#(i am assuming. i don’t know what exactly they do but i feel there’s a clear difference here)

[willsilvertongue]

appreciation for the makeup and lighting department for his dark materials bc the complexions of the dead make it seem like the lighting is blue and cold but then you get will who stands out with the rich blues of his shirt and the warm browns of his skin and it’s just.. really nice. they could’ve easily dusted the dead with a little bit of chalk (or whatever they do) and let the lighting/colour filter do the rest of the work but they took care in making will and lyra look vibrant and lively and I Know that’s the Point but if you think about will and how they kept his skin tone deep and accurate... i am pleasantly surprised

[lowkeyren]

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!! ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 

alhaitham. 

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.” “seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó…  nó quyến rũ vô cùng.” because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.” so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?” but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you. 

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.” because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 

alhaitham. 

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why? 

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.” if anything, i think highly of you. 

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.” good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin." your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo." —like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today: 

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy! 2. said enemy… complimented you? 

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?” stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.” 

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.” 

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions? 

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 

alhaitham. 

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.” if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.” "—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle. “suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?” “so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.” “you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 

To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so? 

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.” i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.” there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?" do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?" made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.” sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—" 

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy arabic — @ughscara chinese, japanese — me! ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!!

MASTERLIST.

[pucksandpower]

Crash Course Correction

Lando Norris x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: the Austrian Grand Prix left your boyfriends less than pleased with each other, so you decide to do something about it

The tension in the air is palpable as you stride into the living room, your eyes darting between Max and Lando. They’re seated on opposite ends of the couch, arms crossed, deliberately avoiding each other’s gaze.

The aftermath of their crash at the Austrian Grand Prix still lingers, a cloud of unresolved anger and frustration hanging over them.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “Alright, boys,” you announce, your voice firm but tinged with exasperation. “This ends now.”

Max’s head snaps up, his blue eyes narrowing. “What are you on about?”

Lando, unable to resist, chimes in with a snort. “Probably about how you can’t drive for shit.”

“Me?” Max’s voice rises an octave. “You’re the one who-”

“Enough!” You cut them off, hands on your hips. “I’ve had it with this childish bickering. You two are going to sit here and work this out, or so help me, you’ll both be sleeping on this couch until you do.”

The threat hangs in the air for a moment before Lando breaks the silence. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” you reply, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I love you both, but I’m not dealing with this anymore. Sort it out.”

Max leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Y/N, come on. It’s not that simple. He-”

“No excuses,” you interrupt. “Talk to each other, not to me. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” With that, you turn on your heel and march out of the room, leaving the two drivers to face each other.

For a long moment, neither speaks. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems to grow louder with each passing second.

Finally, Lando breaks. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Max grunts in agreement. “Yeah, well, welcome to life with Y/N. Stubborn as hell.”

“You’re one to talk,” Lando retorts, but there’s less heat in his words now.

Max sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Look, about the race ...”

Lando tenses. “What about it?”

“I ... I might have been a bit aggressive in that turn,” Max admits grudgingly.

Lando’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit?”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly backing off either,” Max counters, but his tone is more defensive than accusatory.

Lando opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, considering. “Fair point,” he concedes after a moment. “I guess we were both pushing pretty hard.”

The admission seems to ease some of the tension in the room. Max nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? Push to the limit.”

“Yeah,” Lando agrees, a matching smile forming. “Sometimes we just ... overstep that limit.”

There’s another pause, but this one feels less strained. Max breaks it, his voice softer now. “I am sorry, you know. For how it ended up. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

Lando’s expression softens. “I know. Me too. It’s just ... frustrating, you know? We both lost out on a podium.”

Max nods emphatically. “Tell me about it. The team was not happy.”

“Christian give you an earful?” Lando asks, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Max groans. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You?”

“Zak was ... not thrilled,” Lando admits with a grimace. “But I think Andrea was even worse.”

They share a look of mutual understanding, the shared experience of team disappointment bridging the gap between them.

“You know,” Max says slowly, “maybe we should ... I don’t know, talk more? In the paddock, I mean. Try to avoid these situations.”

Lando tilts his head, considering. “Yeah, that could help. Better communication, less ... assuming the other will back off.”

“Exactly,” Max agrees, warming to the idea. “We’re both competitive as hell, but maybe we can find a way to race hard without ... well, this.”

Lando nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I’d like that. It’s more fun when we’re both actually finishing the race.”

Max chuckles. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, the earlier tension replaced by a tentative camaraderie. They’re both quiet for a moment, processing the change.

“So,” Lando ventures, “think this counts as making up? Because I really don’t fancy sleeping on this couch. It’s not exactly built for comfort.”

Max laughs outright at that. “God, no. My back would never forgive me.” He pauses, then calls out, “Schatje? You can come back now. We’ve sorted it.”

You poke your head around the corner, eyeing them suspiciously. “Have you really? Or are you just saying that to get out of couch duty?”

Lando holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Cross my heart. We’ve had a proper talk and everything.”

You step fully into the room, your gaze moving between them. “And? What did you decide?”

Max and Lando exchange a glance before Max speaks. “We’re going to work on communicating better about what happens on the track. Try to avoid these ... incidents.”

“And off track?” You prompt, not quite satisfied.

Lando jumps in. “We’re good, love. Really. Water under the bridge and all that.”

You study them for a moment longer before your posture relaxes. “Alright, I believe you. But if I hear one more word about that crash ...”

“You won’t,” Max assures you quickly. “Promise.”

You nod, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Good. Now, who wants dinner? I’m starving.”

As you turn to head back to the kitchen, Lando calls out, “Hey, Y/N?”

You pause, looking back. “Yeah?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Just for the record, if we had to sleep on the couch ... would it have been together, or ...”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “In your dreams, Norris.”

Max snorts. “As if I’d share a couch with you anyway. You kick in your sleep.”

“Oi!” Lando protests. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfect sleeping companion.”

“Sure you are,” Max teases. “That’s why Y/N always complains about your snoring.”

You decide to intervene before they can start bickering again, albeit more playfully this time. “Alright, children. Less arguing, more helping with dinner.”

They both groan dramatically but get up to follow you into the kitchen. As you start pulling out ingredients, you can’t help but smile at the easy banter now flowing between them.

“So,” Max says, leaning against the counter, “what’s for dinner?”

You shrug. “I was thinking pasta. Simple and quick.”

Lando perks up. “Ooh, can we have garlic bread too?”

“Only if you make it,” you counter, tossing him a loaf of Italian bread.

He catches it with a grin. “Challenge accepted.”

As Lando busies himself with the garlic bread and you start on the pasta sauce, Max hovers nearby, looking slightly lost.

“Don’t just stand there,” you chide gently. “Make yourself useful. Chop some vegetables or something.”

Max grimaces. “You know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Lando laughs. “Come on, Max. Even you can’t mess up chopping vegetables. Here, I’ll show you.”

To your surprise, Max allows Lando to guide him through the process, their earlier animosity completely forgotten. You watch them with a warm feeling in your chest, grateful that your plan worked out better than you could have hoped.

As the kitchen fills with the aroma of garlic and herbs, the conversation flows easily between the three of you. Racing stories blend with personal anecdotes, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful jab.

“Remember that time in Monaco,” Lando says between giggles, “when Daniel thought it’d be a good idea to-”

“Oh God,” Max groans, but he’s smiling. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look at inflatable flamingos the same way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

They exchange a look before answering in unison, “Probably not.”

The pasta is almost done when Max suddenly says, “You know, I’m glad we sorted this out.”

Lando nods, his expression sincere. “Me too. It’s ... nice, this. Being able to just be together without the pressure.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees softly. “Sometimes I forget we’re not just rivals, you know? We’re ... partners.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighted with meaning. You hold your breath, waiting to see how Lando will respond.

A slow smile spreads across Lando’s face. “Yeah, we are. Even if you are a pain in the arse sometimes.”

Max laughs, the sound full and genuine. “Right back at you, mate.”

You can’t help but join in their laughter, relief and happiness bubbling up inside you. This is what you’d hoped for — not just a truce, but a real reconnection.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation continues to flow. You find yourself content to just listen, watching the way Max and Lando interact. There’s a new ease between them, a understanding that goes beyond their shared profession.

“You know,” you say during a lull in the conversation, “I’m proud of you both. For working this out.”

They both look slightly embarrassed at the praise, but pleased nonetheless.

“Well,” Lando says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “we couldn’t very well let you win, could we? Threatening us with the couch, honestly.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Max chuckles. “She’s got us there.”

As the evening winds down, you find yourself curled up on the couch between them, a movie playing on the TV. It’s some action flick that none of you are really paying attention to, too content in each other’s company.

“Hey,” Max says softly, his arm draped around your shoulders. “Thanks for this. For ... pushing us to talk.”

Lando hums in agreement from your other side. “Yeah, we can be right idiots sometimes. It’s good to have someone to knock some sense into us.”

You smile, warmth spreading through you. “That’s what I’m here for. Someone has to keep you two in line.”

They both laugh at that, the sound harmonizing in a way that makes your heart swell.

As the credits roll on the forgotten movie, you realize that this — this moment of peace and companionship — is exactly what you’d been hoping for.

It’s not always easy loving two Formula 1 drivers. The competition, the pressure, the constant travel ... it can all take its toll.

But moments like this? They make it all worthwhile.

You snuggle deeper into the couch, surrounded by the warmth of the two men you love. “So,” you say, unable to resist one last tease, “I guess you’ve both earned your bed privileges back, huh?”

Max and Lando exchange a look over your head before Max speaks. “Actually ... I was thinking maybe we could all just stay here for a bit longer. This is ... nice.”

Lando nods in agreement. “Yeah, no rush to move. Unless you want to, of course,” he adds quickly.

You smile, touched by their reluctance to end the moment. “Here is perfect,” you assure them.

As you settle in for another movie, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, that crash was a blessing in disguise. It forced a confrontation that needed to happen, cleared the air in a way that casual interaction never could.

And now, curled up between Max and Lando, their earlier rivalry forgotten in favor of shared laughter and warm companionship, you know that whatever challenges come next, you’ll face them together.

As a team.

As a family.

[alisonwritesimagines]

First Date ~Logan Howlett Imagine~

Summary: You go on a date with Logan.

Part One

Author’s Note: I wish I was a woman in the early 2000s and be able to marry Hugh Jackman

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: none, fluff

Do not repost this anywhere!

You took Laura shopping with you so you could: one, help her get some new clothes and necessities, and two, get yourself a new dress for your date with Logan.

