#ten seconds is decent

[helpimstuckinafandom]

Me starting another bg3 run where I will make virtually all the same decisions in mostly the same order as if there isn't different branching paths

[the-voice-of-night-vale]

u know what i've been thinking about. how the economy expects you to be, right now, at a job you've been at and consistently getting raises in for like, ten years. it's almost like the implication is "well yeah, you'll be able to live off this job in three, five, ten years if you stick with it and grow in the company" which is all fine and dandy, but i kind of need to live right now

[litres-of-cocaine]

all the losers who think donnie darko’s theatrical cut is better than the director’s cut should never watch a movie again, actually.

[timothylawrence]

gaming agenda is currently ->

play new vegas (?? if it doesn't crash my pc again and if i can overcome the Fear)

replay tales and make gifs (sorry im tryna see all of rhys' deaths)

finally cave and attempt to play bl 3 (Moxxi's dlc and seeing kat are the only things keeping me going for this tbh).

play deathloop

[queerloquial]

so eso has had different purchasable assistants for years now, bankers and merchants and other services, nothing new. nothing i really cared to look into, until this week when they add this adorable banker. who is a dog. i am not immune to the charms of a cute fluffy dog.

for the first time i open the assistant tab of the store to see how much eri is, bc i've got 4500 crowns saved up! surely that's more than enough!

no this fucker's 5000 crowns. they all are.

do you know what else 5k crowns could get you

a full chapter (which includes an absolute fuckton of new content) is 3500 crowns.

a dlc (vaguely 3/4 the content of a chapter) is 2000.

a dungeon pack (much smaller but, still a decent amount of content you actively engage with) is 1500.

and the mere convenience of not having to take ten seconds to port to a city to use a bank is 5000.

which, mind you, is *$40*. for the exact same cost as an entire chapter and dlc together, you can get one (1) mildly convenient dog

[calandrinon]

Let's be honest, if you were canonised it would be after a holy war against the ottoman empire...

Maybe you'll become the patron Saint of cartographers then?

i mean

why wait until afterwards? if I were going to die for my faith (such as it is), being absolutely annihilated in the first five seconds of battle against the ottomans would certainly be on brand :)

I would gladly patronise cartographers though! We have already thoroughly established the coolness of maps in tags, so obviously it follows that mapmakers must also be cool 0:)

[ramonathinks]

HIGHEST BIDDER.

summary: tired of your virginity, you decide to auction it off — but you weren’t thinking it would be leader of the notorious group, onychinus who offers the most money of $10,000,000.

cw// 18+ virginity loss, soft sex, small plot but not really, pet names, slight? knife play, oral, she/her pronouns, choking, finger sucking, praise, dumbification, degradation, slight fingering, corruption kink( if you squint), female guided masturbation (? kinda? idk!), squirting, attempt at aftercare, the twins have a cameo. wc: 5.3k

tagging: @lvminy @kissxcore @sunasbon @preciousamethyst (hope it’s okay to tag you guys 🥹🫶🏾) @satorubi

You could only assume it was Luke or Kieran who had told Sylus where you were and perhaps what you were up to. Or maybe it was that damn crow, who insisted you stayed inside. But really, it didn’t matter who said anything because Sylus was grabbing you before a single hand flew up. 

“10 million.” His voice was sharp — a hint of anger, annoyance and frustration on him, it oozed off his body and with the dazzling ruby eyes of him staring everyone down… they got the hint that he was throwing around. He was pissed. Too pissed to hear what anyone else had to say. Power rolled off of him in waves everyday but it was obvious that this day, and this girl and this place was provoking him. 

The auctioneer's lips trembled in his presence. “T-ten million going at once.” He awkwardly scanned the room, not a cough of a mumble was heard. “Going twice.” Breads of sweat gathered around his forehead and he swallowed. “Sold!” He exclaimed, nodding his head rapidly in Slyus’ direction, guiding the both of you towards a secluded area.

He scoffed and tightened his grip on your body, it took him little to no effort to hand over his card and in a few seconds the transaction was completed; a portion for them and the bigger sum of the money going to you. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you briefly. 

You couldn’t help but feel like the stupidest person ever and perhaps at this moment… you were. Being stuck inside and with nowhere to go most days because of the claims of dangers awaiting you, it was tiring. Plus, you had urges, like anyone else – womanly and carnal urges, desires and fantasies. You couldn’t help yourself when Luke mentioned it in passing and Kieran slapped him on the head telling him to shut up about it; it was simply interesting and something Linkon City would’ve never allowed. 

You hated the silence. “Are…are you mad at me?” Walking out of the pale building and to the dark cold outside, moving close to his motorcycle. Looking around you think about how the tenebrific ambience that’s casted over this place, it really wasn’t the same as where you grew up, time moves differently here, almost. 

“You went into the N109 Zone alone, potentially putting yourself in danger and you want to know if I’m mad at you?” He speaks with a hard tone, his touch scorching hot against your arm, his touch addicting. “Of all the times to be reckless…” He does a heavy sigh, followed by pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He’s handing you a helmet and putting his own, sitting down and waiting for your arms to wrap around his waist before he drives off. The wind rushes through you swiftly and no matter how many times you’re on his motorcycle, you can’t help but to feel fear course through every fiber of your body. 

Time always seemed to move faster when you were with him and it moved especially fast being on his motorcycle, he drove dangerously and it always led to you clinging more closer to him than you realized. 

Upon making it back, you jumped off the motorcycle and handed him the helmet, shaking your hair to make sure it looked halfway decent. 

Stepping back inside of the Headquarters of Onychinus, Luke popped his head around the corner and you mustered up the angriest glare that you could make him cower away. You could hear him and Kieran chattering about something. “No use in being mad at them, you brought this on to yourself.” Sylus told you, ushering you into his room.

You just sighed, sitting with your legs crossed on a singular chair that was near a small table in the room. The air felt more tense and uncomfortable than the other times you were here and you couldn’t help but to think of how for once you wished that Mephisto was here so that you wouldn’t be alone with him, not with this temper he clearly had. “Listen Sylus, it was a stupid thing and I know that—”

Lightening wasn’t as quick as him when he grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you. Nothing with him was ever warm and inviting, always hard and even a bit mean but luckily not forceful. His tongue licked at your lips and you complied with no hesitation. His tongue felt hot against your own, it sent flames up your body and you could feel everything in the pit of your stomach and to your throat. When he pulled away, he looked at you and from the way he smirked… you knew you looked out of it. Your eyes alone felt heavy and your knees were wobbling, too weak to stand. With your eyes on his, you watched the dazzling red become harder to look away from. 

The voices came strong and with a clear message: “fuck him… fulfill your desires…” they spoke to you and you both loved and hated the throbbing sensation that followed. You wanted to remind yourself that he was an enemy… it was too hard to do when he looked like he did and with a voice as deep and rich, it was almost unbearable. Yes, he was an enemy but you couldn’t lie to yourself; you knew the real reason you went to the auction was to make him jealous. You don’t know what it is about him that makes you react the way it does but it burns inside of you and to your very core. 

When the light from his eye dimmed and with rapid blinks you were back and felt more stable. “Your little mind always tells me more than your lips do. If you wanted me… I would’ve given you all of me with no hesitation.” It sounded like a promise and it swayed you, you leaned into his arms. “I can try to be gentle.” He whispered close to you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Sylus,” His name trembles out of your lips. “I want you to touch me. I want you to make me…” You squeezed your thighs together. “I want you to make me feel good.” You felt too vulnerable in his presence but the truth slipped from your lips so fast as if you were forced to.

He looked as if something took over him, desire deep in his ruby eyes and you couldn’t look away from him, too turned on. “Take your clothes off.” His husky voice said above you. He didn’t move, just watched you shuffle your clothes off until you were in nothing but your panties; when you moved to take those off, it was then that he stopped you. “I’ll handle the rest.” He assured you before he laid you down — your head on his soft black pillows and your body rigid. 

You don’t know where the knife came from until it’s rubbing up your calf and moving its way up to your underwear, the cool metal piercing your skin just barely. Your breathing labored and measured, trying not to show your fear but it was failing you. “Stay still, I would hate to nick your pretty skin.” The knife tickled your thighs when he finally snipped open the front that held your secret possession.

He groaned at the sight, audible and bit his lips to contain himself more. You wanted to cover yourself but when your legs moved even a tiny bit to hide, he spread them wider and the cool breezes from around the room slapped across your feverish cunt. There was a smile so deep on his lips as he spread your lips open for him to see. “You ever touched down here?” The way he said it, as if you were all innocent, he narrowed his eyes when you nodded yes. “Show me.”

“H-huh?” You stuttered out. “I can’t just…” 

“Just show me what you normally do… when you’re all alone… in your room…under the covers.” He says it slowly, letting you absorb every word he says.

You’re bare and can feel just how comfortable his comforter set was. Your cunt wet and inviting but his eyes stay on yours, which makes it harder for you to breathe. “I just kinda just do…” Clumsily you spread your lips and simply slid your fingers around yourself, barely focusing on your clit but already overwhelmed. “But I can’t make myself cum, ‘m too sensitive.” His eyes transfixed on your fingers and pussy as you work yourself, your face contorting between pleasure and something else before you stop, heavily breathing. 

“Oh? No wonder you’re so unsatisfied, you don’t know your own body. Good thing I’m here to help.” He’s closer, sitting at the end of the bed yet so close to you. He spreads your legs and you can see a glimpse of excitement dancing in his eyes. He inspects you – stroking up your legs and inching his way up and down your thighs, ignoring how with every touch your breath hitches and your toes curl. “I haven’t even touched you that much and you’re already a mess.” He spreads you; opens you up and closes your folds again completely immersed in the gushy noises that follows.

