. Put me on Facetime with him."

Y/N smirked at her boyfriend, who was still confused and with sparkles in her eyes handed him her phone.

"Oscar says hi!"

Lando blinked, several times. "What? No!...Shit. Hey Oscar," he waved at his teammate awkwardly.

"I have been summoned," Oscar announced, finding this all very amusing.

"Yes," Lando replied, defeated.

Oscar did not wait and took the situation in charge. "First step to do is make yourself seen, guys. You got a triangle?"

"Where's the bloody bucket hat when you need it the most..." Y/N mumbled, having Lando roll his eyes in reaction.

"I'll go and find it and you guys figure this out, ok?" she said handing over the phone to Lando and giving him a little peck on the cheek.

"I hate you," he said with a smile.

"I hate you more," she replied and skipped over to the trunk.

//

After series of creative curse words, one pair of ruined jeans and a celebratory high five, the pair stood once again in front of her car, staring at each other.

"I guess I'll drive us back," Lando decided loudly and waited for her approval.

"Agree. Let's not disturb the gods anymore. You're such a bad passenger princess anyway."

The past hour was filled with lot of conflicting emotions, but the only one that stayed was the love the two shared just by looking at each other.

"I'm sorry I forced you into this," Lando apologized softly. "It was not fair. I see that now."

Her lips turned into a weak smile. "Thank you. And sorry for calling Oscar. I'm sure he won't let you forget this."

He see right though her. "No, you're not sorry about that - I can see the devil in your eyes."

She bit her tongue. "Yup."

It was hard for Lando not to kiss her in that moment. It was impossible for her to resist.

[d1stalker]

Second Nature [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In the freezing cold of the wild, you are saved by a man with many secrets. He takes you in, and soon you learn that you’d follow him anywhere. Takes place during The Wolverine (2013)

Warnings: does not accurately follow the events of the movie, hairy logan (heart eyes), misunderstandings

WC: 4.2k - MASTERLIST

----

Northern Canada was just as unforgiving as it was beautiful. The chilled air bit at your skin, and the vast wilderness stretched out endlessly, it was a place where few dare to venture.

It had been days since you’ve seen another soul, your only company being the towering trees and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the brush. You weren't not entirely defenceless as a mutant, though your powers were something you keep close to your chest.

The day started like any other—cold, silent, and solitary. You were making your way through the dense forest when you heard it: the deep, guttural growls of a pack of wolves. Your senses went on high alert as you froze, but before you could react, they were upon you. 

There were too many of them. You fought as best you could, using your powers in quick, controlled bursts, but the wolves were relentless, and violent. Just as you thought you might not make it out, a figure burst through the trees. He moved with immense speed, claws extended from his hands—no, not quite claws, but something far more lethal. He tore through the wolves with an ease that spoke of years of experience, and within moments, the threat was gone.

You were left standing in the snow, gaping at the man who had just saved your life. He was wild-looking, with long, tangled hair and a thick beard, his eyes fierce and sharp. He didn’t speak at first, just looked you over, assessing mutely, before finally grunting out a rough, “You alright?”

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding from the encounter. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

“Shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said gruffly. “This place isn’t safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, though you knew full well how close you had come to an early demise. You didn’t offer any explanation for why you were out here, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he simply turned and started walking away, as if saving your life was just another day for him.

You hesitated for a moment before following him. He didn’t seem to mind, and you were curious about the man who had appeared out of nowhere. He led you back to a small, rough cabin hidden deep in the woods. It was clear he had been living here for a while—there was a worn, lived-in look to the place.

Over the next few days, you found yourself staying in that cabin. The man, who you learned was named Logan, didn’t talk much, but he didn’t seem to mind your presence either. You kept your powers hidden, mainly out of habit, but a part of you was unsure of how he would react if he knew the truth. You knew he was some sort of mutant too, but he had an air of someone who had seen too much, who carried a heavy burden, and you weren’t ready to add to that.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, a quiet companionship developed between you. Logan was still rough around the edges, but there were moments when you caught glimpses of something softer beneath the surface. He was a man who had been through hell and survived, but the scars were still there, etched into his soul.

You weren’t sure when you started to think of him as a friend, but it happened slowly, in the small, unspoken ways you helped each other. He taught you things about the wilderness, how to track and hunt, while you offered a quiet presence that seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Then, one day, everything changed. A woman appeared at the cabin, her hair bright red and her demeanour as sharp as a blade. Yukio, she called herself. She had come to find Logan, to tell him that his old friend Yashida was dying and wanted to see him one last time in Japan. Logan was reluctant at first, but Yukio was persistent, and eventually, he agreed.

You hadn’t expected him to invite you along, but when he turned to you with a serious look in his eyes and said, “Come with me,” you found yourself nodding before you could think about it.

----

When you arrived at the estate in Japan, Yukio immediately declared that a cleanup was in order. Logan resisted, of course, but she insisted. You were too tired to argue and knew she was right. You hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks if not months. The little tub in the cabin did barely enough to make you feel freshened up, and the idea of finally being clean was too tempting to pass up.

She led you to your separate rooms, where hot baths and fresh clothes awaited. The water was blissfully warm, and as you soaked, you felt the tension slowly ebb away. You scrubbed your skin clean, washed your hair until it felt soft and light again, and when you finally stepped out of the bath, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. The fresh clothes Yukio provided were simple yet elegant, a far cry from the rough, dirty outfit you’d been wearing for days.

After dressing, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. For the first time in a long while, you felt... pretty. It was a strange sensation after everything that had happened, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Logan already waiting for you when you saw him. Your breath caught in your throat. His long beard was nowhere to be seen, a uniquely styled facial hair left in it’s wake. His hair was trimmed as well. His usual gruff demeanor was still there, but he looked... different. Handsome, in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He was staring at you too, a look of surprise flickering across his face before he quickly masked it. "You clean up nice," he said lowly.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to sound casual, though you were acutely aware of the way his eyes lingered on you.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, taking in the sight of each other. You had always thought Logan was attractive in a natural, untamed way, but seeing him like this, it made your heart stir in your chest.

Yukio interrupted your thoughts, her voice cutting through the silence. “Good. Now that you two don’t look like wild animals, we can get to work.”

----

Yukio led you and Logan through the estate’s winding paths, the sound of your footsteps muted by the soft ground. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the garden, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to admire the beauty of the place.

Finally, you reached a large, open room where an elderly man sat in a wheelchair, his frail form dwarfed by the spaciousness of the room. Yashida’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and labored, but there was a sense of peace about him, as if he had come to terms with his impending death.

“Logan,” Yukio said softly, her tone respectful as she gestured for him to approach.

Logan stepped forward, his usual confidence tempered by something more subdued. He stopped a few feet from Yashida, his hands clenched at his sides as he struggled to find the right words.

“Yashida,” he eventually said, addressing the man before him. “It’s been a long time.”

Yashida’s eyes slowly opened, and when they focused on Logan, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Logan,” he rasped, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “You came.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied, his tone softening. “I came.”

Yashida’s gaze shifted to you, and you felt a strange mix of emotions as his eyes, still sharp despite his age, studied you intently. “And who is this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I’m just a friend,” you said, offering him a small, respectful bow. “I’m here to support Logan.”