“He may seem rough around the edges but he’s a good guy under all that,” Laura tells you as you two walked around a clothing store.

“I’ll take your word on that. How are you liking school? Made any friends yet?” You asked her.

“Just a couple. But school is nice. I’m learning a lot from the other teachers as well,” she tells you.

“That’s great! I’m so happy you’re adjusting well in this universe.”

"It's not too bad here," she says.

"That's good to hear."

"What time is Logan picking you up?" She asked.

"At five. So we should head back huh?" You asked.

"Yeah."

Logan remembered the first time he went on a date with his universe's you. He remembered the nervous feeling he got when picking you up and there was no difference in this time. He watched you walk out of the mansion wearing a black dress that made him take his breath away.

"Hey. Ready?" You asked.

"Yeah. You look great," Logan tells you.

"Thank you. I didn't know what we were doing so I figured this would be appropriate enough," you tell him.

"Vanessa recommended a couple places. Wade didn't help," Logan tells you.

"Of course he didn't," you giggled.

"Shall we?" Logan asked.

"We shall," you nodded.

Logan took you to a nice bar and grille that Vanessa recommended. You two sat outside at the end where you two could have some privacy.

“So what do you do at the school?” Logan asked you.

“I am an English teacher. I also help kids with their abilities if they’re having some issues with it. It helps since I’m able to cancel their power by looking at them. But it hurts my eyes sometimes,” you tell him. Your powers were the same as well as your job at least.

“Bet that sword training came in handy then?” Logan asked.

“Yeah. How did you know I did sword training though?” You asked. Logan froze for a moment.

“I just assumed. With a power like that, you must’ve gotten some training in closeup combat,” Logan tells you.

“That’s true. That’s kinda how I met Wade. We bonded over our swords.”

Throughout the night, Logan began to fall for you. Though you were a reminder of his old universe, you were a little different. And he didn't mind. But it felt guilty to him to be with you in an untruthful matter.

“I can’t do this,” Logan told you.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked with a frown.

“No. You have been great. Too great. I think I need to be honest with you about something,” Logan told me.

“If it’s about you being from another universe, Wade already explained that to me.”

“It’s not just that.”

You stared at him, letting him continue.

“I was married to you in my universe. But I let her down and got her killed.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And being with you, it’s making me feel guilty that I let you die when I could’ve been there to help you. And I don’t want you to get hurt here.”

You put your hand on Logan’s before looking at him.

“I’m so sorry about that. I know I’m not exactly her. But I hope that I can help you move on. I don’t think I’m that same girl you lost. I am someone different and someone you can have a second chance with,” you tell him.

“I know you can,” Logan smiled softly at you.

“I am curious, is there a big difference between me and other me?” You asked him.

“She did not make really good brownies like you. She did make cookies,” Logan tells you.

“Brownies are more superior,” you tell him with a straight face. Logan let out a small laugh before nodding.

“Yes they are.”

“Do you want to get dessert after this?” You asked him.

“I’d like that.”

"Then come on," you say as you held his hand before dragging him out.

---

Wade looked up as he watched Logan walk inside the apartment. It was three in the morning and Logan had a smile on his face.

"Hey you," Wade greeted.

"Hey," Logan greeted back. Logan's smile fell from the reminder that his night with you had ended and he was back with Wade's annoying presence.

"You know, your curfew was midnight," Wade teased. "I told you that you would have a fun time with Y/n."

"Fuck off."

"I take the date went well?" Wade asked him.

"Yeah. It went well," Logan said.

"It went really well," Wade tells Marry Puppins. The dog licked Wade's face before he pulled her away from him for a moment.

"I know this goes on without saying, but if you hurt her, I will fight you again," Wade tells him.

"I'm not going to hurt her. I won't let anything happen to her," Logan tells him.

"That's the spirit! Now, when's the next date?" Wade asked.

"I'm going to bed."

"Aw come on. I want us to braid each other's hair and you tell me everything," Wade tells him.

"Night," Logan said as he left the room.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could we please have a batboys (and Bruce) x reader who can break the 4th wall?

This was rubbish.

Dick

Would rest his head on your shoulder and ask. ‘Who are you talking to sweetheart?’

He genuinely wants to know considering the first thing he heard was you talking back his beautiful back and perfect thighs, only to find that you were saying all this to no one in particular.

‘Oh just the lovely people reading this.’ You tell him happily and Dick would only see the walls of your shared room.

‘And what are they saying?’ Dick would then say.

‘Oh I can’t hear them, nor can I really see them exactly but I just have this feeling that we are being watched -or read in this case- by many people, I can sense them and i want them to feel included in my love life with the most beautiful man Gotham has to offer.’ You tell him as you kiss him on the cheek, making him smile.

‘Well as long as they know that I am taken by you, then we’ll be okay.’ Dick replied as he kissed your forehead sweetly. Dick at first though you were just the type to talk to yourself like some people, but seeing as how it seemed as though you were more or less addressing someone rather then just talking to yourself, Dick then assumed that you might have an ability that allows you to look past this reality and into another one entirely that might be looking into this one.

It was a scary thought to think that he was being watched ,or read as you put it, by another reality but it was intriguing nonetheless the less that there was a possibility of multiple dimensions. So he could only imagine what you were able to experience if you were able to see beyond this reality to address people who probably saw him in a different form entirely.

If anything he’s extremely curious as to how your ability worked exactly as it was something that was clearly unheard of. Somedays you would address the audience as per usual but other times you didn’t address them at all, almost as though you knew where and when they’ll pay attention to you both: all so that you could entertain them for as long as possible without it coming across as excessive or too long winded.

He would try to act like he could see them too as to not have you feeling so alone, but would get flustered when you tell him that he was looking the wrong way.

He’ll leave the fourth wall breaking to you instead and will be nosy and ask all sorts of questions about your ability, all before saying that your powers was the most coolest he’s come across, but you knew he was only saying that because you were his beloved partner but that didn’t make what he said any less true.

Jason

Would raise a brow at first but would keep this tendency to himself out of a need to protect you from those who’d gladly send you away for such tendency.

Jason isn’t phased by much but you talking to a wall as though someone was there brought a weird feeling to his chest.

‘His thighs? Perfect. His stomach and autopsy scars? Delicious. Arms, hands and back? Gorgeous but all of you at home are already aware of that and could only imagine how plush his tits are-‘

‘Who are you talking to chipmunk?’ He’d ask, cutting you off as he expected you to be on the phone to someone, so imagine to his surprise when he saw your phone on charge and you were in fact talking to thin air.

‘Just the people thirsting after you.’ You’d reply as though it was common sense.

‘Thirsting?’ Jason tried the word, not liking how it sounded coming from his mouth. ‘What’s that?’

‘Just think of it as another word for desire, but they can’t have you because in their reality you’re a fictional character who gets the short end of the stick constantly by people who don’t know what to do with you in general.’ You shrugged as you looked over at him with a smile. ‘Also you get stereotyped as someone you’re not by people who obviously lack a capacity for reading given how short their attention span is.’ The last part was muttered under your breath before bringing the conversation back to him.

‘Enough about me how about you honey?’

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and Jason knew it wouldn’t be the last either as he would find you passionately ranting to your invisible audience about something, and while it was cute to watch you be this passionate, he also became concerned for you in case you were going through something that you didn’t want to burden him with out of a need to protect yourself.

‘You can tell me if you’re going through something you know that right?’ He’d tell you one night as he holds your face in his hands.

‘Of course I do jaybird,’ you whispered to him before watching him as he fell asleep, only to move your head elsewhere to speak to the wall. ‘Isn’t he the cutest? Truly a man unlike any other, a dying breed if you will, but I can assure you dear readers that you too will find your Jason Todd because that’s what you all deserve in life is to be loved deeply by an non-judgmental and caring man.’ You fished before joining him in your sleep.

Tim

He thinks your maladaptive daydreaming.

What else was he meant to take away from you talking to seemingly no one so passionately as you did in that moment.

He didn’t want to say that you were insane but it wasn’t everyday where a sane person would idly make conversation with thin air or a brick wall as casually as you did.

That or you were extremely lacking in sleep and were now seeing things, if that was the case then he would be able to relate to you as he had those types of days also, more often then others that’s for sure but from what Tim could tell was far from the truth as you looked bright and too well rested for that to be the answer.

And honestly? He doesn’t want to know who exactly you were talking to as not to frighting himself shitless and would act as though you talking to a crowd of no one within your shared room was completely normal in Gotham.

God forbid you start talking to this unseen audience during the night, Tim will think he’s in some sort of horror movie that he was forced to watch with the rest of his family on Halloween. Seriously who knew fourth wall breaking could come across as though you were demonically possessed?

He wants to ask who you’re talking to, he really does but if he was running low on fumes that day, really tired and wanting nothing more then sleep he would forgo all logic and just agree with what you were saying to thin air.

‘I wish I could tell you just how mean Tim can be when he’s sleep deprived, you think you know sarcasm? Wait until Tim is on about two hours of sleep and then you’ll know true sarcasm.’ You’d say.

‘Says the one who’s talking to the wall as though it had ears to listen or a mouth to respond.’ He’d replied.

‘See what Im on about? Absolutely mean when he’s sleep deprived.’ He would hear you whisper aloud but he was on the verge of falling asleep against the table to find out the true reason to your uncanny ability to break the fourth wall.

Damian

Genuinely thought something was off with how often you would look off into the distance, as though you were addressing someone he couldn’t see, like a hidden camera that lead to an unseen audience.

‘Isn’t he the cutest when he’s acting all tough,’ he’d her you say, ‘it’s like if you give a rabid chihuahua a knife but ten times worse because he can actually back up his deeply descriptive threats.’ Damian’s brow would raise at this as he watched you silently as his mind wondered who you could possibly be entertaining with such things.

Gotham has an ability to make the most strong minded person break and needles to say Damian would keep silent watch over you while you had these kinds of episodes, even when you would proudly praise his artistic skills but never to him directly, but more so to seemingly thin air with a beaming smile.

‘He’s got a future as many things and in all honestly I’m envious of how multitalented my Dami is, but at least I get to be his hype man and cheer for him no matter what, which is something I bet half of you which you could have but here I am loving your fantasy!’ You’d finish with a cackle and it left Damian smiling to himself at your pride towards him, but also still very curious as to who it was you were talking to.

‘Who are you talking to.’ He would ask you one day.

‘The audience reading this fic.’ You’d reply as though it was the most casual thing to bring up in conversation.

Damian’s brows furrowed. ‘Audience? What audience.’ He tried looking in the same direction as you, only to see nothing but his bed.