“This,” Sylus says, spreading your sticky lips apart and his breathing getting heavier. “This is your pretty little clit.” He taps the bud with the rough pads of his fingers. “She sits right here behind these lips.” His fingers are lighting a fire and trailing it around your body. “Open these up again… and this,” you gasp, his fingers sitting right in the spot you never touch. “This twitching little hole? That’s where I’m going to fill you up.” He chuckles humorously, circling the hole and gathering the leaking wetness there, your hips rising on their own accord before he pulls away. 

“Now, your turn.” 

“But I—” You’re close to tears, wetness gathered at your lash line daring to fall. “I can’t, I don’t think I can do it like you.” You hated how needy you sounded and how clingy you were being. 

“I hardly did anything. Just simple touches, to show you where everything was. Pleasure points that you should follow. Did you want more? Did you like how I touched you, little one?” You couldn’t help but to gasp at the nickname, it filled your body with more wetness and he watched it leak down to his sheets. 

Your insides continue to flutter at the name and your face feels hot. “This is what you paid for right? Might as well get your fill from it.” You try to sound bold and intimidating but his demeanor just softens at your attempt. 

“As you wish.” He bends down and cups your cheek before placing a delicate kiss on your lips and you can’t help but to squeal a bit at the warmth that his lips bring you. His fingers brush your face before he moves his mouth down to your neck, licking a stripe before sucking on your skin. You can feel his lips curling into a smile at every noise you make. “I could do this all day… but where’s the fun in that? I’m sure you’ll make even better noises when I touch here.” Cupping the palm of his hand and gently slapping it against your core, your back arches and a whiny moan slips out. 

“See? So much better.” You hate the smug look on his face, his red eyes radiant in the dim room staring you down makes you self conscious and ready to hide yourself from him. “I’m going to put my fingers right here,” His breath tickling your core. “Then my tongue, okay?”

You just nod…unable to speak, he watches your face and holds his fingers up to your lips.“Put 'em in your mouth for me, get' em all wet…” Your tongue slides between them, saliva spilling out of the corners of your mouth. “Good girl,” he patted your head, ruffling your hair and you couldn’t help the feeling that took over you. Your mind was everywhere yet nowhere, just him… that was all your mind could think of and be consumed with. The praise had your body on a different kind of high.

He uses those same cool wet fingers to open you wider. Slowly dipping inside of you, circling your center and easing inside, making you tighten up. “Don’t clench, just relax. It’ll only hurt more if you do that.” You take a few deep breaths, allowing your chest to fill up and expand before a release. He spreads your lips and he just looks. There’s a hum on his lips before he kisses your clit; full tongue running across the sensitive area. Your back lifts and arches off the bed but putting his hand on your lower stomach – he forces you to take it. There’s a look in his eyes that’s daring you to disobey him and it makes your tummy flutter. 

He puts his full tongue against your clit and you try not to move but your body trembles. His fingers draw circles around your thighs, inching closer to your slit. It makes you realize that he was simply distracting you to alleviate the slight pain from when his fingers actually slipped inside. When they did, you gasped aloud. “Sly–us… please.” Your legs threatened to close but you forced yourself to keep them open and it took a lot out of you.

“Good girl.” He muttered, obviously appreciating your efforts. “So tight…” He tries to move his finger but you only flinch and groan, which makes him use two fingers from his opposite hand to rub lazy circles against your clit. That alongside your breathing helps your body relax and brings a lot of ease to you, opening yourself up. He slowly strokes your insides, taking his time to drag it forward and back, slipping it out before bringing it back inside. You can’t help but notice how eyes flicker from your lower half to your face occasionally but you don’t say anything. “Deep breath.” He tells you before he slips another finger in beside the other. 

You whine when he moves them both inside of you, your body rocking against his fingers with a circular motion of your hips. He opens them up before closing them again, you grip the sheets. He felt so deep inside of you with just his fingers… the real thing would be different – longer and thicker – you didn’t know if you were ready. “You’re overthinking aren't you? Just focus on how you’re feeling right now.” His eyes are on yours, his fingers curling inside of you so deliciously that you forget to breathe. When he takes them out, you feel incredibly empty, your hole clenching for more. You're huffing and shaking when you look his way again, he’s opening and closing the two fingers that were inside of you; playing with the slick that was there before he sucks them off. He slips them back inside, sliding them on your inner walls and pressing upwards – the pads of his fingers rubbing circles inside of your soft insides; which makes you squeeze his fingers tight. Rubbing your clit again to soothe you, he slowly curves them as he slips them out – you gasp at the feeling.

He grips your hips and forces you to slide down, his breath knocking the wind out of you when you feel it right by your slit. Your fingers tightly gripping the duvet in anticipation, awaiting his tongue. You gasp when his tongue circles over the hole, nudging there just a bit before he licks up a wet trail; moving back to your clit. He plants a small kiss on the pink throbbing bud, then another before he takes it in his mouth and sucks. His tongue moving around in shapes you can’t make out until you feel the hard S he craves in with his mouth, his head rocking against your legs. When the Y comes, he’s peeling back the hood of your clit and flicking the initial inside rapidly. He slides his face down before he finishes, he pulls your sticky lips apart and dives inside. The tip of his tongue sliding back and forth achingly and painfully slow, his head shaking to the sides when he licks upwards, curving his tongue to hit a particular spongy spot that makes your thighs shake. Your fingers now dig through his silvery hair, pulling when he does a harsh lick against your core. “Taste so good…” He mumbles, rolling your clit between his tongue.

The obscene noises that you hear comes from his mouth feasting on you – slurping, sucking and even the noises of his own groans. Groans that were akin to a dying man giving his last prayer, his groans were drowning out the sounds of your own moans. “I can’t take it–” Slushing sloppy noises are what drowns out your moans and pleads. “Sylus please…” You can feel your own wetness under your bottom and embarrassment floods through you, and at the right time his nose bumps into your clit and you grind into it more with a huff; nothing but useless babbling coming out of your mouth. Another lick causes your toes to curl and your body to twist and coil when a leaking orgasm passes through you; which doesn’t stop him from sucking everything that you have to offer. 

 His hair now disheveled from you tugging and pulling on it — his face sopping wet from your juices and you can’t help but look away from him, he sits completely upwards. “Look at me.” Your eyes back on his, biting your lip before you looked down at the bulge in his pants – it looked so big and your mouth ran dry. It was an accident and unconscious thing but you licked your lips while staring and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “You look really interested in pleasing me.” His brow is arched and his voice low. “This is going to be fun.” He said more to himself than you, standing and unzipping his pants. 

You were still completely naked yet he was clothed – almost fully – just his cock sitting out of his pants standing hard and proud against his stomach. This sight before you made you remember who was in power and just how much power you lacked. But wordlessly, you got on your knees. “You want it? Want my cock? ‘Can see how you’re panting for it.” He was truly condescending and knew how to put you in your place, but the way he made you cum made you see nothing but starlight and you wanted to please him.“Come and take what you want sweetie, take what you need.” You stared – 7 and a half inches of a tanned cock and two firm balls blocked your view of everything else – the tip leaking with white sticky precum dripping down. You trace your tongue up the sides, licking up anything you can to get the taste of him before you kiss the head; then you open your mouth around him and let your teeth run against the sides before you suck him in.

“Watch your teeth, kitten.” His nose scrunched up and he closed his eyes, his shoulders growing relaxed, you take what you can’t fit in your mouth in your hand and give it a few gentle strokes. “And be careful around the— thehead.” He says when your tongue runs a circle around the tip and one wet suck. His face relaxes for a second and you can’t help but to look him over. You knew he was good looking but right now with pleasure all over him, he looks a thousand times better. 

The heaviness in your mouth felt so foreign but you welcomed it, the masculine salty taste that followed when you bobbled your head back and the way your cheeks puffed out because of him; it felt good. Your saliva dripped on the floor beneath you, your technique sloppy but when Sylus gripped the back of your head, you felt like you were on cloud nine. He gently guided you, pulling you forward and back – letting your mouth take him as deep as you can, before he pulled you back off. He inches himself inside, you suck and swallow around him, hearing him groan above you sent your body into a frenzy. You choke a bit but he keeps a steady pace to train your mouth again, muffled moans erupt from you when he moves your head again, hitting a deeper spot almost reaching the back of your throat. 

“Such a good girl…” He cooed and a whine slipped through your lips, his praise making your thighs clench together. When he finally pulled you off, strings of spit broke off from your mouth and his dick. “I’m going to come inside of you.” He tells you, but you can barely register what he’s saying too far gone on your high of being used. You’re smiling a dopey grin and he squeezes the sides of your face to make you look at him, your glossy eyes in a permanent daze. “That was only the beginning, are you sure you can handle the rest?”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” Your voice is trembling and hoarse as you speak. You wanted to feel him cum inside of your throat but maybe you were being too greedy, your body swayed. He lifted you up from the floor, your knees burning. You lay there, your eyes droopy as you wait for him, all you hear is movement and a zipper before he returns to you. 

“You belong to me, got it?” His hand wrapped around your throat. “Your body is mine to please, to fuck with… to do whatever I want with. And I don’t plan on letting you forget it.” His voice is hard and mean again, his jaw tense as he stares in your eyes.

“I knowww.” A whimper mixed with a whine comes from your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just sighs. Your body trembles and you sniffle, it makes him cradle your hand in his hands.

“You’re shaking, are you that scared?” He asks you gently, as if you’re a flower who needs tending to. Your eyes wide but say nothing. He laced your fingers together, his hands covering the both of yours in an iron grip. “It’s okay kitten, I won’t hurt you.”

You yelp upon feeling a cool sensation hit your lower half, him rubbing it more inside. He’s hovering over you, his beautiful face watching over yours as he slides his cock over your pussy, not daring to push it inside. He just moves his hips well enough that you’re gasping every time, his tip bumps your clit and you bite your lip, your nails ready to pierce his back. You lean into his touch and he kisses your jaw, trailing them down and gently nibbling at your collarbone, sucking on the skin. “Relax,” He says, playing with your wet folds, he starts to play with your clit again and you shiver. “I’ll be gentle.” Did Sylus truly know the meaning of the word? You’re wailing when he slides just the head in, barely. Easing a small bit of his tip in and fucking you just a tiny bit. 