Yashida’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Thank you for coming,” he said, his tone sincere. “It means a great deal to me.”

Then, another figure entered the room, a young woman with delicate features and a quiet grace that immediately drew your attention. She moved with the fluidity of someone who was used to being in control, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored Yashida’s.

“Mariko,” Yashida said, his voice softening as he spoke her name. “Come, meet Logan.”

Mariko stepped forward, her gaze flicking to Logan with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Logan,” she said quietly, her voice as soft as the rustling leaves outside. “It’s an honour.”

Logan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he looked away. “Likewise.”

There was an awkward silence as you stood there, feeling like an outsider in this reunion. You watched the way Mariko looked at Logan, her gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place—respect, maybe, or perhaps a cautious admiration. Whatever it was, it made your chest tighten with an emotion you weren’t ready to examine.

“Please, sit,” Yashida said, gesturing to the cushions on the floor. “We have much to discuss.”

You sat down beside Logan, feeling the tension in the room build as Yashida began to speak, his words measured and deliberate. He spoke of his time with Logan, of the bond they had shared during the war, and of the gratitude he felt for the life Logan had given him. But there was something else in the way Yashida spoke—an underlying desperation that made you uneasy.

“I have a gift for you, Logan,” Yashida said, his eyes locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that belied his frail appearance. “A gift that will free you from your suffering.”

Logan stiffened beside you, his expression darkening. “I don’t need anything from you, Yashida,” he announced.

“But you do,” Yashida insisted, his tone growing more urgent. “You’ve lived long enough to see the world change, to see those you care about die. I can give you what you’ve always wanted—mortality.”

The room fell silent as Yashida’s words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on you like a physical force. You glanced at Logan, searching his face for any sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.

“I didn’t come here for this,” Logan said after a long pause. “I came because you asked.”

Yashida’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said. “But the offer stands. Should you change your mind...”

Logan didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he stared at the floor. You could feel the tension radiating off him, and it took everything in you not to reach out and touch his arm, to offer some kind of comfort.

----

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmur of prayers as you stood at Yashida’s funeral, surrounded by mourners dressed in black. The solemnity of the occasion hung heavy, but there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn’t ignore. Logan was beside you, his expression unreadable, though you knew him well enough by now to sense the unease in his posture.

In that moment, your mind wandered to the days you’d spent in the Yukon, the solitude that had once been your only companion. You hadn’t ended up there by choice. No, you had been running—from a world that feared what it didn’t understand, from people who saw you as a threat. The fact that you were a mutant had always set you apart, but it was also the reason you had been hunted, feared, and ultimately driven into the wild. 

You still hadn’t told Logan about your powers, not out of a lack of trust—hiding them had simply become second nature to you. But as you stood at the funeral, watching the proceedings with a growing sense of dread, you realized that your secret was about to come crashing down around you.

It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react. One moment, the funeral was proceeding as expected, and the next, the mourners were scattering in panic as a group of Yakuza thugs stormed the ceremony, their eyes locked on Mariko, Yashida’s granddaughter.

“Mariko!” Logan’s voice was a deep growl as he pushed through the crowd, his adamantium claws shooting out. You sprang into action right behind him, your heart pounding as you watched the Yakuza close in on Mariko. You knew that even though he was fast, Logan wouldn’t make it in to her in time. 

Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down, and your instincts took over. Thrusting your hands out, you called for your powers and the air around you responded, swirling with a sudden, powerful gust that sent the Yakuza stumbling back. Logan's head whipped over to you, his eyes widening in shock, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Fire erupted from your fingertips, a controlled burst that seared the ground between Mariko and the attackers, creating a barrier they couldn’t cross. But the attackers didn’t yield, and they regrouped quickly, readying themselves for another assault.

Logan was at your side in an instant. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—” you faltered, the words catching in your throat as you continued to fend off the enemy. The earth beneath you trembled as you called on your powers again, sending a wave of stone and dirt crashing into the Yakuza, knocking them off their feet.

“I didn’t know how,” you finally admitted tightly, from the strain of maintaining control over the elements. 

Logan’s expression was a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. But he didn’t have time to respond before the Yakuza pressed their attack, forcing both of you to focus on the immediate threat.

Together, you and Logan fought them off, your powers weaving through the chaos as Logan’s claws tore through the ranks of the attackers. It was over in minutes, but it felt like an eternity. When the last of the Yakuza fell, you stood there, breathing hard, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Mariko was safe, but the damage was done. Logan turned to you, his gaze intense. “You didn’t trust me,” he said, the hurt clear in his voice.

“It wasn’t about trust,” you said quietly, lowering your hands as the last remnants of your power faded into the air. “I’ve spent my whole life hiding who I am, Logan. It’s not something I can just turn off.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “I get that,” he finally said, his voice softer now. “But you knew about me––my mutation. I thought—”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice breaking slightly. “It’s just… I didn’t want to bring attention to it. I wanted to leave it in the past.”

Logan’s expression softened, the anger fading as he listened to your words. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said after a moment, surprising you. “But I want you to know… I would’ve understood.”

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It was strange, how this man who had saved you, who had become your friend, could look at you with such understanding, after you had hid something so important from him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words heavy with the weight of everything you hadn’t said before.

He didn’t say much after, just turning and heading toward Mariko, going to check on her. 

----

In the days following the incident at Yashida’s funeral, something between you and Logan shifted. It was subtle at first—an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before, a hesitation in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed, and not for the better.

Logan had started pulling away from you. At first, you thought it was because of Mariko, and his new mission—that he had simply found something else to focus on. But as the days went by, you realized that it was more than that. Logan wasn’t just distant—he was hurt. And it wouldn't take a genius to know why.

He had been wounded by your secret, by the fact that he thought you hadn’t trusted him enough to reveal your powers. You had tried to explain, to make him understand that it wasn’t about him, but the damage was done.

The distance between you pained you. You had grown to care for him deeply. It had started as friendship, a bond forged in Canada, but somewhere along the way, you knew your feelings had begun to change. You hadn’t meant to fall for him, but it happened all the same, creeping up on you like the first rays of dawn after a long, cold night.

But as you watched him pull away from you, and towards Mariko, those feelings felt like a mistake.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Logan to be happy—far from it. You cared about him too much to wish anything but the best for him. Still, seeing the way he looked at her, the way he seemed drawn to her despite the mayhem surrounding them, made something inside you ache. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between you and Logan, but it was clear now that whatever you had shared was truly just a friendship. Nothing more.

And that realization hurt more than you cared to admit.

You tried to push those feelings aside, to focus on the task at hand. There was still so much to do, and Japan was far from safe. The Yakuza were remained a threat, and Yashida’s legacy was more tangled than you had ever imagined. But no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the helping, your mind kept drifting back to Logan and Mariko.

So, you did the only thing you could—you pulled away. You gave Logan and Mariko space, leaving them to each other whenever possible. It hurt to do it, to step back when all you wanted was to be by Logan’s side, like you’d for months, but you convinced yourself it was for the best. If this was what Logan wanted, if she was who he needed, then who were you to stand in the way?