‘Oh I don’t expect you to see them but they are there,’ you tried to reassure Damian but it only came off as ominous and albeit cryptic, ‘they are always there, watching.’ You’d add and needles to say your words only made Damian go into a defensive posture at the aspect of being spectated by beings only you could seemingly engage with.

Well done you’ve made Damian somewhat paranoid as to what this audience you speak to wanted, what they wanted with you to have you keep engaging in conversation with them and what they could be planning.

‘Always watching?’ Damian asked.

‘Yep,’ you replied, ‘but not when we’re in the bathroom, that’s just really weird but other then that we are merely entertainment for them to consume on days of boredom and to grow a parasocial relationship with us to their leisure.’ You added and when you looked over at Damian, his jade eyes were wide and you winced internally, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all because now you’d knew Damian would start reaching for his sword out of instinct now.

Try and tell him it’s a joke as much as you like but Damian would now take your ability to break the fourth wall as a sign that someone was out there, watching all of you, an invisible enemy that he couldn’t kill and it pissed him off. He’ll break you free of the curse…sooner or later.

Bruce

‘That man is finer than a mother fucker and he knows it. And I know damn well all you thirsty bitches are making edits of my sexy Bruce to the song of older by Isabel LaRosa. I just know it you absolute sluts, but I can’t blame you because I would too.’ Bruce had just finished showering and the first thing he sees is you seemingly talking to a wall as though you were talking to a group of people in a whole different plan of existence.

He’s seen a lot of things in his time as Batman but someone talking to people who aren’t there? He’d assume you’re either clairvoyant or have another ability that can allow you to talk to an audience of people whom he can’t see, for whatever it was wouldn’t change Bruce’s opinion on you, powers or not.

‘My darling.’ He’d greet you as he holds you from behind. ‘May I ask why and or who you were speaking so passionately about me to?’ He adds.

‘The people reading this fanfic.’ You’d tell him as though it was a completely normal thing to admit as it was something you had been doing for as long as you could remember. Your parents thought you were talking to an invisible friend like other kids your age, but it grew concerning when you were still talking to no one in particular well into your late teens.

Bruce just raised a brow but would assume that you had some ability that you weren’t comfortable to admit to him, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk to him about such a thing, especially not if you had admitted to someone in the past before and their reactions were negative.

He would just try and look deeper into this sort of thing in hopes of finding any pre-existing information about anyone showing similar signs as you and reading it deeply and intensively so that he could be well informed to know what you were going through. Bruce loves to be educated on things that he didn’t understand with the hopes of understanding it on a deeper level, so if he did managed to find something that perfectly describes what you were doing, then he’ll be reading it until he could recite it in his sleep.

He didn’t want you to feel as though you should be ashamed of your unique ability and would often take notes and things that he’d noticed you do as you addressed the invisible audiences in vivid detail. Your ability to see into another reality or anything similar to talk to people was a powerful thing to have and Bruce was fascinated by such a unique power, a power that could prove that alternate realities exist.

But Bruce would find himself intrigued with how you talked to this invisible audiences, almost as though you were greeting an old friend, whether or not this was your way to cope with the fact that you could sense an audience watching your every move and leave no privacy to be had for yourself. It was unfortunately something Bruce wasn’t quite sure but until your ability was causing you harm he would contour to watch and observe while acting as though he was unaware/ unfazed of your tendency to talking to seemingly no one.

Basically reader: you should know this too

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Pets

Billy loves animals. He can’t help it. Even as Marvel, he’ll go up to dog owners and ask to pet their dogs. There are more than a couple videos of him dwarfing these little puppies and petting them.

Marvel: *turned into Shazham and chilling on the floor with Wonder-pig*

Wonder-pig: *yapping in pet language*

Marvel: *responding back in pet language*

Flash: *watching them* “Huh… When did Cap get a pig?”

GL: “I don’t know. I didn’t even know the guy owned pets- is it standing up?”

Flash and GL: *watches in slight horrification and fascination as what they though was a normal pig, stands on two legs like a human being and picks Wonder-pig up so they can go to the kitchen to eat*

By the way, Wonder-pig also refers to Billy as her brother because she thinks he’s Shazham. So, not only is he a pig, but he has Greek powers and her owner has Greek powers so they’re related which makes her and him related. If that makes sense.

Later…

Flash: “Dude, what is wrong with your pig?”

Marvel: “My pig? What’re you talking about?”

Flash: “Your pig! It looked like a pig version of you. Is it not yours…?”

Marvel: “Oooooh you mean Shazham.” *looks for a second to make sure he doesn’t get struck by lightning because it sounds like Shazam*

Flash: *also looks up, confused as to what he’s looking at* “Yeah? I think.”

Marvel: “So what’s wrong with my pig?” *looks back at him*

Flash: “Me and John saw it stand up with full human autonomy. Do you know how horrifying that is?”

Marvel: “Really? My bad. Well, he means no harm.” *pats Flash on the shoulder* “It’s best not to dwell on it.”

Flash: “I really think we should-”

Marvel: *continuing to pat Flash’s shoulder* “I’m really glad we can move on from this.”

Flash: “Yeah, I don’t want to move on from this-”

Marvel: “It wa nice talking to you!”

or

Robin!Damian: “Translate Bat-hound.” *points to the dog*

Marvel: “Sorry, what?”

Robin!Damian: “You can speak all languages, yes? That includes animals, I assume?”

Marvel: “Yes?”

Robin!Damian: “So translate Bat-hound.”

Marvel: “Well, what am I translating exactly?”

Robin!Damian: “Start up a conversation.”

Marvel: *stares at the dog*

Bat-hound: *in pet language* “You smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around.” (This just sounds like barks to Damian.)

Robin!Damian: “What did he say?”

Marvel: “He said I smell like the pig Wonder-pig was hanging around. I think he’s talking about Shazham.” *looks up to the ceiling for a moment just in case he gets shazamed*

Robin!Damian: “Does that mean you have a pig?”

Marvel: “Uh… yeah.” *doesn’t know how to feel about calling himself a pet*

Robin!Damian: “Tt. Neither Batman nor Agent A will let me have a pig.”

Marvel: “Do you want to meet my pig?”

Robin!Damian: “…yes.”

Marvel: “I’ll bring him over one day then! You’ll be the first who knows and gets to talk to him.”

If pretending to be a pig would make a kid happy, Billy would do it. In the end, Damian seemed happy when he came as Shazham.

Robin!Damian: “You can understand me?”

Marvel: *in Shazham form, nods head*

Robin!Damian: *little kid wonder* “Amazing. I’ll have to ask your owner to bring you around more. The Captain mentioned how Bat-hound said you hung around Wonder-pig. I wonder if you and him can both become friends.”

or

Flash: “What’s he doing?”

Marvel: *sitting on the ground and being barked at, oinked at, turtled at, fish bubbled at, and so on*

Robin!Damian: *appears out of nowhere* “He’s communicating with them.”

Flash: *gets the shit scared out of him, lets out a little yell, and ends up clenching his heart* “Why hasn’t Batman kept you on a leash? You can’t keep doing that to people. You’re going to give someone a heart attack one day!”

Robin!Damian: *mini bat-glares him for the leash comment and starts pulling out one of his swords*

[unriding]

CAN’T WE JUST PRETEND? hayato suo x f!reader ﾉ nsfw ﾉ kinktober day 25 — camgirl + streaming ﾉ 3520 words

you always do what the highest tipper says, but looks like that’s backfired tonight. “bring someone to fuck you raw on your next stream” they said, but oh. you don’t have a boyfriend, do you? so the next best option would be to swallow your pride and ask one of your friends to play the part.

CONTAINS ﾉ explicit smut, camgirl!reader, creampie, dry humping, little plot - smut heavy, multiple orgasms, pet names, streaming + audience, traces of possessiveness (suo), virginity loss (reader), this is a minimally edited old draft but i hope you like it regardless! ^ ^

“You want me to join one of your streams?” Suo tilts his head to the side, gently placing his cup back onto your desk. He swivels around in your chair to face you, and you suddenly feel like a guest in your own room.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” your head hangs low. “So.. you would be the closest person to that, I think.”

“Am I?” His lips tug into a small smile, and it dawns on you that you’ve just outed your inexperience to him. Your face burns a little more, this time spreading to the tips of your ears, but you fight it off with a quick shake of your head. “Well, you don’t necessarily need to have a boyfriend, right? The comment you showed me said it could be anyone.”

You think he might just be poking fun at you the way he always does. Egging you on to make you admit something embarrassing again.

It was already over for you years ago when he learned that you get flustered easily- and he’s never given you a break since. Always leaning in a bit too close for comfort and saying things he knows will come off the wrong way. Flirtatious, even. “I-I know,” you stammer. “But I want it to be someone I’m close to.”

“Why’s that? You’re such a pretty girl. You wouldn’t have trouble finding someone, right?”

He probably just wants to hear you say that you picked him because you like him, you tell yourself, but it’s not like you have any other options.

You fiddle with the hem of your skirt. “Well, I’ve never done it before. So I don’t wanna… lose it.. to a stranger. Literally anyone else would be fine, I think.”

Suo’s eyes widen at your confession. “Oh. You’ve never done it before?”

“No.” You tear your gaze to the side. “I stream stuff, but I’ve never done it with an actual person. Only… by myself. With toys… it shouldn't matter!” You wave your hands back and forth. “I’m good at pretending. They won’t be able to tell it’s my first time, so don’t worry, okay?”

He agrees with a cheerful nod. As if he would ever even dream of passing up a chance like this.

Suo feels awfully at peace with himself when he follows you to your room. It’s exactly the way it looks in your streams, and reality starts to dawn on him. You trust him enough to be your first, and to be your first visitor on your streams? How sweet of you.

Suo’s always been around you, just a breath’s away, but never this close. No one approaches you when you're with him because everyone has already started to assume that the two of you have been dating since long ago, and he was content with that. Being close to you was good enough. For now.

A part of him wonders if this thinking will change after today.

He helps you move some of your things out of frame. You’ve fallen awfully quiet, and he chalks it up to your nervousness kicking in. You’ve always had a habit of getting quiet whenever you were trying to focus and needed to push down your nerves.

“I think we’re ready.”

“Ah.” Suo smiles when he takes a seat beside you.“You’re sure you’re ready?”

You visibly tense when his thigh brushes against your own. Cute.

“M..mhm. It’s gonna start recording in….” you lean over your bed to fiddle with your camera, and his eyes linger over the curve of your back, “ten seconds.”