Then you feel him nudging more inside of you – his head thick and the squelching noises of him moving in make you tense up, but he whispers in your hair to calm you down and then you’re sucking him in. Your voice is gurgly when more of him slides in, a new found warmth inside of you. “Still so tight…” A strained groan fell from his lips, you reached from him with tears in your eyes. Sylus didn’t move, he rubbed your hair but stayed there then he did a tiny jerk of his hips, the stretch makes you sob, but you know that he’s only barely inside of you and that there was more to come. He tells you to take a deep breath and you listen, not wanting to be in any more pain; he slips more of it inside, a thumb on your clit. He presses his thumb and does small circles around it – strangled sounds come out of your lips – he still hasn't moved. 

You look at him, you put his face in your hands and look in his eyes, telling him just how ready you are for this. He’s working his cock in slowly, inch by inch but he looks like he's scared to overwhelm you. When his pelvis meets yours you gasp…your hips buckle when he completely bottoms out, a sigh dying on your lips and tears free falling… it didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to but the pain still lingered. Your eyes rolling back and you squeal, your fingers holding tightly against him. “Oh…oh… Sylus.” Panting – your eyes probably filled with hearts — as you look at him, lovingly.  The stringing stretch subsides when he does a small thrust, not too deep but enough to make you feel good. He pulls back and pushes himself back inside, watching your expression as you take him. 

He’s being as gentle as he can, you notice. His hips thrusting soft, just nudging the soft spots inside of you. He pushes inside of you again, the first painless thrust and you both moan. Your belly tenses when he speeds up and the noises of wet skin slapping makes your body heat up. He’s rocking his hips against yours, circling his hips clockwise in a way that makes you shudder. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, he fucks you a bit harder than before. The sound of his balls slapping against you is all you can hear – his strokes getting deeper as he slows down, you look down and see the strings of wetness coating his cock as he stuffs you full of it again. “God, feels so good inside of you.” His mouth slightly agape.

 A small squirt of wetness spills out of you as he thrusts inside, some of it under your bodies and some of it splashing upwards as he digs deeper inside of you. You’re squirming and squirting, eyes crossing over when you hear him say: “Marking your territory, kitten?” It only makes you gush more, squeezing around him. You can feel his deep chuckles as it vibrates from his chest to yours – he’s always mocking you but right now you could care less —the way your body feels has you ready to bend to his whim. “This little kitten and these sharp claws…” he hisses when you press your nails deeper into his skin, you dig them down his back. The long drag of his cock felt amazing against your walls, a small sharp thrust inside has you both grunting.“Clenching around me so hard.” He kisses the top part of your head and you relish in how caring he’s been, you almost forgot how any of this started.

“What’s my name?” His voice thick with a bit of annoyance, it was clear that he didn’t forget how any of this started. You felt full, lifting your hips trying to meet his thrust, his cock hitting spongy parts inside of you that made you see nothing but bright colors.

“Sy-Sylus!” Your eyes rolling back in your skull and your mouth in a permanent ‘o’ shape as he’s inside of you, pure bliss in the form of the gentle thrusting of his body into yours. 

“Who do you belong to?” His teeth clenched and he’s squeezing your waist hard, staring at you… his ruby red eyes glowing in the dim room. His pace picking up faster, squelching plopping noises from the two of you grew louder.

“Youuuu. Sylus.” You admit, puffy pussy sucking him inside. “I belong to you.” He touches your stomach, gazing at it as he fucks himself inside of you. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?” His hand on your throat. Grinding his pelvis against yours, your clit pulsing against him. He stops and slides out before he jerks back in, gripping your thighs.

“Sylus!” You’re breathing hard and feel him twitching inside of you when you say his name again.

“And you tried to give it away.” He slapped your cunt and you jolted, a small squirt coming out of you. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is muffled and tears fall; you feel so good and you can’t believe you made the stupid decision in the first place when you could’ve asked him to do this… to make you feel this good. Closing your eyes, you focus on the feeling. He’s stretching you out, squeezing your ass in both of his hands to further spread your body open for his pleasure.

“Eyes on me. Keep looking at me. Look at me while I touch you. Look at me when I make you cum.” Your eyes still closed and he sighs. “Look at me or I’ll stop.”  He gives a sloppy wet thrust pumping his cock inside of you. 

That simple statement made your eyes snap open, “Sylus please…please don’t stop!”  There’s a tremor in your voice and the bed creaks at the same time; your wet walls swallowing him deeper inside. “Please fill me up. I need it.” You’re babbling and the curve of his cock hits a new spot inside of you, the tip grazing your cervix just slightly… just enough to make you feel good and to gasp around him. 

It felt like he was going to devour you.

And you craved it.

So you let him. 

It was one last thrust that was your undoing as you both cum, your back arched and your body feeling completely boneless, wetness slipping out of you as he pulled away. Your body shaking, he kisses you and pulls you close to his bare chest. As you’re drifting to sleep you hear him whisper in the sweetest voice, “I truly do adore you.” 

But maybe you dreamt it.

When you wake, your body is covered in sweat and a heavy arm has you caged in. There’s a dull ache between your thighs and you feel wetness there too, you shiver. You slide from behind the arm and attempt to stand. “Fuck.” You mutter, looking for your clothes or for any clothes. You mentally slap yourself upon remembering that Sylus cut your panties as you rummage through his closet. You pull out a folded plain dress and slip it on, making your way out of his bedroom. You close the door gently so that he can stay asleep and you walk towards the main hall.

“Sounds like Boss really taught you a lesson.” You heard snickering and with a slight limp to your walk, you moved over to slap Luke’s arm.

“Looks like it too.” Kieran said, making you hit him too. “It’s not like we didn’t hear it, you two were so loud that Mephisto left and I swear before he left that he tried to cover his ears. I would’ve done it too, if I thought it would drown off the ‘Sylus don’t stop’ you kept moanin.” Mimicking your voice made you kick him in the shin, which he yelped at. 

“Both of you just hush. I-I’m leaving.” You make your way for the door as they trail behind you.

“So this is you attempting to sneak off?” Luke snorts, you know he’s rolling his eyes behind the mask.

“Yeah right, boss really isn’t letting you leave now.” Kieran chuckles.

“They’re right, you know.” For a split second your body is lifted in the air and slammed against the front of a hard naked chest and for possibly the millionth time today, your body felt hot all over. “You really won’t be leaving my side now.”

But you already knew that.

[thinkinonsense]

forgive if it’s a bit scatterbrained but hear me out… some sort of reverse corruption w old man!logan >///< i just feel like he won’t be the type of guy who’d immediately be into having a thing w young!reader. i feel like he won’t even take it seriously at first or there’s def gonna be more resistance from him, he’d probably feel initially repulsed by the idea of even beginning to think of them that way given how young they are. but reader is bold bold, so they’re gonna keep pushing and pushing until they’ve got him where they want him. but even if she’s practically sinking down on him, logan is still probably gonna be like “fuck’s wrong with you, huh? old enough to be your fucking grandfather, kid. c’mon, you don’t really want this.”

poor old man’s just too decent for his own good :(

old man!logan x young bold fem!reader *mdni

logan couldn't stand you. how young and ambitious you were; how you couldn't just take no as a fuckin' answer. you thought it was cute but logan found it rather obnoxious. you were persistent with your attraction towards the older man; frequenting the only bar in town that logan was still welcomed in.

"what are we drinking tonight, lo?" your voice was a siren song that he wished he could turn off.

"whiskey." he mumbles against the glass.

the mean glare he sent your way would've made anyone else run in fear, but not you. instead smiling up at him with bambi eyes. at first, logan thought you were just dumb, not picking up on his signals but as it turned out, you're just stubborn.

every friday night, you sat on the stool next to him. you should've been flirting with guys your age by the pool table but no, you would rather get rejected by the old man who drinks alone. at one point even the bartenders started to think that you two were together which logan quickly shut down.

"c'mon, at least let me pretend that i'm yours," you whine, swirling around your second fruity drink tonight.

"you don't want to 'be mine', kid," he said in a stern voice, similar to one you would use on a child who won't behave.

"aaand...why not?" you ask him, crossing your arms and already getting pissy. "don't gimme that bullshit about you being 'too old' either."

"has anyone ever told you that you're-"

"pretty? hilarious? tight? yeah, a few times actually."

logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. he tries to give you some sympathy but there's only so many times that you can burn your hand on the stove until you learn your lesson.

"look, cherry..." logan sets his glass down. you adored when he called you, cherry because that meant he was paying attention to you and what you drank, always having to top it off with a cherry. "i'm probably your grandfather's age-"

"don't care." you interrupt him, leaning forward to stare into his eyes and run a hand through his hair. "your grey hair is so hot, lo. should let me pull on it sometime."

logan was finding it more difficult to resist you. almost letting out a groan when you pull slightly. logan could smell your arousal forming; clouding his vision.

"why don't you throw your panties in someone else's direction, huh? i'm sure those boys over there wouldn't mind." logan snarls, getting fed up with your attitude.

it wasn't that he didn't find you attractive, quite the opposite really. maybe if he was younger or you were older then he wouldn't mind your flirty personality so much but that's not the way that the world works. logan is -whether or not he wants to admit it- old and he didn't have time to put up with your whiney shit.

"okay." you shrug, getting up from the barstool.

logan doesn't believe that you'll actually go talk to those boys. in one minute your ass will be back here annoying him. he was sure of it.

then ten minutes passed and giggles were still falling from your lips. nothing the guys said was actually funny but you played it up to look better. there was one guy who you actually didn't mind talking to; both of you went to the same college and shared the same major. for a second, you'd completely forgotten about the man burning holes into your side.

the two of you talked for a while, exchanging stories while you leaned against the pool table in your tiny cut-off shorts. logan watched those boys gawk at you; staring everywhere but your face.