Even as you distanced yourself, you continued to help them in whatever ways you could. You were still in Japan, still part of the mission Logan got roped into, but you became a shadow, always there but never too close. You helped Mariko when she needed it, fought alongside Logan when necessary, but you never lingered, never gave him a reason to think you wanted anything more.

----

When the trip was over, and the two of you returned back to Canada, things were different. The easy companionship you had shared was strained, the unspoken tension between you making every moment feel heavy with uncertainty. You weren’t sure where you stood with Logan anymore, and it was driving you mad.

He had been quiet since your return, keeping to himself, and you had done the same, unsure of how to bridge the growing distance between you. It hurt, more than you wanted to admit, but you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You had spent the day wandering the snowy landscape, trying to clear your head, but no amount of fresh air could chase away the doubts that had settled in your mind. By the time you returned to the cabin, the sun was beginning to set. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle as you debated whether to go inside or keep walking.

Before you could decide, the door swung open, and Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been gone a while,” he said, his voice rough from disuse.

“Just needed some air,” you replied quietly as you stepped inside.

Logan closed the door behind you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. Then, “We need to talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with anxiety as you followed him to the small living area. You sat on the edge of the worn couch, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you waited for him to start.

Logan remained standing, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve been thinking… about everything that happened in Japan.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “So have I.”

He looked up at you then, “I don’t know how to do this,” is all he could get out.

“I know."

“I’ve been thinking about why things got so messed up between us,” Logan continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “And I think… I think it’s because I was hurt that you didn’t tell me about your powers, that you’re a mutant too. I took it personally, and that was wrong.”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Logan. I just… I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Logan stepped closer, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he looked down at you. “You didn’t lose me,” he said quietly. “But I think I almost lost you because I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s why I pulled away. I didn’t want to get hurt, so I put up walls.”

“And Mariko? I mean, it's not like you need to justify anything to me, but--fuck--I...” You started, letting your words drift off. You didn't know where you were going with this, but Logan would have to be a real idiot to not catch on.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and it scared you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“When we were in Japan… I was hurt. Not just by everything that was happening, but by what I thought was going on between us. I felt like you didn’t trust me, like you were keeping me at arm’s length, and I didn’t know how to handle that. And then there was Mariko… she was there, and I turned to her because… I don’t know, I guess I was looking for something to distract me from what I was feeling.”

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

“But it wasn’t what you think,” he affirmed. “It wasn’t about feelings, or love, or anything like that. Mariko was just… there. I was in a bad place, and she was someone who didn’t expect anything from me, who didn’t know me the way you do. We got physical, but it wasn’t real."

You blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “So, it didn’t mean anything?”

Logan shook his head. “Not the way you’re thinking. I won’t lie to you—it happened, and I’m sorry for that. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care about you,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “It was because I did, and I didn’t know how to deal with my own emotions. I made a mistake, and it hurt you, and I hate that.”

You could see the regret in his eyes, the way he was struggling to find the right words. “I thought you wanted to be with her,” you admitted, “That I was just… in the way.”

He swallowed, “You were never in the way. I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that.”

You looked up at him. “Where does that leave us then, Logan? Should I… should I stay here? With you?”

Logan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup your face in his hand. “I want you to stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But only if that’s what you want too.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch as a wave of relief washed over you. “I want to stay,” you whispered back, your heart pounding in your chest. “I need to know that we’re on the same page though, that this is more than just… friendship.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek. “It is,” he confirmed, “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I want to figure this out, whatever it is between us.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him with a small, trembling smile. “I want that too.”

Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned down, nuzzling his nose with yours as he spoke, an action that nearly had your heart bursting in your chest. “Then let’s do this. No more hiding, no more running. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echoed, happy.

------

[targaryenluvs]

— HUNGER GAMES

a/n: look at my cute lil smiley fin 😭 god i love hunger games so much you don’t understand it’s my comfort movies and finn is my comfort character ❤️

RED MARKED STORIES HAVE DARK THEMES. READ WARNINGS PLEASE.

FINNICK ODAIR

— want and desire (req) dark themes

— summary: you’d thought you’d escaped the capitol, and to some extent, him, the ever so sweet and charming finnick odair. but apparently your fate had been signed, as it seemed you couldn’t get away from him, no matter how hard you tried.

— spring cleaning (blurb req)

— summary: finnick finally decides to clean out the garage with your help after you asking him forever.

— victors spoils

— summary: a victor should be celebrated! a victor should get what ever they wish, even if it’s a sweet capitol girl who misplaced her kindness in someone who was in desperate need of reprieve and distraction.

— lonely waters

— summary: even if you resided in the fishing district you only ever got close to the water for swimming late at night. it was your favourite time of the day, but it leaves you open and vulnerable to predators and people, the water won’t save you.. silly girl, don’t you remember? finnick odairs a champion swimmer.

— my people ft annie cresta

— summary: you’d been hired to help keep annie’s home clean and to keep her company. what you didn’t expect was to fall in love with her. and to find out that she was with finnick, and annie doesn’t want to let either of you go. but you’ve found your people, and you couldn’t be happier.

— miss officer

— summary: you’re tasked with training finnick odair for war and to fight in the captiol. only problem? he’s completely enamoured with you.

— breakups and makeups

— summary: you and finnick used to date, but it took a nasty turn when you heard rumours of his dalliances. but now the two of you reunite apart of the same alliance. will you make up or break up? again?

— damage control & lifeline (anon blurb)

— summary: finnick and his mentor getting into a fake relationship for damage control after peeta and katniss’ stunt at the 74th games + finnick saving his stylist from execution by proposing marriage.

— unrequited (anon blurb, implied smut)

— summary: you’d divulged one to many secrets to your favourite victor and he wasn’t afraid of using them against you. karmas a bitch!

— oh baby! (smut)

— summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

— capitol girl (req blurb)

— summary: finnick loves his favourite victor.

— love you best part two (req, smut)

— summary: your boyfriend doesn’t exactly like you around other men without him.

CORIOLANUS SNOW

— trapped

— summary: after the 10th hunger games, coriolanus set his sights on a girl from his younger years to be his wife. disgusted by his actions and scared by the rumours your family agreed. as you realise he wasn’t the same boy from before, snow finds himself intrigued, especially when you seem to be visiting a friends house too often.

— delicate*

— summary: coriolanus had to marry. lucky for him one of the most eligible girls of the capitol was up for grabs. only problem? he hoped his cold exterior would keep her away but nothing broke her sweet spirit. what happens when he finds himself being drawn to her light? and how far was he willing to go to keep it untainted and all to himself?

— ravage delicate pt 2

— summary: he’d won the election, much to your elation. now you’d have to navigate the fame, fortune and status as the first lady of panem. but coriolanus just wanted you all to himself, and he’d do anything to scare you into his arms.

— safe and sound ft lucy gray baird

— summary: somehow you’d ended up in the games, snow and lucy would do anything to keep you safe.

— worth it

summary: coriolanus made the mistake of protecting lucy gray during the bombing, rather than you.

— runaway

summary: you’d always considered coriolanus to be a friend of yours. family even. but after sejanus’s death you find him to be off. he’s keeping something from your family and you’ve run out of time to get as far away as you can.