Nine.

Eight.

His hand comes to pat your head, and you shoot him a glare. He chuckles. Seven.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You look cute all nervous.”

Six.

“I am not nervous,” you huff, and his smile doesn’t falter. “And don’t tease me when it starts!”

Five.

“We’re supposed to not know each other,” you add, “so you’re supposed to act like you’re just one of my followers.”

Four. Oh, if only you knew. Who do you think sent you this request in the first place?

Three. Two.

He settles a little more comfortably on your bed, and you smile brightly.

One.

“Ah! Hello everyone.” Suo turns to you, and heat rushes to your cheeks almost immediately after. He’s taking the initiative? “The video is working fine, I assume? I’ll be her…” his fingers hook underneath your chin, and you stiffen. “..First guest tonight.”

“Yea…m..mhm!” A sharp inhale through your nose helps you regain your focus. Bubbly and cute- that was how you wanted to be perceived while on stream. “I brought him on to join us today!” You wrap your arms around him, moving behind him to rest your chin on his shoulder. “This was what you all wanted to see, right?”

The comments start flooding in almost immediately. Some seem to like Suo, and some don’t. Others are wishing it was them instead- but that’s to be expected. Suo reads them all with a kind smile, and a part of you is glad that it’s him who was here with you tonight. He seems to be a natural. “Let’s give everybody what they want and make good use of their time. Doesn’t that sound good?”

The hesitant nod you give him is a little out of character for you, but you’re sure no one would be able to notice your sudden shyness. You make a mental note to try and do a better job at hiding your nerves going forward, though it’s a bit challenging when Suo smiles at you like he knows what you’re thinking. His gaze is strong.

It makes you feel shy. Like he’s uncovered some secret of yours that you didn’t even know you had.

Just ignore it. Ignore the hands that guide your hips when you slowly climb onto his lap, making sure your audience gets a good view of your ass when you do. Suo angles himself a bit, runs his hands up and down your sides and it’s pathetic how hard you shiver from such a light touch. “H-hey,” your voice drops to a low whisper, “quit making me all blushy..”

“Am I?” The way he innocently cocks his head to the side is infuriating. “I haven’t done anything, princess. You’re welcome to use me how you wish so you can please your audience.”

“I-I know.”

You hover above him for a moment, and just how pretty your best friend is finally starts to sink in. His hair looks soft. His lips look soft too. Another curious tilt of his head snaps you out of your daze, and you close the distance the next second– lips meeting his own in a sensual kiss. He’s angled you in such a way that your cam doesn’t quite catch the kiss itself. It’s focused on the back of your body, so he takes advantage of that- moves his lips against yours softly and slowly.

He wants to take his time with you. Make the most of this. Your viewers can wait. He would give them what they want later.

All they care about is seeing you get fucked dumb, right? He will.

He’ll take his time ruining you thoroughly– just has to admire every bit of you first. It’s your first time after all.

“You’re so cute,” he smiles between kisses, his exhale trailing into a soft laughter when you visibly tense at the compliment. “Oh? Getting nervous on your own stream? That’s not like you.”

You can only muster a shaky noise of protest. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring him on camera after all.

His eyes shift behind you, glancing at the comments, and he suddenly perks up at one in specific. “Oh dear, you already have a request, dove. They want to see you spread in front of them.”

Of all the reactions he had expected from you, the last thing he would have expected is for you to pout at him pulling away. “T-the kiss…” your voice trails off into a huff, and the amused laugh that leaves his lips surprises him too. Oh, how cute. “All you had to do was ask, my dear. Come back here.”

You practically melt into his touch. He kisses you a little more intensely this time. Kisses you with the intention of claiming you as his. You’re moaning into it, and the jitters in your stomach fills you with so much want.

You need him so bad- why does kissing him feel so good?

You’ve never looked at him in this way. Were you always hiding this somewhere in your heart? It feels so natural, feels so good that you’re certain no toy could possibly replicate how good Suo is making you feel with just a kiss. You shut your eyes a little harder when you feel him run his fingers and down your sides again, heartbeat pounding against your chest and you swear it’s making you feel dizzy.

He’s exploring your body. That’s what he’s doing, right? Why does it feel like he already knows your body so well?

His fingers brush over all your sensitive spots. It sends shivers shooting down your spine, and he seems to already know this by the way he smiles against your lips.

You’re on your back before you even realize it. Oh- that’s right. He’s good with his hands from what you’ve heard. He has that unique fighting style… though you’ve never seen it yourself.

Suo’s hands rest on either side of your head, and he looks down at you with that all too knowing smile that heats your face up all over again.

“Spread.”

Your lips tremble from the searing warmth that spreads to your ears. Has.. has he always been like this? You give him a shaky nod- force yourself to stay focused. His gaze feels as if it’s been intensifying with each passing second and it’s flustering you. Suo’s eyes are locked on your body when you shyly spread your thighs apart, leaving your cunt fully exposed for him and your audience to see. “Mmm. Good. And how do you all feel about this?”

He turns to the camera. He’s talking to them- wants their confirmation that you did good. You look at them too, not realizing the shy expression you’re giving them until someone points it out.

User156: she looks soaked

User32: Hurry and touch her

User98: Try and make her wetter

User112: She looks cute today. Like she’s nervous?

“Hmmm..” his eyes scan over the comments. “I can do that. Watch her carefully, okay?”

He moves back on top of you, lowering himself onto his elbows to hover just above you. “Your viewers want to see you get all needy for me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you tense. “So let’s get you nice and soaked for them, okay?”

He lets his lower body rest on yours, and that’s when you feel it press against you. “Ahh.. you feel it?” He whispers into your ear, and your mouth falls open in a shaky moan. “See what you do to me? It’s driving me a little crazy.”

He smiles at the way your lips press into a shaky line. You really didn’t know? Did you not expect him to get hard from kissing you?

He presses into you a little harder, smiling when you gasp. He feels big, doesn’t he? The comments start flooding in as soon as he starts moving his hips against yours, the friction only making you dizzier and needier for him to finally fill you up.

“That feels…. ah… feels….” your arms come to wrap around his back, pulling him a little closer to you. The way his breath fans against your neck only makes you melt into him more. His breath makes you shiver– and oh, he smells so good. His hair is soft when your fingers rake through it. You feel him smile into your neck this time, and it sends a wave of pleasure straight to your cunt.

You want him so bad that it’s pathetic.

He knows how to perfectly grind against you to hit your clit with each roll of his hips. It’s just enough pressure to have your mouth falling open in a moan, but not enough to where you’re jerking. Your reactions are fully under his control- your viewers feel the same too.

User990: Her eyes are rolling back from that

USer4456: Gotta see her take him inside soon.

User12: fuck her dumb already

“Feeling good? I can see that you are… you’re so cute.” He wonders if it would be too mean to mention that you’re pulling him closer to you by wrapping your legs around his waist, but ultimately decides against it. “Want more kisses?”

“Yes!”

That was fast.

He gives you one peck before he’s tilting your head to the side, planting sloppy kisses along your jaw and behind your ear. You’re latched onto him like a koala now, gasping into his chest each time he brushes against your clit. The friction is numbing, and it feels so good that you can’t tell if you’re cumming.

It all feels equally good– pleasure blurring together and it’s almost scary how desperate you’re feeling.

“You’re making quite the mess..” Suo laughs, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You didn’t feel it running down your thighs? It’s everywhere.” Your eyes widen, because you really didn’t feel it. “Too busy thinking about my cock? I’ll put it inside you if the viewers ask me too.”

The viewers. That’s right.

“Please…” the change in your volume makes it clear that you’re speaking to your audience, “please let him fuck me. I need it so bad… I…”

He only smiles at you.

User46: Do it already

User39: She’s gonna cry at this rate

User125: He’s pretty mean, isnt he?

User80: He’s having fun with it, clearly. I like her like this though

You hate how visibly happy you get after reading the first comment. He’ll finally give it to you now that they’ve asked, won’t he? “Hey..” you gesture towards Suo when he grinds against your clit once more, “they said…”

“I know.”

A strong hand comes to keep your hips planted on the mattress when you instinctively push back against him. “There’s no rush,” he smiles, “I just needed to make sure you were ready.”

A light chuckle leaves his lips when he catches your brows furrowing. He’d have to teach you patience another time maybe. If you’ll let him, that is.

“I’m ready,” you latch onto him again, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Are you sure?”

Teasing. That jerk.

“I am. I’m—”

You’re silenced by the gentle way his hand comes to cradle the back of your head against his chest before he finally pushes in. It feels good- how does it feel better than your toys? You’ve never felt like this– it’s numbing. It feels so good that you’re not sure you can handle more. “W-whoa… ah— S-suo-”

“Relax.” His voice makes your walls flutter, and you seem to finally understand just how badly your body has been craving Suo. “Relax and let me inside, okay? I know your body.” Your body heats up, and yourself turn to mush. “I know your limits. Trust me and ease up, okay?”

You try to listen. He pushes the rest of his length inside in one swift movement, and your head falls back in a silent scream– legs trembling and even Suo’s mouth falls open in a subtle gasp. Fuck- you realize you’re cumming, and you’re cumming hard.

User99: Did she just cum?

User106: she came from him bottoming out.. No way

User54: If it was me, she would have cum just from the tip.

The grip you have around Suo’s back is painful to say the least. You’re still fluttering around his length, chest rising up and down in loud gasps. “Now… are you still feeling okay?” His body covers your own entirely when he lays you on your back, resting on both elbows that cage your head on either side. It makes you feel safe, even with an orgasm that was so intense you almost feel scared. You briefly wonder how he’ll make you feel when he finally moves.

“M-mhm… I’m o-okay,” your face feels hot, and the stutter in your own voice betrays you.

“Looks like you’re feeling really good.” He catches on immediately. “Then, I’ll start moving….”

Already? Wait. You’re still sensitive—

User2663: oh wow

User919: this is more like it

User152: Finally at the good part

“Ahh… you’re squeezing really hard, aren’t you? Ease up for me.”

He feels so good that you can barely hear him. Even if you try to ease up— you’re not sure if you can. Not with how good he’s stretching you out. But you try anyway, try and be good for him so he’ll give you kisses all over your face again, and he seems to be content with your efforts. “There you go. Just like that. Relax and trust me.”

You’ve never felt this way towards your best friend. It feels good. Everything about him feels good. Each roll of his hips fills you perfectly— hits against a spot inside you that sends pleasure coursing through your body.