"i know right! her class was horrible! all she did was-" your words fell short when someone grabbed your upper arm, attempting to pull you away from the guy, who you think his name was josh, or john, or jake? you couldn't really remember and you definitely didn't care.

"c'mon kid, i'll give you a ride home." logan growled in your ear.

"oh, it's okay!" you chirp like a little bird at him. "think i'll find another way home tonight."

it's just a facade, logan told himself. you were just trying to prove a point. always stubborn.

"i'm not messing 'round, kid-"

"leave her alone, old man." the kid interrupted, giving logan a push.

logan snarls, about to teach this boy a lesson but you are faster; heel-kicking him in the nuts. the boy hunched over, allowing you to be ear level with him.

"fuck off." you spit, angrily before walking away.

logan looked at you completely dumbfounded. he had no other choice than to follow you blindly outside of the bar. he found you leaning against his truck; under the dim street light, logan would've misplaced you for some angelic figure.

"mind takin' me home, lo?" you ask him, for once not acting like some horny little rabbit towards him.

he nods, fishing out his keys. you give him directions to your apartment. the silence in the car makes you think logan's mad at you for real this time. you pushed it too far, embarrassing him and yourself this time. logan wasn't this dirty old perv who would actually give you the time of day, and maybe it was time for you to face that reality.

"i just wanted to say sorry for everything." your voice is low and quiet. afraid logan won't even acknowledge you. "i know that i should've left you alone a long time ago. you wouldn't want someone like me anyway-"

the car came to a dead halt in the driveway. logan turns to face you and you fear the worst; afraid he will yell at you.

"do you seriously think i wouldn't want you?" he asks. "you haven't left my mind since the day we bumped into each other at the bar and i spilled my whisky down your shirt. remember that, cherry?"

you nod, carefully. that day was imprinted in your mind. your friends and you were celebrating your birthday when logan bumped into you at the bar on accident. he frantically apologized for ruining your white shirt which you suggested for him to lick you clean. it had been so long since someone had flirted with him that he didn't know how to react.

"i'd never seen someone look so pretty and sticky at the same time." logan's hand gently caresses your cheek.

"could've seen it more often if you had fucked me like i wish you would've." the words fall out without pressure, making logan smirk. no matter how much you tried, you were desperate for him.

"you've got one dirty fuckin' mouth, cherry."

"it gets dirtier than that."

"hmm... don't know if that's possible."

"i could show you if you like."

the offer hangs hot in the truck. logan leans back into his seat, asking for forgiveness on what he's about to do. three light taps on his thigh and you crawl right into it.

"atta fuckin' girl, cherry." he groans as you grind against his crotch and bite on his neck.

"also for the record, the only person i want to have my panties is you, logan." you purred in his ear, referring back to your earlier conversation at the bar.

"i know, sweetheart. i know." he chuckles, watching you kick off your shorts and underwear.

once your back in his lap, you unbuckle his belt and wait eagerly for him to have his way with you. yet, logan doesn't offer anything.

"if you want to fuck an old man like me then you need to get used to doin' all the work, cherry." he says, half-joking. "can't keep up with an eager little thing like you."

you knew his game. to scare you off by acting like an asshole but you didn't mind doing the work to get what you want.

"fine with me." you smile, hands inching towards the glasses that hang on his button-down. "can't forget these, want you to see what you do to me."

logan groaned when you pulled him out of his pants, pumping him a few times before aligning him to your entrance. he was a bit bigger than you would've guessed, only making you wetter. just as you are about to sink down onto him, logan stops you, holding your hips in the air.

"fuck's wrong with you, cherry? you still want this, huh?" he taunts you, only getting a whine from you in response. "such a desperate little thing."

"p-p-please, logan." your hips wiggle against his tight grip. "want you... need you."

without another word, he lowers you down onto his length. both of you moan at the adjustment. your nails claw at logan's shoulders and you feel him twitch inside of you at the pain.

"happy now?" logan groaned, watching you bounce up and down on your own. his hands stayed on your waist, squeezing at the fat of your hips. "got what you fuckin' wanted."

"mhm..." you nod along dumbly agreeing to whatever he says. too busy trying to get his white button-down off of him. frustrated, you break open all the buttons.

once his chest was exposed, you litter it with kisses and dark bruises. for the first time, logan was happy that his healing abilities were slowing down so now he can admire your artwork longer. you grab both of his giant palms bringing one hand to your chest and taking the other thumb into your mouth, licking the pad of it before moving it down to your clit. tracing circles in a way that made your head fall back with your mouth wide open.

"do you always get this wet for older men or is it just for me, sweetheart?" logan asked, fist full of your hair.

"j-just you, lo..." you gasp.

logan's lips found your jaw, kissing up to your chin before capturing your lips. he wasn't a fan of fruity drinks but he loved the taste they left in your mouth. your backs against the wheel lazily and logan can tell that your orgasm is approaching.

"don't give up now, cherry." he teased. "you were doing so good, being a perfect little slut in my lap. what happened to her?"

you were too fucked out to say anything back and he knew it. logan finally took pity on you and started pistoling into you, listening to every pretty curse word that fell from your trembling lips.

"where do you want me, sweetheart?" logan grunts in your ear, pulling at the lobe as you come down from your high.

"inside, please."

that's all logan needed to hear to spill inside of you. the warmth indescribably flooded you. the two of you collapse in each other's arms, collecting yourself for a few minutes.

"told you, i'm a good fuck." you told him, looking up at him with messy hair and an unapologetic smile.

"didn't doubt you," he says, mirroring your smile as he moves some pieces of hair from your forehead. maybe logan could see you being a permanent person in his life.

"and to think..." your words drift off as you start to move again, feeling him get hard again inside of you. "we are just getting started."

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor –”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

[wileys-russo]

Hiii! I have an idea for an Alexia x R soft fic.

So you know how Barça shared ig stories of Alexia being at the bona diada event, then she jumped into training right after (captain duties, we know).

Inspired by that, Alexia falls asleep in r’s arms right after lunch break and the team snaps a photo of them cuddled up

heavy eyelids II a.putellas

"you do know that looking at your phone or the door every five seconds does not make her appear any faster?" your eyes moved to meet frido's teasing gaze as you pulled a face and rolled your eyes.

"i wasn't! i know she is busy, and she will be here later." you huffed, tucking your phone away in your locker and bending down to lace up your shoes.

"again! you are doing it again!" frido laughed a moment later, catching your eyes once more lingering toward the changing room doors hoping your girlfriend would be walking through them everytime a new body appeared.

"no! i was..." you trailed off with a slight frown, struggling to think of a suitable answer. "looking for alexia." ingrid chimed in as you sent her a fierce scowl, crossing your arms over your chest.

"shut up." you grumbled, sick of their teasing and standing to head out to the field.

"oh amiga we do not train for another...ten minutes. do you not want to spend them staring at the door trying to make alexia appear with your magic laser eyes?" patri's arm fell over your shoulder as she gave you a cheesy grin and laughter rang out among your teammates.

"pew pew pew!" pina poked your cheek, pointing at your eyes and ducking your fist that swung at her with a wolfish smile. "like you two can talk. amor idiotas enfermos!" you muttered, a beat of silence passing before you raced out of the room with both girls hot on your heels.

"bon dia!" you managed to get out with a smile toward the iphone camera filming the walks in before pina landed on your back, sending you stumbling forward and nearly losing your footing.

you struggled to throw her off, grins painted on both your faces as her arm wrapped around your neck and eventually with a puppy dog look sent to patri she called her girlfriend over and off you.

you moved to join in for stretches, having already popped in to see the physios to have your hamstring taped up and looked at, a hard tackle yesterday giving you a little discomfort and promising your girlfriend you'd not ignore it.

your girlfriend whom you'd briefly dusted with a few light good morning kisses before she'd all but rolled out of bed and into the shower, her morning schedule much more jam packed than yours.

"ale. mi amor that is your second alarm!" you warned quietly with a smile of amusement, kissing her bare shoulder as she exhaled tiredly into the pillow her face was pressed against.

"i told you to go to bed when i did." you chuckled, the blonde having insisted she'd join you shortly but by the time she did you were dead asleep, leaving her with only a few short hours of decent rest.

"despierta guapa." you cooed, another tired exhale and you were scooting over to give her enough room to roll onto her back, hazel eyes blinking tiredly as she reached up to rub them.

a few sleepy kisses and she was pushing up and out of the bed, making a beeline for the bathroom as you watched her go, eyes lingering over the assortment of intricate inkings scattering her toned bare back.

despite the fact you could have slept another couple of hours and alexia's insistence you do so, she'd stepped out of the shower to the smell of coffee and breakfast and smiled, chuckling to herself at the thought of you ever actually listening to her.

a driver already downstairs to collect her, hair and makeup was up first which you know despite pretending to hate alexia secretly quite enjoyed, you'd prepped her breakfast and caffeine to go.

"qué haría yo sin ti?" alexia sighed, strong hands grabbing your hips and pulling your body into hers. "sleep in and starve." you teased, leaning up to press your lips against hers, mumbling about how she'd be late and wrenching yourself away.

then with one more lingeringly soft kiss, the front door was closing with a click and the apartment you shared was just a little bit quieter.

"oye, tonta!" you zoned back into reality as fingers clicked in your face, pushing away mapi's hand and resuming your stretches.

"and now she is trying to imagine alexia is here, so sad." mapi tutted with a sarcastic sigh, yelping as you reached over to pinch her calf and darting to hide behind her own girlfriend.

"she might not need to imagine." ellie piped up next, tapping your shoulder as your head whipped around to where her finger pointed, perking up and not even caring how it looked as you scrambled to your feet.

you heard the jeering and teasing behind you but paid it no mind, using all of your restraint not to sprint across the field as your girlfriend hurried into training, a polite smile and greeting flashed at the media team.