— our little dove ft lucy gray baird

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— our little dove alt ending

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— late to the party

— summary: after corio was sent away to district 12, your managed to come to terms with the fact that he did not love you by any means. but what happens when he realises he liked that affection? and what happens when you’re already in a relationship?

— brown jewel (req)

— summary: he was a lifeline and you’d grabbed on in hopes to avoid the reaping, but you were coriolanus’ obsession and he was not going to let you go.

— temper tantrum (req)

— summary: you were the daughter of one of the richest couples of panem. everything you’ve ever wanted, handed to you. coriolanus had a short temper and you were stubborn. who knows what could happen?

— mr president (req)

— summary: mr president seems to be especially enamoured with his favourite maid, you.

— all grown up (smut)

— summary: you were always tigris's annoying rich friend to coriolanus, but once he returns from 12 you seem to be irresistible, not only to him.

— charity (req)

— summary: president snow was praised for his love and devotion to his wife, a cripple. if only they knew how you’d ended up that way.

— love you best (req, smut, read as coryo or finnick)

— summary: your boyfriend doesn’t like you around other men without him.

PEETA MELLARK

— sweet like sugar (blurb req)

— summary: peeta teaches you how to bake since you’re nowhere near as good as you thought, not that you’d admit it.

—paranoia (dark req)

— summary: peeta tries to reintegrate into society in district 13 and get over his fear of you being taken from him. no one noticed just how badly the capitol messed him up until he lashes out.

SEJANUS PLINTH

— coming soon!

LUCY GRAY BAIRD

— safe and sound ft coriolanus snow

— summary: somehow you’d ended up in the games, snow and lucy would do anything to keep you safe.

— destined

— summary: you and lucy enjoy time together at the lake.

—our little dove ft coriolanus snow

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— our little dove alt ending

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

KATNISS EVERDEEN

— coming soon!

JOHANNA MASON

— underestimate (blurb req)

— summary: johanna learns not to underestimate you.

ANNIE CRESTA

— my people ft finnick odair

— summary: you’d been hired to help keep annie’s home clean and to keep her company. what you didn’t expect was to fall in love with her. and to find out that she was with finnick, and annie doesn’t want to let either of you go. but you’ve found your people, and you couldn’t be happier.

TRIBUTE!READER

— coming soon!

(in general, no ship just the reader in the arena, with katniss n peeta etc)

[florencesf1blog]

Hi :) Can you write an imagine - enemies to lovers with Oscar. They both have been in love with one another but for whatever reason pretend to hate each other. They’re at the same party and some weird guy doesn’t want to leave reader alone so she goes for help to the first person she recognises at the party: Oscar. She goes to him and kisses him and he’s a little surprised at first but he returns the kiss and even grabs her waits (and maybe her butt) and deepens the kiss . And she’s like begging him to play along because that weird guy doesn’t want to leave her alone. And when he hears this he gets into a protective mode and then doesn’t let her alone/ out of his sight for the rest of the party. And the ending can be whatever you want - maybe they confess their feelings or not

please, please, please.

Oscar Piastri x Reader

In which you attend a party, and an unlikely someone saves the day.

Words: 964 Warnings: language, alcohol, inappropriate touching?

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

Being close friends with Lando Norris was a struggle. Although, right now it wasn't about his own childish antics. No, this was about his teammate.

Oscar Jack Piastri.

It seemed that everything about him ticked you off. The way he always spoke in such a calm manner, the way he walked around the paddock, his stupid and yet adorable smile, his distracting biceps...

What you probably hated the most about him was how you couldn't seem to hate him at all. You had done a great job at hiding your feelings from him, especially since you two could only argue once you were in the same room. In reality, both you and Oscar are just terribly oblivious and everyone but you two could see it.

"What are you laughing at?" you almost sneer towards your friend, Lando, who couldnt hide the wide grin that was plastered on his face. "Nothing...nothing..." he trails off but he continues to snicker. You nudge his arm callously, a stern look on your face. "Oh come on...you can't expect me to believe that act you put on" he grins. You let out a scoff, brows furrowing. "What act?" you ask him, annoyed that he seemed to be catching on. "You can lie to yourself all you want, but you do not hate Oscar"

-

It was extremely hot in the club, feeling as if you could melt to the floor any moment. It was crowded, loud and flashy. Usually you'd avoid places like these, but with Lando getting his first win here in Miami you felt obligated to come.

You head over to the bar to get yourself a new drink, when you're suddenly reminded of what you hate most about these places. A man, a strange man you had never seen or spoken to before suddenly places a hand on your waist to pull you closer. Before you can even react, he leans down to whisper in your ear, completely invading your personal space as he speaks. "Let me buy you a drink, bonita. You look like you're in need of some company"

Immediately, you push him off of you. In a gentle manner that is, not wanting to cause any trouble. But even as you shake your head no and politely insist that you can pay for your own drink, he wouldn't go. He kept trying to get close to you, putting his hands on you and insisting he'd keep you company.

A sense of panic washed over you, especially once you realized this man was intoxicated. You looked around, continuing to brush the man off while trying to stay polite with your ways and words. Somewhere in the crowd, you spot a familiar face already staring back at you.

Oscar fucking Piastri. Of course. Usually, this would only make matters worse. The guy you hated (or at least pretended to) being the only familiar person around in a situation like this. He stared back at you. not looking away as he noticed the somewhat panicked look on your face. For someone who is supposed to hate you, he felt awfully worried.

"Excuse me..." you mutter, grabbing your drink as you hastily make your way through the crowd. Being left behind confused, the man takes a moment to realize you were walking away from him before he follows after you. He was determined, you'd give him that.

Once you reached Oscar, het put on his usual annoyed face. With an eye roll, he begins to ask: "What are you doi-" before being bluntly cut off with your lips crashing on his. You stood on your tiptoes, leaning forward to reach him with your hands on his neck to stabilize yourself.

It took Oscar a while to react, both his hands on your arms as if he was making sure you wouldn't fall over. He pulls you back for just a moment, but keeps holding on to your arms. "What is going on?" he asks, look behind you to see the same man that had been bothering you before.

"Please, please, please, just play along..." you begin to softly plead. "...this guy won't leave me alone and-" before you could finish your sentence, he leans down to press his lips back on yours. His hand moves down to grip your waist, moving you to stand chest to chest as his other hand moves down to your rear.

The man was left in shock, not wanting to disturb the scene in front of him. He leaves, and once you realize he's gone you pull away. Oscar looks down at you with an unreadable expression, almost disappointed now that you've pulled away from him. You let out a small sigh, feeling your cheeks redden from both the drinks you've had and the situation you put yourself in.

"Thank you" you give him a soft smile, and he gives you a reassuring nod in return. "Maybe it's best if you stay here with me tonight, you know? To make sure no one else bothers you"

The suggestion (though it sounded as if he wasn't going to let you out of his sight either way) makes butterflies swirl around in your stomach. The thought of Oscar being protective over you like this, making sure no one else would bother you, definitely did something to you.

And so for the remaining of the evening, Oscar was plastered by your side. At some point Lando even spotted you two standing awfully close together, his eyes narrowing with a knowing smirk.

You wouldn't tell Oscar how you really felt at the end of the evening, and he wouldn't mention how glad he was you came to him for saving. But after tonight, you could no longer pretend to hate the man you felt so deeply for.