He’s everywhere. Kissing your neck, whispering in your ear— his hands run up and down your sides and you’re so hot you think you might actually be melting. Your second high approaches you faster than ever before, and he smiles against your skin.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell. Don’t hide it from me. Let it out. Show me how good you feel.”

You’re getting close. So close. So close that you could already feel it– feel the way your mind blanks and your body tenses. Suo’s all over you- and you can feel each drag of his cock, each kiss he plants on your neck, you can feel the way his lips move when he laughs against your neck–

Your eyes shoot open when it finally hits you like a wave, vision dotting white. You let out a piercing shriek when hot flashes wash over you all at once, walls spasming around his cock and he only seems to fuck you better when he picks up on it. “Oh? Cumming again? What a good girl you are,” his voice carries a hint of breathlessness in it from how tightly you’re squeezing him. “It’s an intense one, isn’t it? Your eyes never roll back like this.”

Even when you feel like you’re about to pass out with pleasure, it clicks in your head. “E-eh? What do you mean..? A-ah…. feels good.. feels..” your head falls back against the pillow, body rocking up and down each time he pushes against you.

“Hm? Nothing you need to worry about, dove,” you feel him follow you, lean down and his teeth brush over your neck. You stifle a moan. “So, my pretty girl…”

“Inside..” he raises his voice to address the viewers, “or somewhere else?”

You choke out a moan when he abruptly grabs your tits, giving them one squeeze. Then two. Then a third one, a little gentler than the first two. “Maybe here?”

“Or…” he takes a fistful of your ass in his hands next, chuckling when you gasp. “Here?”

It sounds like he’s addressing the viewers, but he’s not looking at their responses- eyes on you only. “S-Suo…” your voice is barely audible at this point, body too fucked out and tired to try moving, so you just lay there and take everything he has to offer. “Inside.. please..”

“Oh. Inside? What a good girl,” he’s whispering so low that you’re certain they can’t hear him.

“You knew I was talking to you. Very well,” he sets a rougher pace against you, and you can only cling onto him for dear life. “Then I’ll dump it all inside you.”

“You’ll take all of it, won’t you? You’re such a good girl for me.”

“Mhm– yes, yes, I will! Please give it to me…”

It’s cute how needy you are even in your current state. It only takes a couple more thrusts before his face contorts, only for a second before he regains his composure, and he pushes deep inside, cock shooting ropes of cum against your cervix as you let out a whine.

He pumps you full of cum, fills you to the brim and a part of him is content that he’s claimed you for all of your viewers to watch with jealousy. He’s the only one who’s done this with you.

And he’s intent on keeping it that way.

User278: show us the creampie!!

User9293: we want to see

He gives them a warm smile before abruptly shutting off the stream. Enough of that. He was starting to get tired of their comments anyway. As if he’d be willing to show them such an intimate sight.

“So,” he turns back to you again, expression softening ever so slightly when his eyes land on you again. “Are you going to show me your real expressions now?”

lace dividers from @adornedwithlight

[transformers-spike]

After the autobots eating puss hc I AM BEGGING for the Decepticons counterpart. Please please please pleaseeeeee I need my evil boys and girls eating pussy and eating it GOOD

Will be doing the cons I've seen until now in the show. So sorry Shockwave, you gotta wait this out.

Dreadwing is, to put it simply, horrible at eating out. Please don’t hold it against him, he wasn’t exactly out there back on Cybertron, and things got even worse when he was cooped up in his spaceship hunting down Autobots and Wreckers. Can he even remember when he last ate valve? Probably, Cybertronians have better memories than humans, but there’s no way he doesn’t cringe inside recalling the event. He has no idea what he’s doing, he’s the furthest thing from a Casanova, the antithesis of a sex god. Show him some mercy and give him instructions, he’ll listen to them as best he can, you just wish he would go harder and stop holding back like you’re made of glass. To be fair, by Cybertronian standards you’re extremely fragile, but… you trust him enough not to kill you with his glossa. It’s all awkward licks without your input, staring down at your pussy like it’s a bomb he has to defuse, and it’s not very sexy when he’s analyzing your genitals instead of eating you out. He can treat you like a gentlebot as much as he wants, protectively cupping you in his servo while on his knees, bringing your little body to his intake and ex-venting against it, leaving shivers down your spine. But the second he gets to work it feels like you bought a vibrator on Temu and received a bootleg PS5 controller. Either you beat the circumstances and cum against his face, or you make no progress in the span of hours. Cut the guy some slack, he’s trying his best to please.

Skyquake has the opposite problem. No, sadly not in the sense that he can tongue fuck you until you see Primus and get a drawn out “Nice” from their God/Creator/Dad. Bad cunnilingus runs in the family. The issue is, he’s too rough. If it’s not the general glossa to clit action, it’s the way he’s holding you in his servos, digits wrapped too tightly around your itty bitty body, enough to make you wince. He will adjust his grip if asked, but don’t expect him to remember during the entire act. You offer a prayer to the fallen Cybertronians who had their anterior nods bitten off by a walking jet with no chill. Squirm too much and he’ll assume he’s doing a good job, beg him to stop and he’ll take it as encouragement to keep overstimulating you. Except it’s not overstimulation – oh no. He’s turning your pussy numb faster than you can say “I wish it was your brother”. He’s well-meaning, just too intense for your own good. You have to treat him like a rescue, lure him in with treats and train him to stop biting you at random intervals. If you manage, he’ll lower his aggression, if only a little bit, and he’ll try being more mindful of your reaction, shedding his one track mind for a night or two. There are complicated cases, then there’s Starscream who, like the drama queen he is, has to be number one in avoiding your genitals like the plague until he feels safe enough to give them a try. Ironic since he can shishkebab you with those giant claws, but dude needs to trust you enough if he’s going to stick his glossa between your folds. Worst thing is; he’s good. Not just good, but fantastic at eating out. Who fucking knows how many Cybertronians had their valves ruined at his servos, but you have to earn your keep, make it to the top of his most trusted list and reap your reward. He enjoys the act, leaning all casually against a wall with you in his servos, keeping your thighs apart with two sharp as steel digits; applying languid licks to your pussy until you’re shaking in his gentle grip. Buck into him, he encourages it, it feeds into his ego, and by Primus the more praise you slather onto your words the better he does. Give him any kind of appreciation and he’s clinging onto it like the holy grail. He gets off on pushing you to your limits, having you beg for more as he assures you in a silky voice that you will get your dues soon. Absolute 10/10, do recommend.

Soundwave does not possess a proper “mouth” by human standards, doubtful he even had one when he was forged. But he has a sort of… throat intake for lack of a better word which he uses to refuel. Fear not fellow robot-fuckers! He makes up for what he lacks in other ways, mainly making proper use of his tentacle-like cables, each possessing a number of thin wires. Under usual circumstances, he uses them to connect to machinery or, in case he needs an extra oomf during a brawl, lights his opponent the fuck up with one billion volts of pure ass-kicking electricity. Now, don’t worry, Soundwave isn’t planning on turning your pussy into a death row inmate. He’s got enough control over his own frame to avoid this worst case scenario, and he’s certainly not clumsy enough to accidentally fry your pussy like a thanksgiving turkey. Those wires feel way too good inside of you, dragging across your clit with ease and squirming between your folds like miniature tentacles. The whole ordeal is akin to a consensual hentai experience with no need to yamete kudasai him; he can gauge your reaction on his own. After all, as the Intelligence Officer, deciphering body language is a must.

If you're letting Airachnid eat you out, you have no survival instincts. I'm not saying you're an idiot, but you're widely overestimating her “kindness”. Let's all take a moment of silence for the fallen valves of innocent Cybertronians. If and only if she has the barest sliver of empathy, she's going to torture your pussy until you're a crying mess caught in her web, without turning you into her newest trophy once the deed is done. At least not a dead trophy, because once she gets her servos on your squishy little human body, you belong to her, a hypothetical deal with spider Satan in exchange for the best head of your life. She's cruel in every sense of the word, but her talent at pushing you to the brink of insanity leaves you willing to risk everything, including your genitals, in this one sided power dynamic. Bound in her web, she delights in ghosting her digits over your throat, pushing down just enough to remind you of your place in this bargain. She can end your precious organic life whenever she pleases, mixing fear with pleasure as she presses her lips to your pussy.

Breakdown is a special case, always has been. Among the vast majority of Decepticons, he doesn't aim to make you beg, nor to destroy your sense of self with his glossa. He's just… a guy, completely normal next to the others, and this, ironically enough, makes him stand out. He's good at what he does, not mind-blowing by any means, just average. He has practiced enough with valves and made his partners overload plenty of times. A pussy is small, sure, but he's had minicons before, you're in safe servos here; and he’s not rusty at it either, he's one of the very few Cybertronians on Earth who frags on the regular (in no small thanks to Knock Out). Contrary to what his status indicates, he's more than just the “smash your opponents into scrap” soldier. It feels nice to lower his inner walls around someone other than his partner. There’s a major difference between the self-assured intimidation he wants to exude and the softness he craves. As such, shows exceptional gentleness handling you, cupping you in his huge servos or, if you're a daredevil, holding your hips with two massive digits as you grind your pussy against his intake. 

“Cute,” he thinks as you hump his face like an overly territorial parakeet. You may be a little shit, but you’re his little shit that he pampers and pleasures until you mellow out and relax against his chassis.

Knock Out fucks. End of discussion. He FUCKS. He has fragged on Cybertron, he's fragging on the Nemesis, you cannot stop him. Am I exaggerating? Possibly, but Knock Out is a young Cybertronian with the libido of an unneutered bull, so of course he can eat pussy. Issue is, he's smug about it, teasing you with the tip of his glossa until you beg him to put in some actual effort. He draws out your pleading until you have tears in your eyes, then he grants you the orgasm you've been dying for. Have fun being handled like a particularly juice push pop candy, you must sacrifice your dignity for robot cunnilingus. Knock Out may want you to assume he's a natural at human pussy, but the truth is; he's been googling the topic nonstop like a horny 14 year old on his dad's computer. He actively wants you to believe it’s an effortless task, you have no idea how much time and effort he puts into researching the topic, all for your admiration. Now please, give it to him, especially after all this hard work. Just don’t mention how you glimpsed his internet history.