"hola." alexia smiled, and despite how well she often hid it you could see the exhaustion in her eyes as she did so, the two of you having clear boundaries around your displays of affection in professional settings.

so you settled for the brief but sincere hug the two of you shared, a subtle kiss to your shoulder and a quiet i missed you in your ear.

"qué?" alexia frowned at the amused look you were giving her, the pair of you moving back toward the group as the rest of the coaching staff filed out to the field to start training.

"muy bonita." your thumb traced her jaw, her makeup from the event earlier still clear and evident on her face. "no time to take it off." alexia grumbled and your smiled only widened, knowing that secretly your girlfriend wasn't as upset about this as she might seem.

regardless she played her part, pushing and smacking at both vicky and jana whose teasings continued throughout the session.

mocking cries of 'salve la reina' echoing about the field before your girlfriend silenced them with skill, a rainbow flick over vickys head and into the goal having her jaw dropped and the moment the whistle blew she was by alexia's side begging her to show her how.

you watched with a fond smile as the blonde dragged the younger girl in for lunch in a headlock, a kick to the back of your knees having you stumbling and then sprinting off after mapi.

"oh look there is alexia entering the room. there is alexia getting her lunch. there is alexia-" you swallowed your mouthful of food and tried not to choke as fridos hands smooshed your cheeks, forcing your head to follow your girlfriends every move.

"déjame en paz!" you huffed, yanking her hands off and shrugging her away as she moved to slide into the seat across from you with a wink.

"you are so annoying on mondays." you grunted, the blonde pulling a face and falling into conversation with the rest of the table.

"oh and look here is alexia sitting down!" she paused speaking with esme to announce, your girfriend giving her a strange look as she settled beside you, knee knocking into yours in a silent hello.

"ignore her." you grumbled, frido sending you both a happy smile and turning away again. "pareces cansado amor." your face scrunched a little in concern, hand brushing hers beneath the table.

"estoy bien." alexia murmured, lips quickly pressing against your cheek reassuringly before ingrid called her name and tugged her into conversation.

however throughout lunch you noticed her contributions became less and less, sentences turned to singular words which turned to only hums of agreement and to show she was even listening which truly you weren't sure she was.

when you'd both finished eating you hurried to grab her tray and yours, dismissing her protests as she got up and followed after you none the less.

there was still a half hour left of your break but you could see the exhaustion still clear in her eyes as you tugged on her shirt and nodded for her to follow after you.

"dónde?" the blonde frowned as she fell into step with you none the less, the chatter of the lunch room fading behind you and your hand found its way into hers.

"cariño. i thought we said-" you glanced toward her as you tugged her into the media room where everyone was due to spill into for the afternoon. "oh no! we are not here for that, putellas." you laughed, recognizing the way her eyes raked over your body.

"qué hacemos aquí?" your girlfriend asked and you didn't miss the way her other hand grazed your hip causing you to chuckle. "you are going to take a nap." you smiled, a look of disgust painted on your girlfriends face as you took a seat and patted the chair beside you.

"a nap? i am not a child!" she scoffed as you wordlessly patted the seat beside you. "vale. then just come sit with me, look at social media, rest." you shrugged, the blonde looking like she was going to continue to argue but with a quirk of your eyebrow she relented.

"gruñón." you teased, poking her cheek as her eyes rolled but her body leaned into yours none the less, her focus down on her phone. you jumped a little in shock as not a minute later it fell into your lap and you had to put a hand over your mouth to stop yourself laughing.

"idiota." you smiled, carefully adjusting your position so the taller girls head slumped to your shoulder, chest rising and falling as you resumed the doom scrolling of your own phone.

but the peace didn't last long as you heard the chatter and giggles which meant the two of you wouldn't be alone for much longer, one of your arms wedged behind alexia as she slept on, her own arms crossed and a stoic look on her face even as she rested.

something you'd teased her for endlessly and it appeared you wouldn't be the only one as the first group of girls burst into the room, silenced by the murderous glare you shot their way, giggles dying and voices hushed as they hurried up to the back of the room.

"vicky." you warned quietly as the girl hung behind her friends, phone in hand and a slight smile on her face.

"no." you shook your head as her smile grew, and you sighed as she snapped a few photos and raced off after the others. but she wasn't alone as several of the girls did the same, none quite loud enough to wake your girlfriend but all capturing the moment of her asleep half on top of you before hurrying to their seats.

but of course, there was one person who would never be one to let her rest, intentional or not.

"oye capitana, despertar sunshine!" mapi cooed bursting into the room as alexia shot up as if someone had poured cold water all over her and ingrid winced, smacking her girlfriend and shoving her into a seat.

"ow! what?" mapi grumbled as ingrid told her off quietly, shaking her head as the defender huffed and sulked in her chair. "i fell asleep? you should have woken me." alexia sighed, sending you a tired glare as she stretched her neck.

"you needed the sleep cari, it was only a little while." you promised, squeezing her knee as the older girl sighed but nodded, settling back into her chair as the lights were dimmed and pere entered, starting to set up the presentation for you all to watch.

"vicky!" you jolted again in surprise as alexia's head whipped around, phone in hand and eyes narrowing into a glare at the younger girl sat at the back of the room whose smile dropped and she paled.

"delete that story, ahora mismo. or you can run laps until you drop!"

[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

[barleyo]

Consequence.

Adoptive Dad! Enji Todoroki X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: nobody asked for this but idc :3 i wrote this as a b-day present for myself!! i luv this old abusive man so bad oh my god!!! nasty old man who tries to be good but fails so miserably :3 old man who is just MEANT to be awful and abusive and gross!! luv it!!! i wanted to do a full on incest fic w him but idk if anybody would be interested >_< just let me know!!

Tags: adoptive-incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (18-50s), p in v, purity, sexual abuse mentions, loss of virginity, allusions to physical abuse, size difference, creampie, gross nasty stuff in general

Wordcount: 1.6k

Once all of his kids had given him a final 'fuck you' and left him on his own, Enji felt the pressure of loneliness crash down on him. Being on top in the hero rankings was worthless to him when he came home to an empty house. Every second he sat alone in his house, he realized that it was simply too big for just one man. It had never been a home, only a house where a fragmented family resided. Only once his kids fled did that realization hit him. 

He needed to fill the space and quick, and more than that, he needed to start over. He wanted to redeem himself somehow. Whole new family for a whole new man. 

But dating was hard at his age, and all the decent women were taken. Only fame-chasing whores were interested in him at this point, and he couldn't blame them. What the hell else did he have to offer? No woman would want to be with a tired, emotionally constipated, divorced, middle-aged man. Nor would any want to have kids with one, especially not at his age. 

Adoption it was. Simple enough. Plenty of kids in the system. Plenty of needy little brats that could benefit from his new-found, new-wave parenting tactics that he read up on in his abundant spare time. 'Don't abuse your kids.' Who would've thought it? Crazy. 'Top ten reasons why your kids won't visit you when you're in the nursing home.' Well, shit. 

He knew he had to go older. He would be absolutely damned if he would take in a toddler, or worse, a tween. He wasn't ready to raise anyone— he needed something already broken in for the most part. 

17? Yeah, that should be fine. He could do that. Old enough to take care of itself for the most part. Another body in the house was what he needed, not another responsibility. A girl? Yeah. Girls were supposed to be easier, right? Girls are sweet and grateful, always considerate and willing to help out. Girls are gentle and tender. 

Just his luck. He got the most clingy girl the foster care system had to offer. It was, at most, a bit irritating for the first few days when you were skittish and nervous around him all the time, but he understood. The problems occurred when you started to get comfortable.

He thought he wanted an affectionate little thing, especially considering the radio silence he received from his biological children, but this was just too much. Wherever he was, you needed to be. All day, all night. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, excluding when he was on patrol. 

Enji knew that adopted kids tended to have abandonment issues, or whatever, but did you have to be such a damn velcro child? It was cute, in a way, the first year or so of your stay with him. He kinda liked it, having some positive attention finally turned his way, but at a certain point it was just too much. 

Like when you turned 18 and decided that sleeping alone was no longer an option. Of course, he gave in. He tried to argue back, but the threat of tears from you was too much for his now mended heart. He was trying to change, damn it. He couldn't possibly not give you everything you ever asked for. 

'Oh, what's that? Sleeping in daddy's bed isn't enough? He has to spoon with you until you fall asleep? Honey, do you really think—? No, no, don't cry. Okay, okay, I'll do it.'

Or when spooning wasn't enough, and you needed to be massaged before falling asleep in Enji's arms, taking up his bed like nobody's business. 

'What's wrong, baby? Daddy's already rubbing your back, what else do you want? Touch you where? Baby— okay, since you said please.'

Every night, his thick fingers ran tight circles over your clit, strong arms holding you tight while you flailed and wriggled against him. You never seemed to get used to his touch. It was just too good. He split you open with his index and middle, curling into the spot you couldn't quite reach on your own. Every night, like clockwork. 

But, of course, you, the mouse who was given a cookie, asked for more. Fingers weren't enough. You needed more from daddy. Sleep didn't come easily enough for you after his skilled touches. You whined for him after every exchange, but he just couldn't give you what you wanted.

Daddy would do almost anything for his baby, anything you asked! Hell, if it made you happy, if it helped to ease the guilt he carried from his older four screw ups, why not? If it helped to mend the hole he created in his own heart, he'd pepper you in every kiss and suck and touch you as much as you wanted him to, but—

he really didn't think he could deflower you. 

The idea was too much, way too much. Kind of hypocritical of him. Finger banging and slurping on his adoptive daughter was well and good enough, but playing a little game of 'just the tip' was a line he didn't know if he could cross. 

It was tempting, and every time he turned you down he felt like a real douchebag, but he didn't trust himself with you. You were so small. He was anything but gentle. He had broken enough of his kids in other ways, he didn't exactly want to add to the score. 