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

A/N: my very first work on this account. rewrote this a couple of times and im still not sure if its good or not. it ended up being a little shorter than i imagined, but i didnt want to go too deep into a story i wasnt going to continue. definitely enjoyed bringing this request to life, and i hope its what the anon wanted. let me know what you guys think! :)

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Eleven - Reunited (and it feels so good)

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.9K

Warnings: dick sucking, fucking, mentions of necklace lando (bc goddamn)

Series Masterlist

It wasn't common for teammates to visit each other in the hospital after a crash. The McLaren team didn't expect it, didn't expect for Lando to rush straight to the hospital as soon as the race was done.

He went straight to her room, where she was laying on the hospital bed getting some well deserved rest. When Lando walked into the room, her eyes flew open. It must have been from the sound of his footsteps, he justified.

She sat up with a groan and looked at Lando. "Hey," she said, rubbing her eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"I had to come visit you, didn't I?" Lando said as he sat on the seat beside her bed.

Y/N let her head fall to the side as she looked at him. "Well, I appreciate it, Lan. But you don't have to stay here. You can go if you'd like," she said and patted the hand that sat on the bed.

But Lando wasn't going anywhere. When the doctor came to discharge her, Lando asked every question he could think of, acting like her boyfriend. When she was discharged (she had flu and slight dehydration, not enough for the doctors to keep her in), Lando walked out holding her things.

He had his arm around her. Keeping her up, he said. It didn't matter whether it was true or not, Lando didn't let go of her until they were back in her hotel room, packing her things.

Lando was supposed to leave Sunday evening, after the race. But he stuck around, waiting for Y/N to get out of the hospital. He was gonna take her home with him, take care of her once they were back at the apartment.

"You gave me a scare there," said Lando as he drover her back to the apartment. "For a minute I was scared you were pregnant."

Y/N ran her hands over her face. "Jesus, shit, Lando. We've used a condom almost every time! You over dramatic asshole." That last bit she muttered under her breath.

She climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. As exhausted as she was, she still marched away from him, making her way up to their apartment. Lando watched as she walked away from the car, disappearing through the door of the apartment complex.

She hid herself away in her room for the next few days, only emerging to make herself soup and tea. That was what kept her going, the irregularly timed bowls of soup and constant cups of fruity teas.

She wasn't avoiding Lando, wasn't exactly mad at him for being so dramatic, but she didn't want to get him sick. So, she stayed away.

She got worse before she got better, watched her favourite movies on repeat as she waited for her coughing and her sneezing to stop. Every day Lando knocked on her door with a cup of tea, which Y/N took gratefully. She didn't drink it, though. The gesture was incredibly sweet, but Lando couldn't make a decent cup of tea to save his life.

On the first day that she was feeling ever so slightly better, she was bored. And she missed Lando. She missed the feel of his body beneath hers, the way he gripped her hips as he moved her on top of him.

The box under her bed should have kept her company, but she was too sick for that. Plus, it just reminded her of the times that she and Lando spent together, using the items in said box.

She didn't emerge from her room until the second day that she was feeling better. Her throat was still tickling, but her nose wasn't running and she didn't feel like she needed a nap every time she so much as moved a muscle.

Y/N walked out of her room. She sat herself on the sofa, putting her feet up onto the coffee table, and turned on the television.

"Holy shit, you're alive," said Lando as he emerged from his own room.

Y/N cleared her throat and adjusted herself in her seat. "Lovely to see you too, Lan," she muttered, her head turned to the side to look at him. "You want to watch Star Wars with me? Meet your namesake?"

"I was not named after Star Wars Lando," he insisted as though they'd had this conversation several times before.

"His name is Lando Calrissian, you should know that."

For all of his protesting, Lando sat beside her anyway. He copied her pose, placed his feet up on the coffee table (knocking one foot into hers), and opened his arm, letting her tuck herself into his side.

"When do we meet Lando?" He asked, his fingertips playing with the ends of her hair.

She smirked at that. "Oh, in the next movie," she said quietly, taking his other hand and playing with his fingertips.

Lando went to stand up, but she clamped her fingers around his wrist. "Nope, Lan, you're going to stay here and you're going to like it."

So, he stayed. Not because he was sucked into the science fiction movie from the seventies that his roommate seemed to love, but because she wanted him there. As long as she wanted him, he wasn't going anywhere.

On the third day, Y/N was feeling right as rain.

In her hoodie and shorts (with lingerie beneath), she knocked on Lando's bedroom door. "Lando Norrissian! I'm feeling better and I want to get freaky!"

She pushed open the door.

Sat in his gaming chair in his best pants, Lando smirked as she walked into the room. She strode over to him, throwing off her hoodie as she did so. "Fuck me, Lan," she began (which he quietly replied to). "I've been looking forward to this since the last Grand Prix.

She got to her knees, blinking up at him as she touched him through his pants. "Has little Lando missed me too?" She asked, running her tongue along her bottom lip.

"Don't call him that," Lando muttered, but he was hard beneath her touch.

She pushed down his boxers allowing him to spring free. "Missed you too, buddy," she whispered and kissed the head of his cock.

Lando couldn't reply. He simply moaned and bucked his hips up. Y/N kept a hold of him, keeping him still as she took him into her mouth. It wasn't the easiest, considering she was still recovering from the flu, but she still sucked him. Not pushing herself too hard, her gag reflex couldn't handle that for the time being.

Lando's fingers knotted through her hair, holding her tightly. He wasn't directing her or forcing her down onto his cock, letting her control the pace. He just wanted something to hold.

Just once did Y/N take him all the way in. She sucked his head before pushing all the way down, until her nose made contact with his navel. But she quickly pulled away from him, took some time to recover before she started again.

As she swirled her tongue along his head, she moved her hand up and down his shaft. Lando's eyes were shut as he moaned and tugged on her hair. Clearly, he was enjoying it. "Fuck, Y/N," he cried, the muscles in his neck straining.

She pulled off of him. "Your turn?" Offered Lando, but she shook her head as she ran to his bedside table.

"If your not inside of me in the next thirty seconds we will be having problems," she said as she pulled out a condom and immediately tore the packaging.

They'd gotten good at putting on Condoms since they moved in together. No longer did they have that awkward struggle of working out which way was the right way. She kneeled in front of him again as she rolled it onto his dick, stood up and jumped on the bed, spread eagle.

Someone was eager, that much was clear.

Lando grinned as he got out of his gaming chair. He pushed his boxers to his feet and stepped out of them. "Hurry up, Lan," she whined.

Lando pulled off her panties. He climbed on top of her and leaned down to kiss her. She could wait if it meant a moment of intimacy. She accepted though, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close as to not let him again away. "Fuck, I've missed you," she whispered, her eyes shut.

Lando pulled away. He held himself as he pushed forward, gently pushing through her folds. Somehow it felt like the first time all over again. She arched her back as he continued to push forward, until he was fully sheathed inside of her.

"Fuck me," she whispered, unable to hold herself back.

Even when inside of her, Lando was still a cocky little shit. "I'm trying," he muttered through a grin as he snapped his hips forward.