Calling Megatron intimidating would be an understatement. Sharp denta don’t mesh well with pussy, nor does an ex-gladiator current warlord with your squishy body. But he “begs” to differ. Head from this bitch is the equivalent of sticking your entire hand in the jaws of a rabid rottweiler; you can do nothing but pray he doesn’t bite down. You’re the dumb little fleshling who found itself in his grasp, and he’s not letting go anytime soon. Human pussy is infinitely more fragile than Cybertronian valve, and he makes sure to remind you by skimming his jagged denta over your thighs. You’re caged in his servo, arms squeezed at your sides as you let the tyrant savor you to the last drop, leering down at you with half-lidded optics. He looks like he’s about to bite a chunk out of your private bits, and the fear makes you taste all the sweeter. Unscrupulous as he is, he has no shame stroking his spike during the act, growling between your legs promises of what’s to come. If you’ve survived this long, Megatron values you to a self-indulgent degree. Keep back and let his glossa drag you to the highest highs and the lowest lows, it’s not like you can do anything between those claws. He treats you as he pleases, but what pleases him most is making you cry out and twist in his grasp from overstimulation alone. Humans are so terribly sensitive.

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private session part2 is needed!! We all know Barry can be a dick head and he actually considers adding the having sex with a stripper option to customers when y/n finds out about this she obviously mad and saying no but when rafe finds outs about this he’s obviously mad and goes to Barry pissed saying wtf is this he obviously dose not want y/n to have sex with anyone else but him

Private Session - part two

Part One

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases. When he finds out Barry has been selling you to customers, he gets jealous, insisting that you must not sleep with anyone else.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe and Barry do cocaine), bondage (reader is tied up), p in v, unprotected sex, language, SLIGHT degradation, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 4.8k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. This fic is NOT proofread, it's almost FIVE AM and I have school tomorrow, well, today I guess...UGH. I just got this request and had to write this!! Also thank you all for the support on part one?!?!?! That's INSANE, I love you guys! I wanted to get this out asap for y'all. Sorry if it's actually shit, I'm so tired and also high. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

Some time has passed since your ‘private session’ with Rafe. The first time you’d come back to work after your session with Rafe, Barry had talked to you at the beginning of your shift. Apparently, after seeing how much Rafe paid you for just one hour alone with him, Barry was inspired. He had told you that the club will now be providing a new “service” to well-paying customers. Customers now have the option to have sex with the dancers for the right price. Barry knew better than to sell his girls out for cheap, so the cost is rather high. And there’s typically only two types of men that have both the means and the money for it: the rich, old sugar daddies who probably can’t even get it up on their own and the rich, horny assholes of the island, take Rafe for example. 

When Barry had told you this, you were pissed. This was not in your job description; you’re a stripper not a hooker. You wanted to yell at him and quit. The issue is that when you got this job, you had signed a contract with Barry stating that you’d have to work there for at least a year or else you’d have to pay a fee. Knowing Barry, it’s a ridiculously large fee, ensuring that no one quit before their year was up. And it’s likely that the contract he made you sign isn’t even legal. But you're not going to try and find out, knowing that even if it’s not, that doesn’t matter to Barry. He’ll make you pay. And you don’t have that kind of money, that’s why you’re in this position in the first place.

Over the next few weeks, you’ve noticed that Rafe hasn’t been coming in as much. Not while you’re working at least. The few times he has come in, he hasn’t been alone, always coming in with a few other kooks and barely paying any attention to you. Which is definitely not normal for Rafe. You just assume that since he’s had you now, he’s lost his interest. You expected that you’d be relieved when he finally stopped watching you like prey, but now you’re not exactly sure what you feel. Does he not find you attractive anymore? Did he just lose interest after finally getting what it is that he had craved for so long? God, was it just you; did he see who you really are and run in the opposite direction? You knew that whole experience with him was too good to be true.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you hear the door to the back room open. Quickly, you grab one of the dresses hanging in your locker and slip it over you; it’s what Barry told you to wear over your lingerie when you do at-home sessions with clients. You turn, watching as your boss and none other than Rafe Cameron stumble in through the door. Rafe goes quiet, his expression going dead as he lays eyes on you. 

“Lookin’ good”, Barry whistles. “Where you headed, princess?” He asks as he turns away from you, sitting on a chair. Barry leans back in his seat, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small baggie full of white powder. You’ve always ignored his side business, always pretending you don’t see any of it. Which is what you do right now. Trying your hardest to ignore the fact he’s preparing a line on the small, glass coffee table, you finish up what you’re doing and close your locker a bit harshly.

“I have a client waiting.” You snap. You walk closer to where Barry is sitting and turn your back to him. “Tie me?” You ask, holding your hair up and waiting for him to tie the complex strings of your backless dress. Though he’s currently busy doing a line of cocaine. Without hesitation, Rafe steps closer, his fingers moving to tie your dress. You don’t have to see him to know he’s the one tying your dress. Your skin just immediately remembers his touch, causing chills to run down your spine at the flashbacks of that night. Rafe notices your slight shiver and smirks as he tries to figure out how the straps of your dress go. His hands linger on the skin of your lower back for longer than they need to and your breath hitches each time his skin comes into contact with your own.

When he’s done, he sits on the couch across from Barry, facing you. You turn back to them, not bothering to thank him. To be honest, you’re a bit pissed at him for starting this whole sex with customers thing. You know he didn’t intend to, but he’s the one who gave Barry the idea. 

Barry speaks up again as he wipes the excess powder from his nose. “When will you be back, I need you out on the floor.” 

I can’t do fucking everything, you think. Although your words come out much more politely. “It’s an at-home appointment so probably an hour.” You’ve had this client before, he typically finishes pretty quick. 

You hear Rafe’s loud breathing as he snorts a line which grabs your attention, making you briefly turn your head to look at him. You watch as he leans back, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply as his high takes over. Rafe slouches in his seat, spreading his legs wide, making you quickly look away. Of course he notices how you’re reacting to him, he always notices everything about you. He crosses his arm and lets out a small sigh. 

Rafe’s tone is sharp as he cuts in. “At-home?” He questions, still trying to act as though he doesn’t care about the conversation you and Barry were having. 

Barry’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight before turning to look at Rafe. “We now offer a new service: you can fuck any of ‘em bitches now.” You make a face at Barry’s words, not liking how he described you and the other girls. Usually he’d never say that in the presence of one of his “bitches”, but Rafe and Barry always brought out the worst in each other; their behavior much worse when they’re together. 

“Wait, what?!” He asks, sitting up a bit before calming himself down. He leans back against the couch, trying to seem all nonchalant. “So, they’re hookers?” He questions more calmly as he looks over to you. You recall having to tell him you weren’t a hooker the last time you saw him. You scowl, hating that he’s trying to prove you wrong and rub it in. 

“Hookers, bitches, call ‘em whatever you want. I should thank you for giving me the idea. I mean, do you have any idea how much money this is making me.” Barry boasts. “And miss pretty princess over here is our top money maker.” Barry gestures to you as you stand there, waiting for your chance to leave. “She brings in the most customers. Ain’t that right, darlin’?” You nod. Everytime Barry gets high, he doesn’t fucking shut up. Rafe just nods his head dryly, leaning down to snort another line of the white substance from the table. 

You take this as your queue to leave and you walk out through the door and back into the main part of the club. You walk through the crowd and search for your client. Leaving Rafe with a few moments to think in silence before Barry starts yapping about all the guys you’ve been fucking. Rafe is fucking furious with this new addition to the club. He had never intended for Barry to take inspiration from his actions, he just needed you. And now anyone else who wants you, can have you. How is it that you could say that you don’t go home with guys often, and turn around and go fuck a bunch of guys for a living right after? Was he just another client to you? Rafe can’t take it anymore and decides to take action. He shoots up from his seat on the couch and storms after you. 

As you’re walking, you feel a hand grip your arm and spin you around. You’re almost chest to chest with Rafe as he speaks down to you. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I have a client.” You explain, again. 

“The fuck you mean ‘a client’?” 

“You’re not the only one who’s willing to pay just to fuck me, Rafe.” You say coldly. 

He chuckles, responding sarcastically as he stares down at you with his wide, dilated eyes. “Thought you never went home with random guys?”

“I didn’t. Until you gave Barry the idea of selling me out to strangers for a quick buck.”

Rafe sighs, his grip on your arm loosening. “That’s not what I wanted. I mean c’mon, you think I want other guys fucking you?”

The implication in his words shock you, but you try not to read too much into it. Before you get the chance to respond he lets go of your arm, letting out a deep breath and shaking his head. Without question, he pulls his wallet out from his pocket, flipping it open and looking up at you. “How much is he gonna pay?” You stare at him blankly, confused in what he’s doing. He huffs out a long breath shutting his eyes for a second before bringing one hand up to snap in your face, grabbing your attention. “The guy, your…” his hand waves around in the air, gesturing outwards as he momentarily stutters. “...Client, or whatever. How much was he going to pay you?” He speaks more slowly this time, as if you’re stupid or something. 

“Depends.” You answer. The client you’re supposed to be meeting right now didn’t have an exact time planned, but you know how much he typically has the stamina for. 

He purses his lips, shifting on his feet. “Ballpark.” He demands. His gaze darted between your eyes, constantly shifting to look at both. 

Still confused, you hesitantly respond to his question, stuttering as you speak. “$800.” Immediately, he starts to count the money in his wallet, taking out the eight-hundred and then some. Rafe hands the cash out to you, but you don’t take it right away so he tucks it into the low cut neckline of your dress.

“There, now I take priority.” He takes hold of your arm again and drags you through the club and out into the parking lot. He walks you up to his truck, which you can now recognize. Rafe pulls the passenger door open for you and walks around to his side, climbing in and starting the engine. You know to get in, shutting the door behind you and buckling your seatbelt before looking over at him. Your stomach tightens as his eyes undress you. Rafe finally turns his head away, reaching over his shoulder to grab his seatbelt. Suddenly, it’s like the image registered in his brain and he whipped his head back to you, glaring at your thighs.

You noticed him staring at you, looking down into your lap. The super short dress you were wearing has ridden up, revealing the few hickeys that are spread over your inner thighs. His eyes find the others on your neck as well and he knows he wasn’t the one to leave them. You try to keep your customers from leaving hickeys and other marks in your body, but it’s like the more you tell them not to, the more they want to. It makes Rafe almost sick to his stomach when he thinks about kissing you with those marks; marks left on your skin from other men. He can’t stand it. Suddenly his mind is filled with images of you fucking other guys, he tries to shake out the thoughts but he can’t; they’re eating away at him. The two lines of cocaine from earlier not helping the situation, it only serves to intensify his anger. 

As he drives he looks over at you. He starts to rant, his voice booming inside the small tuck cabin. “Bet they can’t make you cum four fuckin’ times in an hour, can they?”  You only slightly jump when he startles you with the increasing volume of his voice. “They can’t fuckin’ touch you like I can, huh?” He glances at the road shortly, then he turns his head back to you. “Nobody makes you feel as good as I do, yeah?” He waits for a response.