Your cunt was swollen and drooling after your near nightly ritual with Enji. Crawl up into his bed, whine, scratch at him and beg for his sweet touch. You always got what you wanted, except for one thing.

"Why not?" you whined, gripping onto his forearm as he curled his fingers into you from his spot behind you, lazily acting as your big spoon. 

"This is enough." His teeth were gritted softly, trying to hold himself back. "You cum like this just fine."

You let your mouth hang open, shuddering silently at how he seemed to speed up and abuse your g-spot. "Not enough," you were finally able to make out, legs clenching in an attempt to force him to stop. 

Enji huffed, ignoring your whiny excuse. He hated when you locked him out like this, trying to keep your cunt from him like some type of half-assed punishment. Moving your legs back open, spread even further now, he continued fingering you with the same brutal, forceful pace. 

"You're being bratty, baby. I don't appreciate when you act like that," he said simply, looking down at your convulsing body. 

"You always say that," you said, pushing his arm as you tried to squirm away from him to pout. "You don't wanna 'cause you don't love me. Don't wanna get close t'me." 

That was his final straw. He had been holding himself back for your sake, but he could not handle the hurt tone in your voice, even if he knew you were faking just to get him to bite. 

He pulled his fingers out of your hole and pushed them into your mouth, stuffing the digits down your throat. He slipped his girthy cock out of his boxers, jamming the wide tip into your needy warmth. 

"You know that is not true," Enji said, already fucking into you without regard to how you were almost too tight. He'd fix that. Make you fit like a glove soon enough. "I spoil you enough, and you still want more?"

You moaned, sound coming out muffled from his fingers blocking your words. He pulled them out, strings of saliva coating your cheek as he brought his hand back to your clit. 

"Jus' wanna be closer to you 'nd feel you."

He scoffed, pushing down on your clit with too much force, bringing you to the edge of climax already. 

"No, you're a spoiled brat. I give you too much," he said, not meaning a damn word that came from his mouth. "Got used to getting whatever you want, huh? Selfish little pussy taking everything it can get." 

The pure euphoria you get from him being rough with you for once is unmatched. Daddy gave you what you wanted all the time, and you liked it, but he was too gentle with it. Like he was scared to mess up or make a mistake (again). You needed him to correct you, you'd wanted him to fuck some sense into you for so long.

You clenched the silky sheets on the bed, hands trembling while he pounding into you, hips cramming against yours spastically. 

God, he was ashamed. 

Not because he was fucking his daughter, hell, he came this far without problem. He just usually was much better in bed. Your gasps and shaky moans did little to appease him. Any other time, he'd be composed and sophisticated with his strokes, but he was sloppy and needy now. 

His cock kicked inside of you, twitching when he spilled his seed. He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he hadn't realized how dangerously close he had gotten. 

"Daddy, did you—?"

Your question was interrupted by his hand covering your mouth, unstable thrusts continuing to fill your senses. You couldn't care that he came in you when he made you feel this good.

While your legs shook and your pussy gushed, one thing was made very apparent to both you and Enji:

This was the first time he let himself go and fucked you, but it would definitely not be the last.

[cringefailvox]

lucifer and vox are rich4rich in an entitled royalty x exploitative billionaire way that means neither of them are particularly decent to service workers, and i just know it pisses alastor alllll the way off. they're not outright cruel but they are dismissive and view being "the help" as an inherently demeaning position that's obviously beneath them, while alastor, who knows intimately what it's like to be seen as lesser, resents the fuck out of that attitude. i actually think vox probably worked some shitty low-paying jobs during his early years in hell, but learned 0 lessons in empathy from the experience because he was always hyperfocused on moving up and onto greener pastures. on the other hand, lucifer's been a king for ten thousand years; his ass does NOT give his servants a second glance anymore, if he ever did. considering how he looks down on sinners in general, + all of his condescending little remarks about alastor being the hotel's busboy/bellhop, that implies to me that he considers those jobs to be unimportant and not respectable compared to him, royalty. these three would struggle severely to go out for dinner as a group because alastor would be seething violently the entire time watching vox and lucifer interact with the waitstaff

[idontcare4urmom]

╰┈➤just a Matt Sturniolo blurb!! genre:smutty

“f-fuck! yeah..that’s it,hm” Matt’s voice trembles shakily,his tone urgent as the silk sheets rustle under him from his legs quivering around, loosing himself into the overwhelming sensations that crush through his entire body as your hips are straddled on top of his lap,your back facing him as his cock is disappeared deeply in between your folds.

you aren’t even sure on how quickly you ended up being like this to be honest,but it was all his fucking fault.that one fucking story he posted earlier on his close friends on instagram,a part of you knew that it was exclusively for you only to observe,cause Matt was very aware of the effect he usually has on you just by the right photos of him.

{he was standing in front of a full mirror,his handsome features popping out from the dim light of the room and the soft glow from the moon that reflected outside the window.his dark brown fluffy hair messy that had one of his fingers tangled around them,the veins on his other hand clearly showing as he gripped his iPhone.his mouth slightly agape with his sweatpants hanging loose down on his waist,showing a decent amount of the waistband of his boxers.the most important,the line out of his dick was visible on the photo,a very small tent formed against the tight fabric that yet was aware to you.}

so he didn’t resist but to press the upload button,already picturing your reaction once you would view it,checking out every ten seconds for any sign of a response or even a emoji from the story to his inbox by your username.well,you didn’t exactly answered to it but decided quickly instead to visit his place without thinking much about it,heart starting to beat rapidly on the thought of how the night would take turn and leading you somehow to the currently position on his bed.

Matt had an awful tight grip of your ass on both of his palms that was usual due to his obsession he always had for them,the only noises echoing around his room being the headboard creaking against the wall by the force of both your bodies moving synchronously.him being a whimpering mess underneath you while you were supporting your jumps on his length by clasping both of his thighs with your hands.you settled your own unacceptable speed,his hips thrusting upwards in a delicious rhythm to meet your movements.

you were presently oblivious by how many minutes have passed since you were already far away from reality.his eight inches of cock filling your walls up completely with your hole squeezing around him extremely solidly,almost like you never wanted this to end.your back arched when he started to hit repeatedly that sweet spot of yours,jaw clenching with teeth gritting to muffle down loud moans from escaping away past your lips.

“baby..i don’t think i can last any longer,just let me cum in you please” Matt managed to speak with his words strained,obvious arousal dripping from his voice since he is struggling to not burst without your permission first.however,you stubbornly shook your head that made him whine,enjoying the fact that you could have him at your mercy in the next seconds and wanting to savour the moment more

he didn’t wanted you to win from his own obstinate so he automatically forced you to take all of him by pushing your hips downwards roughly,making his eyes roll back.you can’t help the gasp that leaves from your mouth without realisation,trying your best to composure yourself cause the familiar building of your orgasm on your lower abdomen increased.

your breath caught in your throat when his index finger reached down and under between the two of you,rubbing your sensitive clit in fast circles that made your head dizzy at the same time he was whispering filthy praises on your earlobe. the actions almost drove you to the edge instantly “shit! you can finish” you choked out,nearly drowning yourself on the intense feeling of pleasure.

matt felt extremely relieved by just that one phrase he heard from you so he didn’t waste any time.his toes curling as his body twitched in ecstasy with followed curses groaned out of him.the next thing you knew was his warm seed spurting in you like a tidal wave,your pussy milking every drop of him as you chased your own climax.when you came down from your hard high and back to the real world,comfortable silence falls over the room but it breaks soon as Matt speaks,his voice more deep and hoarse than normal since he was still cooling down

“didn’t know a photo would made you that turned on,i will post something like that in the future again”

——————-

if you already saw this in a Chris version..just pretend you didn’t 🤗 i wrote it withMatt instead and with small differences,xoxo evelyn

[seeingivy]

meet and greet

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends older brother fic

previous part linked here

--

sukuna often comes home to you.

it’s never without warning - a text from you, begging to be freed from your roommates who apparently can’t keep their hands off of each other - and then you’re settled onto his couch, into one of his blankets, when he comes home.

sukuna would never be one to deny you. and on the third week, sukuna reasons that it’s practical. giving you a key to his apartment. one for you to keep, so you didn’t have to bend over and snag the spare from underneath his rug everyday. 

so he sets it down -  right in the middle of your book - before pressing a kiss to your cheek and letting you stew in your own feelings while he showers. and when he opens the door to the bathroom, he can hear your pounding feet right before you appear before him. 

“hey.” 

he smiles. 

“someone’s eager. can you let me put some clothes on, pretty girl?” 

you look down, at the fact that sukuna’s wrapping the towel around his bare waist, and pale. 

“no! no, sorry. i mean yes. sorry. i’ll come back.” 

sukuna relishes in the look on your face, that you’ve scrunched up your nose and forehead at how awkward you were being, as he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. he watches as your eyes slowly open, as you empathetically mouth the word sorry again, before he shrugs. 

it was a habit the two of you had fallen into, rather fast. sukuna was quick to realize that your head tended to run in ten places at once, that your mouth could barely keep up with whatever was going on in your head. and you were quick to stop - coaxed by a gentle squeeze of the shoulder - when you realized that you were going too fast and he couldn’t keep up. 

“you can stay. just promise not to look.” he mumbles, grinning to himself at the pink flush that goes down your neck as he gestures for you to follow. 

sukuna watches as you sit pretty on his bed, fists curled up in your lap, and your eyes dutifully shut as he quickly throws on a pair of clothes. he stops himself from talking too fast, taking the second to watch you, observe you like this. 

at you listening to him. so obediently. 

“are you decent?” you ask, eyes still pinched shut. 

“almost never.” 

“you know what i meant.” you deadpan. 

“yes, y/n. i’m wearing clothes.” he murmurs. 

sukuna brings his hands around your cheeks, slowly pulling you up into his embrace as he feels you slowly settle against him, your hands warm on his biceps. 