As if on instinct, she wrapped her legs around him, hands on his shoulders as he fucked her. Lando had his hands on either side of her head, looming over her as he moved. His breaths were coming out in short puffs, a sheen of sweat appearing on his skin.

There was no better sight than Lando above her, she decided. If she died now, she'd die happy, the image of Lando thrusting into her forever burned into her memory.

Lando used his strong arm to prop himself up on one hand. The other travelled down, touching her body. His fingertips against her stomach had her gasping, but they kept travelling down, until they were nestled between her folds, touching her clit.

It was quite a skill he had, to fuck her like that while he was touching her. It had her moaning and writhing, oh so close to the edge. "Please, please, please," she cried over and over again as Lando grew faster.

Her walls were clenching around him, squeezing him in a delicious way. He felt her let go, maybe before she did. She cried out once more, her body tensing up, her nails raking down his back, leaving red marks as she came.

Lando kept going. Her nails against his back stung, but he loved it. He'd wear those marks forever, if he could.

Lando's thrusts grew sloppy. His grunts grew louder until he finally stopped, spilling his seed inside of the condom.

Swiftly he pulled out and disposed of it, throwing it away in the bin in his bedroom. Breathlessly, Y/N sat up, propped up by her elbows. "Holy fucking shit, Lando Norris. That was..."

"I'd missed you too," Lando answered as he sat on the end of the bed. He went to say something else, but he hesitated. Y/N didn't notice, though, too distracted by the marks she had left on his back. "Do... do you wanna take a bath with me?" He asked.

Still dressed in nothing, the two of them walked to the bathroom. Lando kept his arm around her as he did so. He sat her on top of the closed toilet lid and set about running the bath water. "You know, if you threw in a necklace, you'd look so fucking hot, Lan," she mumbled, leaning her head against the wall.

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[morgana-ren]

I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference. 

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction. 

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does. 

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne. 

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name. 

His real name. 

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet— 

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance. 

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.” 

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity” 

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.” 

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom. 

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe. 

He lashes out at her. 

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all. 

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness. 

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished. 

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?” 

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question. 

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something. 

From him.  

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest. 

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest. 

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you." 

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night." 

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair." 

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent. 

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued. 

He can’t. 

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death. 

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow. 

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded. 

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight. 

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct. 

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?" 

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love. 

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her? 

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes. 

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed. 

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic. 

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that. 

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely. 

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time. 

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

[hells-wasabii]

Hi could you pretty please do velvette x reader who is Carmilla youngest daughter and how her family reacts (plus zestial pls I ship him and Carmilla so I feel like he's a step dad)❤️

A/N: I blacked out and wrote this.... but yeeees LISTEN!! I love Velvette so much, its not even funny and i had a lot of fun with this prompt! I didn't realize how much i wrote for it until it was too late, and by that point, i really couldn't stop. but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! ps i honestly ship them too

Part 1 | Part 2

Character: Velvette

Type: Headcanons + Drabble (Velvette x reader who's Carmilla's youngest daughter, General with a bit of Angst and Fluff sprinkled in)

For Velvette, she actually entered into the relationship not really knowing who your parents were. You never brought it up and she never really asked. It didn't really matter to her, since, ya know, you're the one she's dating, not your mum and dad, or step-dad from what you've mentioned.

Honestly, she should've seen the similarities. They were there for sure, but let's face it, there are so many demons in hell that it was probably just a coincidence, right?

Carmilla also knew you were seeing someone as well, though she really figured that you would bring this special demon around when you were ready.

Oh, they were both wrong. So very wrong.

They found out simultaneously, of course, as cliche as it was. You were on an evening out with Velvette with no clear destination in mind, just simply enjoying the evening and each other's company when the next thing you knew you were face to face with your mother.

It... didn't go too well.

What had once been a peaceful evening nearly dissolved into a turf war all in an instant. If you hadn't been able to separate the two with a promise to talk to both separately later there was no doubt that everything in a three-block radius would be collateral.

Zestial and your sisters would find out soon thereafter, Carmilla of course telling them when they see her come home looking quite distraught.

As stated before, to Velvette, it really didn't matter. though it did sweeten the deal. It would give her plenty more opportunities for her to provoke the arms dealer, something that she already took a great deal of pleasure in.

Zestial would be skeptical of the relationship at the start but eventually comes to accept it fully. His patience won out this time. He's seen more than enough relationships like this go up in flames and he'd never want that for you. He considered you a daughter after all.

As for your sisters, both of them were simply happy that you were happy. They were more worried about how y'alls mom would react. And you can't tell me that they didn't already know, either.

Carmilla on the other hand... To her, family is everything. I mean, she killed an angel for you and your sisters. She'd do anything for her kids, and that includes keeping someone like that upstart from breaking your heart. She wholeheartedly believed that Velvette was only dating you to get one over on her. It really comes as no surprise when she goes all the way to Vee Tower to confront the youngest overlord herself.

"You need to stay away from my daughter."

The fashionista bit out a curse as a needle pricked her finger. Velvette doesn't usually startle easily, but shit, between her being completely focused on finishing and the fact that her workshop had previously been silent save for any sounds that she had been making herself, she thought that even the most stone-cold bitch would've jumped.

What good was the security for if those nitwits couldn't keep unauthorized demons out of her workshop? The influencer swore that if any blood got on the material for this dress she'd personally kill the guards and whoever-

Oh.

Of all the people she expected to see, Carmilla Carmine, the uptight weapons dealer, and apparent mum of her girlfriend, was not one of them. Or actually, scratch that. She was completely expecting this to happen sooner or later.

"Well, it sucks to suck then, wrinkles, I'm not going nowhere." The fashionista bit back, a smirk settling on her lips that quickly fell when the older woman tried to push her point.

"I know what you're trying to do and it-"

"Obviously you don't." All mischief gone from her tone, Velvette set her work to the side, careful not to crumple the fabric. She rose to her feet and began to cross the room to Carmilla, who in turn stood taller, determined not to let this miscreant make a mockery of her, her family, and most importantly her youngest daughter. "I hate to break it to you, but the only way I'll break it off is if SHE wants to."

Velvette paused, her eyes boring into Carmilla's with a conviction and passion that the arms dealer hadn't felt from the influencer before. When the younger woman spoke again, her voice was softer than before, laced with a sincerity that would leave the mother speechless.

"I love her."

Its this singular interaction that leads to a truce between the two (technically five if you include Zestial and the Vee's) Overlords. They would come to some sort of mutual understanding that if both of them were to be in your life, they'd have to play nice. At least in front of you. At Overlord meetings, well, that's a whole different story.