You catch the hint. “Mhm…yeah.” You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

When you get to Tanneyhill, Rafe comes to an abrupt stop in his driveway. He wastes no time before getting out of the truck and rounding the front of it to get to your side. Rafe pulls the passenger seat door open, grabbing ahold of your arm again. He tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you two. 

As soon as you hear the door shut, his lips are finding yours and attacking them. In the moment, he decides that his bedroom upstairs is too far and he takes you into the kitchen. He continues to kiss you, walking you backwards until your lower hips bump into the counter; in which he grabs your waist and lifts you up to sit on the counter. One of his hands finds its way underneath your dress and between your legs. In quick movements, he tugs your lacy thong down and off of your body. Once they hit the floor, he’s pulling your legs apart; forcing them to spread wide so that you’re exposed and accessible to him. Your pussy grows wet in anticipation of what he’s going to do to you; which is something that none of the other men have been able to make you feel.

Rafe brushes a light hand over your cunt, groaning into your mouth as he discovers how wet you are for him. Not some random guy at the club, but him. He continues to kiss you, swallowing the small moans that try and escape your lips. His hands move to his belt, working on getting it off. Once it’s off, he pulls his jeans down and steps out of them; only breaking the kiss once. The next thing to go in his boxers; he slides them down and lets them pool at his ankles.

With absolutely no warning or further preparation, Rafe slams into you. You choke out a moan, tilting your head back. Rafe starts to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear just so that your cunt can squeeze around him even tighter as he jackhammers into you. “Fuuck…so tight.” He groans. “Did anyone else fuck you like this, hm? Did anyone else’s cock stretch you out like this?” He growls into your ear. His hand snakes around to the back of your head, gathering all your hair and tugging your head back so that you were looking at him. “That was a fucking question. Fucking answer.” He demands.

“I…”, you cry out as his cock repeatedly hits the extra sensitive spot deep inside you. A spot that nobody else can reach like how he does. “N-no…just you.” 

“Just me, what?” He continues, enjoying your struggle to form words as he fucks you at this pace.

“Just you can fuck me like this.” You admit. You’re not even saying it because he wants you to, but because you can honestly say that nobody’s ever fucked you like how he’s fucked you. 

“Good girl.” He praises. He runs a hand through your hair and slows his speed to a very slow, careful pace, admiring your features as your face contorts with pleasure. After about a minute, his hand finds your clit, his fingers rubbing harsh circles as his thrusts speed up to an unbearable pace again. He places a hand on your chest, pushing you down so that you’re laying with your back flat on the counter. 

The cold counter adds to the intense feeling. He pauses for a moment to pull your shiny, little dress up past your hips to keep it out of the way. When he continues, he’s drilling into you faster than before, giving you the last bit of his anger through his thrusts. Your back begins to arch off the counter, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. And just as you’re about to see stars, Rafe pulls out of you and steps back, pulling his boxers back up from his ankles.

An involuntary whine escapes your lips when his touch leaves you and you sit up on your elbows, trying to figure out why he stopped. Except he doesn’t say anything, he just lifts you up, carrying you upstairs and into his bedroom. 

When you get into his room, he sets you down just before the bed. “Shit, I almost forgot.” He mumbles. You furrow your brows and follow his gaze to his bed. On his bed sits a small gift box. You look back at him to find him staring at you. “Open it.” The demands, his tone almost displaying a small trace of excitement. 

You look back at the box, taking a few steps closer to the bed. You reach out to flip over the small tag on the box, it reads: ‘To: my favorite hooker’. Your breath hitches. He’s so frustrating with his persistence of using that word, ‘hooker’, when he knows you aren’t one. Well, you didn’t used to be one. But you have to admit, this seems almost…sweet, in a way. Sweet for Rafe anyhow. You fight back your smile as you reach both hands out, carefully lifting the lid off of the box, setting it on the bed. Inside the box lay some very beautiful, intricate lingerie; it’s clearly very expensive, judging on the fact that you can’t even pronounce the brand name. 

Rafe explains, “For what I ripped last time. I told you I’d replace it.”

“You did.” You say, getting lost in his eyes for perhaps a moment too long.

“Take it out.” He instructs and you obey, taking the delicate lingerie out of the gift box. Underneath the set, you find another gift. A vibrating wand as well as some thick ribbon. The vibrator you understand, the ribbon…not so much. You hold some of it up, turning to face him as if asking ‘what’s this for?’. Rafe understands what you’re asking and he responds vaguely. “You’ll see.” Clearly he enjoys keeping you on your toes, and you hate it. 

After changing into your new lingerie, you exit his bathroom and walk towards his bed. Quickly he has you laying on your back. He takes some ribbon from the box and straddles your waist leaning over you as he ties each of your wrists to a separate bed post. He then did the same with your feet. Now you’re all tied up for him, spread out on the bed and vulnerable. 

He leans down, hovering over you. He starts to kiss all over your body, his lips finding any open spot of skin on you. He pauses his kisses for a moment, leaning back up enough to look at you. He tells you, “Don’t wear this at the club.” Rafe leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your chest. “This is for me, yeah?” He mumbles, giving you yet another kiss. “My eyes only.” you nod in response, you agree. This is way too expensive to be wearing to the club.

“Yes, yes, only you.” You desperately plead. 

Rafe chuckles and starts to kiss down your body, He makes a momentary stop at your chest, mouthing over one of your nipples through the thin fabric, his fingers rolling your other nipple between his fingers. His actions elicit a loud moan to escape your lips as your body tenses up, struggling against the restraints. You now understand the ribbon. Last time, he had used rope to tie you up and it would painfully dig into your skin. But the ribbon was soft, not causing pain to be inflicted upon you as your body reacts to his actions. His mouth leaves your breast, moving to the other side, ensuring that it wasn’t left out. His hand also switches to pinch at your other nipple.

His mouth starts to travel down your body again as his hand reaches behind him on the bed to grab something. He mouths over your clothed cunt, making you whine and shiver underneath him; still sensitive from when he had teased you earlier on the kitchen counter. 

You hear a vibrating sound, but before your brain could register what it is, he’s using the new vibrator he bought for you, on you. He presses it firmly against your clit through the fabric of your panties. Your arms tug at the restraints in response, your legs trying, and failing to close. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed and weak. Lying here helpless as he assaults your small bundle of nerves. 

Rafe pulls your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt. He pushes the vibrator directly on your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body at the sensation. “F-fuck!” You cry, your abdominal muscles contracting as your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curl. Rafe leans in, using his tongue to lap up the juices that drip from your slick entrance as he keeps the vibrator steady on your most sensitive part. “Rafe!” You scream his name out as you cum, finally seeing the stars you were denied earlier, the build-up making it that much more intense. 

He pulls the vibrator away, only using his tongue to work you down from your high. When your body starts to relax more, he stops and moves back up your body. He sets the vibrator aside and kisses at your neck, leaving new marks of his own; darker and larger than the others. 

You’re still in shock at Rafe’s decision to use a toy on you. You definitely weren’t mad about it, that’s for sure. It’s just that typical guys won’t want to use a vibrator on you because they want to prove they’re better all by themselves. Rafe’s definitely good at sex, that’s just a given fact. But the confidence he has to use a vibrator on you, mixed with his skill…he’s fucking incomparable. 

Rafe unties your wrists, letting your arms fall and relax. Next he moves to untie the ribbon that ties your feet to the bed. Once you’re completely free, he gives you a moment, knowing how tiring that was for your body. He knows you need to recover if he wants to get more orgasms from you tonight. 

Though you appreciate his generosity, you want to help him out too. So you take him by surprise by placing your hand over his hard cock through his boxers. Except he still manages to be the one surprising you when he speaks. “Fuck…that feels…s’so good baby.” He groans, but moves your hand off his dick. “But let me take care of you, yeah? I know Barry’s got you workin’ a lot, hm? Heard you’ve got the most customers, is that right?” He asks, his hands starting to squeeze and massage at you calves 

“Mhm…” you agree, closing your eyes in relaxation. 

Rafe’s hands move to massage your feet, knowing the tall heels you’re always wearing have to be causing you some discomfort. And he knows he assumed correctly when you let out a deep sigh at his touch. “Nobody ever takes care of you, hm? Always just taking what they want and giving you nothing?” He leans in closer to your ear and whispers, “I like taking care of you.” Rafe starts to nip softly at your ear, making you moan softly. 

After a while, his hands leave your feet, moving back up your body. He gently pulls off the lingerie, setting it on the bed beside you two. He takes a moment to revel in the sight of you, taking in what he is lucky enough to have in front of him. One of his hands finds its way to your slimy folds, gently running over your entrance. He gathers some of your slick and brings it up to your clit as he begins to rub it in steady, slow circles.

Finally, he pulls his boxers off. He uses his other hand to hold himself at the base, gently stroking himself a few times as he looks down at you underneath him. Without much more preparation, he pushes himself inside of you. This time, he moves slowly. His mind isn;t clouded from the effects of cocaine and anger anymore, instead he just wants to help you feel good. He wants to take him time, even though you’re likely not going to last long after your previous orgasm. 

“Shit, so fuckin’ wet f’me. You’re always so wet for me, hm? Such a good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He groans, his mouth right next to your ear so you can clearly hear all his praises. “M’gonna have to talk to Barry for you. Can’t have you fuckin’ those other guys anymore. This pussy’s for me; it’s mine.” His speed gets faster, his pace more erratic as you get closer, your cunt squeezing around him tighter; ultimately bringing him closer to finishing as well. “Hm? You hear me?”

“Mhm…” you nod eagerly, getting so close to cumming that you can barely form a complete thought. “Y-yes Rafe. Yours, fuck! Yours.”

He gathers all your hair, tugging on it so that your neck cocks back, giving him full access to mark it up. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck; sucking and biting at your skin. “Only a slut for me, right? Nobody else, not anymore.”

“Yes…sure, fuck, okay yeah!” You scream. The recognizable feeling of your stomach tightening just for the band to snap, making your back arch off the bed, pushing your body against his as you reach another orgasm. “Ohh…nngghh…f-fucking shit!” You curse, your hand clawing at his shirt, trying to take it off. Rafe understands what you need and does it for you.