“had something you wanted to say?” he murmurs, lips warm on your forehead as you shudder. 

you focus in on his tattoo, curling down the length of his shoulder, tracing the inked skin with your fingertips. you swallow down the retort that you have, that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and therefore wasn’t fully clothed or decent, and decide to save it for another time.

and try to figure out the best way, the most appropriate way, to broach what sukuna had just given you. 

“sukuna.” 

“hm?” 

“a key to your apartment?” you whisper. 

“that’s right.” he murmurs. 

you press yourself flesh to him, arms wrapped underneath his, as you feel the warmth run to your face. it’s moments like these that you can barely even look at him, because talking and maintaining contact with his eyes simultaneously had proven to be a difficult feat. 

he made you nervous. you know that he uses it to his advantage. 

like he was right now. purposely dropping the key on you, only to fully talk when he wasn’t wearing a shirt. you knew that sukuna had to be aware. of how he made you feel. you’ knew he was the observant type. and that he was perceptive too.

it’s almost too precise. too intentional, the way he touches you. like you're glass in his hands, only touching you where you touch him first.

in almost two weeks, his lingering brushes haven’t gone past your hips or your thighs, his warm kisses stopping right at your neck. it was entirely different to the haphazard, almost callous hands that you were used to, in your granted very limited experience. 

it made your entire body twitch. though you suppose that’s the effect that sukuna just has on people. 

“you ever think we’re going a little too fast?” you ask. 

“did i ask you to move in with me?” 

“no.” 

“did i propose marriage?” 

you scoff. 

“no.” 

“put a kid in you?” 

“obviously not.” 

sukuna laughs, right before pushing you back on the bed, ignoring your yelps as he all but crawls on top of you, his necklace hovering right above your lips as he smiles down at you. 

“then how are we moving too fast?” he asks. 

“you can’t just give me a key to your apartment. what if i’m a serial killer?” 

“right. i’m going to get stabbed by a knife wrapped in a sparkly pink bow.” 

“you could! have you never watched criminal minds? people will do anything these days.” you defend. 

sukuna pauses, before he slowly dips down, lips warm on your cheek. 

“are you planning on murdering me anytime soon?” he whispers. 

“no.” 

he responds with a kiss, before latching his lips straight to your neck. 

“are you going to secretly plot to poach the apartment from me?” 

“no.” 

this time his lips linger for too long in that spot, the pressure increasing so fast that it makes you can’t even stop the yelp from coming out of your mouth even if you wanted to. 

“are you going to steal from me?” 

“maybe your shirts.” you murmur. 

“maybe my shirts.” he repeats, resembling an affirmation. like he’s giving approval.

sukuna finally releases the spot on your neck, which you’re sure will purple over by tomorrow, as he brings his left hand down into your hair. 

“you have weird fucking roommates. don’t think i haven’t noticed that you keep coming back here to study. to have some peace and quiet. just take the key and use the space. what’s mine is yours.” 

you wrap your hand around the silver chain, pulling him closer to you as you muster your best, more intense stare for him. but sukuna just thinks that you oddly resemble a kitten when you do it and swallows down his laugh. 

“promise i won’t disturb you?” 

“disturb? no. distract, however? i imagine that’s nearly impossible for you to do.” 

“hey. i would leave you alone if you asked me to.” 

“why would i ever ask you to do that?” he responds, pushing off the bed and holding his hand out to you as you both pad out of his bedroom and back out to the kitchen. 

--

on friday, sukuna sends you a message from his work email. 

Dear Y/N,  Are you free tonight?  Best,  Sukuna 

you snicker, as you open up the email chain and type your reply. 

dear king of my ass,  i knew the age gap was going to bite us in the butt. did you just send me an EMAIL? are you about to invite me to a NURSING HOME?  your friendly neighborhood spiderman,  y/n 

the response comes back extremely fast. 

dear queen of my dick,  did you learn how to write emails from a cereal box? have some decorum. and i’m only two years older than you, for your information.  my colleagues have decided to take my phone for the day in their very futile efforts at stopping me from arguing with our boss. and naturally, the group of them have decided to look through my phone and now have every intention to meet you. can you meet us for drinks at six?  the green goblin,  sukuna 

you respond back just as fast. 

dear prince of cooties,  interesting. who are these clowns? and why do they know your phone passcode when you won’t even tell me? >:(  (your response is contingent on my arrival, traitor)  member of the order of the phoenix,  y/n 

you step off the train, nervously waiting for a response, as you sprint up to your apartment to find a for a good outfit to wear. that would impress sukuna and his friends. 

the mere thought of it fills you with anxiety when you think about it. that sukuna’s friends would be domineering, as intense, if not even more than he was. and that it would be very easy for you to embarrass him. 

your royal stinkiness,  do i need to come over and shut you up? you’re yapping an awful lot. and our resident pain in the ass only noticed - and badgered me to invite you to our plans - when he saw my lock screen. i’ll meet you at yours at five thirty.  your most beloved death eater,  sukuna 

there’s a very simple solution to your problem. the only person who can help you with your outfit is your roommate, mai. 

--

sukuna never found it in himself to police what a woman wears. mainly because it never did him any good in the past. a high heel to the foot, getting yanked out of the bar by his hair, and worst of all, losing the hair cells in his ear from the screaming. 

but you can’t be serious. there’s no way he’s going to let you wear that. 

“uh, you can come in. just be quiet. mai has one of her guys over. i just need to finish my makeup.” 

and change your outfit. 

the retort dies on his tongue as follows you through your dorm, only now acutely aware of the age difference between the two of you, as the smell of sex reeks in the foyer, reminding him too vividly of when he was in college four years ago. 

you drag him straight into your room by the wrist, sitting down at your vanity, as sukuna lingers around your room - his hands on all of your little trinkets - as you brush the last of the powders on your cheeks. 

“this is perverted.” he states. 

you turn around to find your sonny angel in his hand, as you stand up and snatch it back from his hands before glaring at him. 

“don’t talk about her like that. it’s a special edition.” 

“it isn’t wearing any clothes.” 

“i could throw you out for the same reason but you don't see me doing that. put her back. "

you settle back into your vanity as he comes up behind you, smiling at you from the mirror before resting his arms right at your sides. he bends down and presses a kiss into your bare shoulder, his eyes quickly wavering down before meeting yours again. 

thank god for mai. 

“are you going to wear that?” sukuna asks, carefully picking his words. 

he watches as you turn back and look at him, eyes wide. 

“do you not like it?” you murmur. 

“do you like it, y/n?” he asks. 

you swallow hard. 

“what do you mean?” you ask. 

sukuna knows for a fact that he’s right. that in the three weeks that he’s been privy to be this close to you, what he’s gathered is correct. and he desperately hates that he has to wrestle you out of this outfit now, because there’s no way he was going to watch you twitch and shuffle in your seat the entire night. 

for reasons that are entirely lost to him, you’re not very comfortable with certain parts of your body. he can tell from the clothes you pick out, from the way you tend to shift nervously and yank your own shirts down when you feel something might be showing too much. 

he can gather as much. you’re not particularly fond of your chest. you tend to dress more modestly when it comes to the shirts you wear, always layered and hardly revealing. you’re not nervous when it comes to your legs. he's seen you sporting shorts and skirts, even going as far as letting him place his hands on your thighs. 

and he’s almost positive that there’s no way that you feel comfortable now. because your shoulders are tense and you keep pulling your top up, nervously readjusting your hair onto your shoulders to cover the most that he can. 

it’s only then that he notices it. 

“your hair.” he states. 

“what about it?” 

“fix it.” he demands. 

you turn back to look at him again, tilting your head to the side in confusion. and he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose, trying to get him to verbalize his embarrassing request or get on his nerves, but he’s intent on getting you back for it all the same. 

“the ribbon. put it on.” he responds, grating the words through his teeth. 

you feel the smile spread across your face - and immediately wipe it off when he glares at you - as you rummage through your drawer for one of your ribbons and quickly lace it in with the strands. and he gives you his approval - in the form of a kiss on the top of your head - before kneeling at your side. 

“are you trying to impress me? with the shirt?” he asks.

“yeah. but it’s not a bad thing! i….i just want to look nice for you. and your friends.” 

sukuna takes a deep breath. it seems that you were always deadset on testing his patience. 

“who put that thought into your head? and for your sake, i’ll pretend that i didn’t hear the end of that sentence.” he utters, wholly irritated. 

“about your friends-” 

sukuna leans closer to you, knocking over the tiny bottles of serums and makeup on your desk, as his breath fans onto your face.

“don’t repeat it again. you’re only supposed to dress like that for me.” 

you feel the embarrassment course through you. 

“sor-” 

“change.” he repeats, pushing off of the desk and knocking everything else off the stand. 

he finds himself in your closet, pushing your hangers on the rod before yanking out one of your dresses, as you nod and shoo him out of your room. and when you shimmy the dress on, discarding the old top onto your bed.

sukuna’s satisfied by the smile you give him, that you seem to release your breath as he all but pulls you out of your apartment by your wrists. 

--

sukuna stops you before you walk into the bar. and makes you repeat the promises he’s asked you to make. though, you really can’t understand half of them. 

“okay, repeat for me.” 

“i am under no circumstances allowed to divulge that we’ve known each other since we were kids. specifically to satoru. i’m not allowed to exchange social media with shoko. and i’m not going to interact with anyone at the other tables.” 

“good girl.” 

sukuna tucks you into his side, as he pushes open the door, and drags you to the table all the way in the back. there’s four people seated there, each clearly still in their work clothes of buttoned up shirts and blazers. 

sukuna reaches for the one closest to the edge, with white hair and blue eyes, before nearly yanking him out of the booth and instructing him to sit on the other side. 

“i was sitting there!” he pouts, wrapping his arm around the blonde at his side who recoils in response. 