[itsnevercasual]

Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

-

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

-

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

-

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

-

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

-

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

-

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

[dmitriene]

cw: mentions of groping and attempts at harassment, reader stays her ground, simon falls in love and kind of a horny mutt, smut is not the main curse.

simon keeps his distance from relationships, he has enough problems of his own, he rarely stays in one place because of deployments, and very often risks his life.

until simon observes a situation in a bar that turns his world upside down, making him feel a prickly warmth in his lower stomach and a whirlwind of thoughts consisting only of the same words

— “she's gonna be mine„

it was so easy, you only had to go to the bar for the first time in a long time to unwind, only to get caught by an annoying, nasty guy who didn't want to stop trying to touch you and whisper nasty compliments to you like — “your tits looks so good in this shirt„ “wanna get out of here with me?„ “don't play hard to get„

until it all turned into screams and pig squeals, as soon as you poured the drink from your hands on his gross self, ruining not only his clothes, leaving them sticky, but also his image, attracting the attention of almost all the customers and also the bartender, a clever one who immediately called for help to get the man out before he did anything worse, not to mention his squeals about — “fucking bitch! that how you react to some attention?!„

it's really easy, responding with rudeness to rudeness and not tolerating humiliation just for the sake of saving face, not even yours, in public, instead keeping your nerve and addressing rude people in their own language, before wiping your hands with a napkin and going back to relaxing by ordering another drink.

and simon is not at all ashamed to admit to himself that the whole performance, carefully followed by his thawed chocolate eyes, not only made him aroused, which caused him to fidget in the seat, spreading his legs wider and squeezing the prominent bulge in his pants, tenting against the fabric of the black jeans —

but also allowed him to imagine how it would have been in different circumstances, yelling at him about completely different things — while being on top of him, riding his fat cock with rough rolls of your round hips and loud slaps of your plush ass against his relaxed, muscular thighs, the warm, gummy walls of your cunny clench around his meaty cock so good, making him go delirious with just one imagination how hot you would sound with his name and orders slipping past your soft, bitten from his hungry mouth, lips — “h — haa, yesyesyes, simon! stay just like that, s' good!„

it's all enough to make simon break out of his habitual image in which he tries to keep a low profile, he calls the waiter to ask him to extend your drink at his expense, and it's really more than enough for simon, because you don't hesitate to find his gaze among the numerous tables when you're told that another cocktail you didn't ask for is a compliment from another customer, and simon doesn't hide his communion either.

he catches your gaze back, feeling a thrilling shiver in his body, and raises his glass of bourbon to the thin line of pale lips that spread into a smile of their own, accord when he sees your biased squint, but even though his slightly intimidating balaclava and broad physique, you nod, thankfully, your lips moving in silent gratitude — “thank's, sir„

that was his green flag, to sit in the bar until you were about to leave, leaving the room and his line of sight, slipping out if only for a moment, because simon couldn't let you go home alone after all that, coming out after you and as gently as possible touching your shoulder to make you turn, your gaze falling onto his warm eyes before processing the hoarse words he said

— “le' me wolk you home, hm? nothing more, jus' a safe wolk, lovie?„

and will you refuse? after all, no matter how hard you try to think otherwise, something in his whole form inspires of unexpected safety, so maybe he's the one who will be your normal company tonight.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[simping-on-the-daily]

Claws, Katanas, Compassion and Ketamine

Summary: You were the link between Vanessa and Wade during their breakup. They get back together, creating the perfect triangle. And then Wolverine shows up too, because you totally live in a suite apartment that can fit everyone.

Notes: God I love poly, mutant!reader, gn!reader, I wrote this in one day and thirty minutes last night and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be obvious

Warnings: Gets real suggestive near the end but it's a fade to black, typical Deadpool content, from swearing to sex, reader does drugs and is very unhinged Wade’s just worse, not betaread we die like Worstie’s X-Men

The three of you ‘broke up’ in your shitty but homey apartment. Vanessa knew that her death caused Wade to try and kill himself numerous times, and dying shook her up a bit. After being rejected by the Avengers, Wade spent too much time hating himself and wondering where he went wrong, unintentionally neglecting his relationship with both of you

You were the red rope, the link, the buckle on the belt, it seemed. Shit got messy, Wade assumed too fast, but Vanessa wanted to be with you and you still loved Wade, vice versa. Vanessa tried to work stuff out herself, moving out, you stayed at the apartment, and Wade went to live with Blind Al again. You video chatted and texted everyday, and did your darndest to be by both sides.

Vanessa called you one day. She'd gotten the therapy, she said. Wanted to get back with Wade, try again at the least. You encouraged her to try and ask at Wade's surprise party, an extra present to add to the love in the late mutant’s life. Vanessa blew you kisses through the computer, and you mimicked catching them and placing the kisses on your cheek.

Then Wade got kidnapped, and came back two days later, claiming to have saved your entire universe, with some extra company.

“You must think saving the world's sexy, huh, Vanny?” You joked to Vanessa, lightly elbowing her after she and Wade made the promise attempted to try again over his second birthday dinner.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Vanessa put a finger to your chin in jest, and you accepted, embracing her with a gentle kiss to the lips.

“Already getting on it without me?” Wade interrupted, a metaphorical eyebrow raised in light-hearted query, poking in from the room you were in. Your response was simply to blow a kiss, which Wade quickly grabbed and pressed his hand against his cheek, swooning like a teenage girl. Vanessa simply giggled, and dragged you both back to join the party.

You all moved into Blind Al's apartment, in truth because you wanted to take Blind Al's coke. Wade said you couldn't, however, because that was the one thing Feige said they couldn't do. “What a pussy.” You grumbled, throwing the stash back into the floor where it belonged. And then Mary Puppins pissed on your leg, because apparently the nicest Deadpool hadn't potty trained his dog for some reason. Dick.

Oh, and the motherfucking Wolverine was here for some reason.

“Disney's gonna make him keep at this until he's 90, so we gotta give the senior citizen a house otherwise we'll get canceled for elderly abuse.” Wade 'explained’ to you in a whisper, and you nodded intently like you understood. Logan gave a middle finger in response.

He existed, that was for sure. You found him napping in the cupboard once because apparently Logan thought he was too good for the floor. He minded his business, staying out of the way. You accidentally caught him showering with the sweet smelling pink soap Wade and Vanessa shared and good god, those man’s abs were carved by Michalangelo. Fucking beautiful.

You, Wade and Vanessa sat down one night, Logan out at the bar that was full of football obsessed lunatics. And at the same time, you all spoke.

“I need that werewolf cock in me.”

“My god you guys, we need to get Peanut into bed with us, have you seen him?”

“We shouldn’t let him fourth wheel us, ask if he wants to be included.”

Vanessa glared at you both. You shrugged, while Wade did his best to look innocent.

The timing could’ve been worse, with you offering the deal with a Logan who was nearly hungover. Wade on the sofa like ‘one of those French girls’, Vanessa wore a casual hoodie with those really short shorts, and you were snorting heroin. Vanessa explained everything, and you’re pretty sure you hallucinated cartoon birdies as you spoke. Turns out, Wade did the same thing too, once. 

Logan accepted anyway, so he knew what he was going to get himself into.

Eventually, you grew to accept that Logan was a weasel, not a werewolf (which is so much cooler), and that you liked seeing him smile. Made you feel good, especially when he smiled because you were running his hands through his hair.

Like some fucked up hivemind, Vanessa and Wade shared your feelings too. However, unlike last time, Logan was the one who ‘confessed’, when the dude straight up purred in contentment when you tried to sit him down at your shitty table and well, you didn’t need to do much to gather the context as to why.