“and now she’s sitting there.” sukuna states, pushing you into the middle seat of the booth.

sukuna places his hand flat on your knee before pushing down, in an effort to stop your nervous bouncing. 

“y/n. these are my coworkers, sa-” 

“friends! we’re his friends!” the white haired man states again, smacking his fist on the table. 

“coworkers. shoko, nanami, satoru, and suguru.” he clarifies. 

“it’s nice to meet you guys. my name is y/n!” 

“blink twice if you’re in danger. or if he’s holding you hostage.” shoko states, peering into your eyes. 

you laugh, pleasantly surprised and less nervous by the joking demeanor - and the fact that the four of them are actually smiling at you - as you slump down into the chair. you place your hand over sukuna’s under the table and squeeze. 

“how did you guys meet?” nanami asks. 

“we met when we were…at the grocery store.” you state. 

“meet cute!” satoru states, clapping his hands together as sukuna rolls his eyes. 

and it goes decently well. because sukuna’s friends, or coworkers, aren’t what you expected in the slightest. you find out very quickly that satoru likes to annoy sukuna like it’s his one job in life, which sukuna absolutely detests. and that suguru, whose increasingly soft smiles have been helping you all night, has been dating him for the past two years. 

“do you think we’re best friends in every universe, sukuna?” satoru asks. 

“we aren’t best friends.” 

“sukuna!” 

“i would kill you in another life. and this one too, given the chance.” 

and it all comes crashing down - the warm, gooey feeling you have from being liked by sukuna’s friends, that they remind you of your own - when someone pulls up a chair to the end of the booth, sitting on it backwards, slurring as they talk. 

“do i know you from somewhere?” 

you take in his appearance and immediately pale, realizing that you do in fact know him somewhere. and that it wasn't very pleasant. and that in the next few seconds, sukuna’s going to revert to his teenage rage when he finds out you lied about what happened at the bar a few weeks ago. 

“no! no, i don’t think so.” 

“do you think you would be able to quit being a nuisance for one night, zenin?” shoko asks, making it a point to light a cigarette right in his peripheral. 

“i swear i know you from somewhere. have we met before?” 

“i’m afraid not.” you respond. 

“i’m afraid not?” he repeats, squinting his eyes together before they go wide. 

wrong choice of words. because he catches on fast enough and responds by smacking his fist right on the table, before laughing. 

“this is our boss, naoya zenin. unfortunately, he’s always like this.” suguru murmurs, mustering a polite smile. 

“that’s what you said to me. i’m afraid not. before you bit me.” naoya clarifies. 

you pale and look over at sukuna, whose ears have perked up, as he leans over his forearm, his fists clenched on the table. 

“what did you just say?” sukuna asks. 

“this is the crazy bitch i told you about a few weeks ago. she fucking bit me when i tried to kiss her.” 

“it was an accident. you just caught me off guard!” you clarify. 

and within the blink of an eye, sukuna’s punched him straight in the nose, sending the poor guy to the ground. and you can tell he makes no move to stop when he holds him up by the collar of his shirt, as nanami and satoru stand at his sides, urging him to settle down.

you remember now from the email that sukuna had stated, rather explicitly, that it took the group of them to settle him down from his boss everyday. and now his hatred for him was certainly worse.

shoko and suguru are at your sides, hands on your shoulders, as they pinch their faces up. 

“c’mon, sukuna. not worth it.” nanami murmurs, trying to wrestle the poor guy out of his hands. 

“are you really going to do this in front of your girl?” satoru asks, eyes wide as he glances over at you. 

sukuna clears his throat, like he’s thinking, before he talks. 

“suguru.” 

he sighs at your side. 

“really, sukuna. it’s not a good look.” he responds. 

“exactly. so get her out of here.” he repeats, glaring at him, as suguru and shoko oblige start shuffling you out of the bar by your sides and taking you out into the cold of the bar. 

but the windows are clear. and the shades are pulled wide open. the fact that the two of them have escorted you out leaves little to the imagination. because sukuna swings the second your feet hit the pavement and the resounding cracks that follow could only meet one thing. 

“we’re sorry about him. he’s not always like this.” suguru states. 

“no, he is. he’s been like this since he was like thirteen.” you murmur. 

you feel your eyes widen, as suguru and shoko look over at you, confused. 

“ah. you know. he’s told me before. about how he was as a kid. real emotional guy.” 

“no he hasn’t.” shoko states. 

suguru breaks out into a smile. 

“have you known sukuna for a while? like…since you were kids?” suguru asks. 

“don’t tell satoru. he made me promise. but i’ve known him since i was four. he’s my best friend’s older brother.” 

and then shoko and suguru are barely able to contain their laughs, the latter nearly toppling onto the pavement as tears sprout out of his eyes. which is the exact sight that sukuna walks out to - seeing stars from his left eye as the skin swells up. he’s quick to stand at your side, as you reach out for his fists, eyeing the red smeared all over them. 

“not mine. most of it anyways.” 

“your eye. are you-” 

“i had to let him get one in. so i don’t get fired.” he shrugs, as he look over at suguru, who is now being pulled up by satoru. 

he glares. 

“what the fuck is so funny?” 

“y/n promised she wouldn’t let satoru find out. scouts honor.” 

you watch as sukuna’s cheeks turn pink, and as he quickly waves goodbye to everyone, before he’s dragging you down the block to the car and far away from them. 

--

“hold the ice pack there.” you scold, pushing the block back into his face as he rolls his eyes. 

you’re intent on disinfecting and wrapping both of sukuna’s knuckles, because save for what he said, there’s deep cuts along the length of both of his hands. 

“it’s fine.” he states. 

“you know. he was bleeding too. hiv can be passed through bodily fluids.” 

sukuna laughs, as you fight the urge to smile, and you carefully tie the white bandages around his wrist. his hands are calloused under yours, rough as you brush your fingers around his peeled skin and he lightly flinches. 

“relax.” you murmur. 

“you bit him?” he asks. 

you groan. 

“you’re in no position to be asking me questions right now. i’m mad at you.” 

“you’re mad at me? and what did i do to be so worthy of your wrath?” 

“i was having fun! i didn’t want to leave yet. and i didn’t realize you were still stupid enough to get into fights, sukuna.” 

“he called you a bitch. that warranted more than what i did.” 

"don't pretend that was you showing mercy, sukuna. he probably got dragged out on his feet."

"and if he didn't, i'll make sure of it on monday."

you sigh.

“now i’m never going to tell you what happened.” you state. 

sukuna rests one of his hands by your side, setting the icepack down and squeezing hard as you focus in on the bandage on the other side. 

“ice pack.” 

“don’t want it. i want to know what happened.” 

“well, i’m not going to tell you.” 

sukuna reaches his hands beneath the pleats of your dress, lifting you straight onto the counter, and pushing so close into your space that you’re lying down flat on the granite of his counter. and naturally, he’s hovering over you again, his pink hair tickling your forehead.

you find it annoying that he always talks to you like this. mostly because it sends your heart straight into your throat and you find it hard to talk. 

“you should really ice that. and do you always feel the need to be on top of me when you talk to me?” 

“only when you’re being bratty and won’t listen.” he states. 

“i wasn’t done with your hand.” 

“and i wasn’t done talking to you.” 

you pause.

“promise you won’t do anything.” 

“absolutely not.” 

“sukuna.” 

“fine.” 

“i was talking to him at the bar. he leaned into to kiss me. i didn’t want to, so i said i couldn’t. be asked why. if i liked him. i said “i’m afraid not” and then he leaned in again. fully this time. and i was so shocked that i accidentally bit his tongue before i could push him off. and then he called me an ugly bitch and walked away.” 

sukuna pushes off the counter, yanking you off of your back by your forearms before he holds his hand out to you again. and places the ice pack flat against his eye. you shoot him a grateful smile as you finish the other bandage and then press yourself flesh against him. 

“i made no promises. i’m going to punch him again on monday.” he states.

“had a feeling. you're going to get fired.” you state. 

"nope."

"he'll report you to hr."

"and i'll tell them that he tried to sexually assault my girlfriend."

you feel your cheeks burn, your heart thumping fast in your chest. at sukuna so freely giving you the label, like it was almost nothing to him.

"you're crazy."

“you’re fine with it? me beating it out of him?” 

“no. but that’s not going to stop you is it?” you ask. 

“absolutely not. he put his hands on you. I have every intent to break them.” 

always one for the dramatics.

you drag your hands down the length of his arms, before taking his hands in yours. sukuna’s never had someone look at him like this, so intently, so carefully at his injured flesh like they wanted to take the pain away away. and there’s a part of him, one that’s too proud, that won’t ask for what he wants. 

“that’s fine. it’ll be your fault when you get herpes.” you state. 

“herpes aren't passed by blood.” he responds.

“why do you know that? speaking from past experience?” 

“shut up.” 

“well, now i’m never having sex with you. you can say goodbye to that fantasy.” 

“you wound me.” 

you release his hands as you reach for your things by the door, slipping your shoes on as you shoot him a smile. and it’s your smile, so full and bright, that supersedes the pride. 

“y/n?”

“yeah?” 

“can you come here?” 

you nod, shuffling over as you tuck the purse into the crook of your arm, and look up at him. 

“you’re not going to kiss it better?” he states. 

it comes out as a demand, almost sarcastic. although he didn’t mean it that way. he silently hopes that you’re able to parse out the real meaning and that you’ll oblige his request. 

“needy.” 

you stand on your tip toes and press a kiss to the pink near his eye, before locking your hands in with his and placing a kiss softly on top of both of the bandages. 

and when sukuna leaves, he can’t wait to beat it out of naoya again on monday. just to have you tenderly wrap him back up and put him back together after. 

--

next part linked here

an: anyways. me and my ooc sukuna agains the world. and ofc, i will divulge why suguru laughed. and what the lockscreen is. let me cook guys 😞

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