You and Logan shared the ‘Good’s Cabinet’, containing your most precious drugs and Logan’s more costly drinks, both saved for the most special occasions. You offered to take him to different bars that weren’t full of football frat-bros, and both of you found a new enjoyment in clubbing.

You would wear your best jewelry and drip, while Logan would wear an oversized jacket over his ‘wife beater’ shirt, worn over his Wolverine suit. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

“They asked for no pickles,” He hovered above you like your evil shadow clone, the worker at the front desk sweating on their head and probably under the collar.

“Haha, reference.” You jokingly poked Logan’s chest, before turning to the employee. “Don’t mind him. Never worked a day of retail in his life, doesn’t get the struggle.”

“Fuck you.” Logan added compulsory, though with the vitriol of a man whose moments of swearing have entirely lost their impact. You did get a new meal, no pickles included, so maybe the guard dog privileges are necessary.

Wade and you would often go out to the park on weekends, chilling on a bench as you gave your very persuasive remarks on all the cars Wade would sell on his job. He’d challenge you to get more ridiculous, and you'd do so with a wink and excessive references to sex.

“Get the boss to add truck nuts to all your autobots,” You suggested as you and Wade both got ice cream cones from the greatest truck of all time. “Would add some blitz to your bis, yaknow?”

“You wanna have a fivesome with our Honda Odyssey?”

“Give the objectums something good.” You shrugged, and Wade responded with a look to the audience, cosplaying as a bunch of trees in Discount Central Park.

Vanessa liked to drag you shopping, and you were content watching her search for the perfume bottles with the most ornate casing. God, she was so pretty, her hair put into that messy bun and casual dress.

“This bitch is ugly.” Vanessa said, holding up a silver bottle with a diamond bottletop. You heard a crunch, and tears quickly welled up in your eyes.

“Oh, so sorry sweetie, I wasn’t talking about you-” Vanessa held up her hands and shook them in a panic, putting the bottle back.

“It’s not that,” Your voice was barely a whisper. “I think I stepped on a ladybug.”

Vanessa looked down at the red flakes on the floor near your foot. “Sweetheart, that was an M&M.”

“Oh.” You stood there in silence for a few seconds, before turning back to Vanessa in the unnatural, freakish sort of way. “You getting anything from here?”

Vanessa smiled. “I think we should have an early lunch.” And you grinned too, as she rushed you over to the food court.

Your nights were chill nights, all four of you curled up on the bed, Mary Puppins curled beside Wade’s leg as he kept changing his position every few minutes. You would braid Vanessa’s hair as she scrolled through her phone, and Logan would lie down and accept head pats and bellyrubs with a content purr. Apparently weasels can do that.

Movie nights were great, too. Logan always got the best popcorn and you all had your designated seats. With a combination of heroin and ketamine you called ‘ketarin’, you snacked on your stash while you were all forced to share two bottles of Pepsi.

“Try it, babes,” You gestured your bucket of drugs towards Wade and Logan, the former sitting on the weasel’s lap as he tried to get comfy. “You’ll be able to smell sounds and taste colors. Stereotypical, I know, but life changing.”

Logan glared at you. “Get this fucker off me and I’ll consider it.”

“Wade, get off, I want Logan to taste my ketarin.”

The mercenary huffed in exaggeration, arms crossed. “No can do, sugar tits. Peanut here needs to learn his lesson.”

“What lesson?” You huffed. “Anyways, I forgive Logan, now get off I need him to try it.”

“He was a very bad boy today, and you know this, Y/N.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Get off him, Wade.” Vanessa spoke in that stern voice, and even though it was not directed to you, your collar was getting hot already. “We’ll sort it out later tonight, mkay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wade gave a mocking salute before getting off of Logan with a grumble.

“She’ll be making ya say that seriously later, you know?” You raised an eyebrow at the mercenary, who made a heart symbol with his hands as he winked.

You thrust your special bucket towards the huge, jacked man (hehe), his demands met. Logan sighed before digging his hands in, and shoved it down his mouth.

“I prefer corn starch.”

“You fucking take that back, you little slutty shitter-”

You would’ve beaten him to a pulp for disrespecting your recipe, but Vanessa gave a mock cough, getting you, him and Wade to look at her. “Legally Blonde or Die Hard?”

“It’s August, the fuck are we suggesting Die Hard for?” You huffed, arms crossed, snatching your ketarin back.

“Yeah, too early for festive cheer, sweetcheeks. And I can’t miss out on international girlboss Ms. Woods, who do you take me for?”

“Die Hard is barely a Christmas movie,” Logan scoffed, but didn’t oppose when Vanessa selected Legally Blonde with the remote.

You all relaxed, in your own fucked up way. You and Vanessa arm-wrestled over who got to have a sip of Pepsi (she won, you were trying to hold your bucket in the other hand). Wade’s commentary was louder then the movie, causing Logan to punch him, and Wade let out a murmur of ‘harder, mummy’. You snickered at Logan’s look of repulsion and confusion, looking over to Vanessa, who was most likely the mummy in question. Unfortunately for Logan, she was going onto the balcony to let Mary Puppins piss, so he looked at you.

“Something something we’ll deal with you later, something something what would Elle Woods think?”

Wade seemed to think Elle Woods thought badly of him, standing upright and flopped onto his seat. You put your hands through Logan’s hair, watching him relax from your movement, before yelping when Vanessa came back and accidentally sat down on your hand.

“Shit, so sorry.” Vanessa gave a quick kiss to your hand, and you dramatically swooned as you watched Elle Woods be a girlboss.

“Forgiven, honeybuns, for I could never be mad at such an exquisite princess, who’s hair was made from silk that Willy Wonka once commissioned-”

“Shove your Shakespeare-ass monologues up your ass and get a room.”

Blind Al spoke up, and all four of you turned to see her standing behind you, having just come home.

“This is our room, Al,” Wade countered. “We rented it fair and square while you played poker with all the other little old ladies like you.”

“You’re early.” Logan noted, holding onto a bottle as he turned back to the television.

“Wilson’s clients took a car on a joyride and crashed into the club. Drunk on that high, I reckon.”

“Were they driving with the truck nuts?”

“How the fuck would I know, stupid?”

“Ah.” You hung your head in exaggerated shame, before Al grabbed the wall and let it guide her towards her room.

“Your clients?” You asked Wade with a raised eyebrow after she was gone.

“Karen, Kenny and Twinkletoes.” He ‘answered’. “Now, back to our regular scheduled program of Elle Woo-......and the movie’s over.”

Logan snorted, and Wade gasped, turning to face him. “I’ll have you know that it was a sacrifice I made, I tell you! I gave it all up!”

“You’d give anything up for a cornchip,” Logan shot back, but Vanessa gave a loud clap that stopped the conversation. You placed your empty bucket in the sink halfheartedly before turning to your girlfriend.

“Back to bed. We’ve got some behavior to correct.” Vanessa commanded, heading to your shared room.

“Yes, mummy.” Wade answered in his most ‘uwu’ voice, leading you to groan and Logan to shove him lightly as he followed Vanessa.

“A bit too early on the petnames, buddy.”

Wade stuck his tongue at you, and you flipped the bird before following Logan, who was following Vanessa, and Wade then followed you like some fucked up, freakish line of baby ducks crossing the road.

And you would change none of it.