It’s not long before he gets to his peak with the way you keep squeezing him; so wet that he just slips right in and out. But before he cums, he asks you a final question. “Can I?”,is all he says but it’s enough for you to know what it is that he’s asking. He’s already done it before, so you don’t see the problem, especially not right now. You don’t even have it in you to say no even if it was what you wanted,

“Mhm…please. Please cum inside me, Rafe. I-I need it.” You admit.

Without wasting another second, Rafe’s movements slow down as he releases his load in you; painting your walls white with his cum. You could feel his warm seed spilling out of you, mixing with your sticky juices. When he pulls out, you feel empty. Your lonely cunt left clenching around nothing. 

Rafe lies down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You never had taken Rafe for much of a cuddler, but he’s full of surprises tonight. You return the action, wrapping your arms around him and draping a leg over him. 

After you’ve both had time to recover, you still just lie there, enjoying each other's silent company. But you finally decide to break the silence between you two. “Y’know, I have to admit that it is kinda nice to be with someone who can get it up without taking pills.” You joke truthfully, referring to all the old sugar daddies that pay for your services.  

Rafe chuckles at your words. He wants to say ‘I told you so’, to prove that he knew nobody else made you feel the same as he did, but fights the urge. Instead he just laughs. “Oh, I bet.” 

“Did…did you mean what you said about talking to Barry?” You ask on a more serious note.

Rafe looks at you, admiring your soft, tired, fucked-out expression as he runs a gentle hand through your hair. “Oh yeah, yeah. I can talk to him if you want. He usually listens to me.”

“And if he doesn’t?” You ask.

“Then I’ll make him.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I started this, I’m gonna fix it, okay? So don’t worry. You ain’t gotta fuck nobody you don’t wanna no more, yeah? How’s that sound?”

“Thank you.” You mumble to him, your eyes starting to get heavy and droop shut. 

“I hope that means you’ll still fuck me.” He teases, petting your soft hair as he watches you. 

You just nod, too exhausted to engage in his jokes. Rafe just smiles softly, appreciating the fact that he has you all sleepy in his bed; his arms. Of all the time he spent watching you and admiring you at the club, he never was able to imagine this moment.

He presses one final kiss to your head before closing his own eyes, pulling you in tighter. “I’ll take you back tomorrow, that alright?”

“Mhm…” You mumble under your breath, already half asleep. 

“Goodnight.” He whispers, pulling the covers over the two of you. 

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

Again, sorry if this is bad. I'm so tired and too lazy/impatient to proofread/edit. I hope this is good enough to fulfill your request!

[fastandcarlos]

Bottom Of The Pack : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: how does it feel to be bottom of the list of your boyfriends' priorities?

Your body was numb as you heard Oscar call through your home, letting you know that he was there. There was no response from you, no movement or sound, Oscar’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he walked further into the apartment to try and find you. 

It was as his eyes landed in the kitchen though, finding two plates of cold food up on the counter that Oscar realised why he was on the receiving end of such a frosty response from you, his body dropping in disappointment in himself. 

Your efforts that evening were huge to try and organise something nice for you and Oscar, only for him to text at the last minute to tell you he couldn’t make it. A few of his colleagues at work had suggested heading out to bond before the start of the new season and Oscar didn’t have it in him to say no. 

“Hi,” he nervously smiled, taking a seat on the sofa that was opposite you. “Sorry that I didn’t come home, it’s just work things, you know how it is.” 

“No, I don’t think I really do,” you shrugged, your voice blunt. 

It didn’t come as a surprise to Oscar, realising as soon as he walked through the door just how much he’d upset you. There were so many plates that he was having to spin, he didn’t quite know how to make sure that they were all balanced. 

“I really am sorry sweetheart,” Oscar spoke, trying to move closer towards you, only for you to move away. 

You soon picked up your phone, scrolling through some unanswered messages as you blocked out Oscar beside you, pretending to not even notice that he was in the room, deciding not to even give him the time of day. 

Oscar sat apprehensively for a while, hoping for some sort of breakthrough, but you gave him nothing. As time passed, Oscar became more frustrated as he tried to get through to you. You knew exactly what you were doing, almost enjoying making Oscar suffer beside you. 

“Is this how it’s going to be now? We’re just going to sit here in silence for the night.” 

“I’m fine with that,” you shrugged, not even bothering to look up and across at Oscar. 

A sigh came from Oscar as his hands brushed over the front of his face. “I’ve said that I’m sorry, I don’t know what else I can do. If I knew that you were planning on cooking for the two of us then I never would’ve done, but I just assumed that you’d sort yourself out instead.” 

You finally placed your phone down, glancing across at Oscar. “It’s not just about tonight, this is how it’s been for weeks. I appreciate you’ve got a lot of priorities right now, but I constantly feel like I’m bottom of the pack, like I’m nothing.” 

“You’re not nothing, you’re the most important person in my life.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff as Oscar spoke, feeling as if you had a role that was the complete opposite to the one that he assured you of. It killed Oscar seeing you dismiss him like that, not believing in what he had to say. 

“I don’t mean to make you feel as if you’re not significant in my life,” Oscar sighed, his voice a lot calmer than before. “You’re the person that I enjoy spending time with more than anyone else in the world.” 

“Really? Then where were you tonight?” You asked, keeping your voice as flat as possible. “When was the last time we actually spent time together? Not at work? Not with other people? Just us? 

As Oscar thought, the realisation hit him. He couldn’t remember the last time, the last time that he actually managed to find some time for his own girlfriend. 

Oscar stood up from his seat and walked over, taking a seat beside you. “I want to spend time with you, I want to be here with you. I want to be able to put things right and realign my priorities.” 

“That’s not just something you say, it’s something you do,” you reminded Oscar, unable to take his words as a guarantee. “I don’t want to be everything Oscar, but I want to be something.” 

Oscar nodded, taking in everything that you said. He slowly wrapped his arms around your figure, relieved when you allowed him to hold onto you rather than just pushing him away. 

“You are everything, I promise,” Oscar whispered against the side of your head, “I would never be in the position that I’m in right now if it wasn’t for you and all that you do for me.” 

Slowly Oscar felt you relax into his hold, his heart full of relief that you were at least starting to relax around him, even if he still had plenty of making up to do to make things right again. 

“Sorry isn’t enough, I’ve been stupid and blind to see how I’ve been treating you recently,” Oscar murmured, keeping his voice quiet. “I don’t expect you to trust me right now, but I want you to know that things are going to change, you are, you always have been, my number one.” 

“You know I’ve always supported you Oscar, but I’m not going to keep supporting you if I don’t get something in return. We’re supposed to be a team.” 

Oscar continued to nod, understanding everything that you were saying to him. He wasn’t naive to it anymore, he knew what he had done and how much hurt he had caused you, without even realising that he was doing it. 

“We’re going to spend more time together, starting tomorrow I’m going to make sure that I finish work earlier, get home more often and spend time with you. You’re going to feel like the most important person in my life, because that is exactly who you are my love.” 

You smiled weakly across at Oscar as his hand cupped the side of your face, bringing your face towards him as he placed the gentlest of kisses against your lips. 

It was a simple kiss, but it meant more to Oscar than he could describe. It was the moment he needed to know that he had a chance, that although you were mad at him, you were still going to be there with him. It didn’t quite say all is forgiven yet, but Oscar knew that was never going to be the case just yet. 

“You know, I think I would’ve preferred to come home to you tonight anyway, the team dinner was boring,” Oscar confided, a faint chuckle coming from him too. 

“They won’t speak to you again at work if you tell them that,” you reminded him, “you know how dedicated Zak is to only the best team building events.” 

Oscar shrugged as a glimmer of a smile appeared on your face too. “I’ll tell him myself, tell him he’s got to come up with something better to stop me from coming home and spending time with my girlfriend next time.” 

Your head shook, although Oscar meant every word. It would take something special for him to not spend his time with you anymore, not when he saw how close he got to losing you. 

“I don’t know if I’ve said it enough tonight, but I really am sorry,” Oscar reminded you once again, feeling your hand rest over his. 

“You don’t need to keep saying sorry Oscar, I know how sorry you are.” 

“I know...I just...really mean it.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna would have you as a sugar baby: exam season edition

college!sukuna masterlist

“You know what, I should just drop out,” you ramble, pacing in your living room, hair disheveled and a pencil behind your ear.

Sukuna just hums, sitting on the sofa while munching on chickpea chips he bought the other day saying that “protein is protein”.

“Or or or… I should find a rich man! Yeah, I should be a sugar baby,” you continue, and he just nods, mindlessly scrolling through the tv channels.

“At least I would be happy with my ass on a yacht. Hey, do you think I have sugar baby material?” You ask him, stopping for a second, thinking. All you get as an answer is a grunt. “Sukuna? Are you even listening to me?” You wave your hand in front of the tv. That catches his attention, but only for a mere quarter of a second.

“What?”

You sigh, exasperated. “Why am I even talking to you?”

“Do a spin,” he says, lowly, still not sparing you a glance, putting a bunch of chips in his mouth. You’re so out of your mind that you actually do, and when you turn around his eyes are on you for the first time since you started talking 30 minutes ago. 30 minutes of straight whines. He’s giving you a once over, gaze fixed over how your oversized sweater is falling from your left shoulder, letting him see the top of your boob. He imagines himself sucking exactly on that spot, your breath by his ear, his mark on your-

“Yeah, I’d pay for you,” he says nonchalantly, getting back to zapping.

“You would?” You say excitedly. “Wait. You would?” You add after a moment, taken aback, your face falling progressively. You whine again. “I’m never going to be a sugar baby,” you finish, sprawling out on the carpet near the sofa he’s sitting on, closing your eyes.

“Yo, I have taste, the fuck you mean?” He replies roughly, looking down at you and slightly kicking you in the ribs. Just enough to barely move you from your star-like pose. You open your eyes, looking up at his four ones, assuming a mocking face.

“Now do you?” You say, doubtful, rolling on your side before sitting up while he’s flipping you off. You’re face to face with his knees. Yeah, knees. Keep it PG.

He gets his elbows on said knees, putting his index finger under your chin to raise your face. “Yeah baby, I’d keep you as my prettiest whore if I had like 50 years more than I do,” he says. Then he immediately adds “But I don’t, so stop fucking complaining and let me watch my damn tv. It’s fucking Saturday, give me a break,” flicking your forehead and blowing on your face at the same time. He tastes like real chickpeas and you’re almost impressed by how the pack of chips didn’t lie about the ingredients. He sprawls back on the sofa, occupying as much space as he can by laying down on his side with one of his hands under his chin, returning to his chickpea chips with the other. You scrunch your face, then pout.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t take 5 exams in a week,” you whine, getting your forehead on the little 7 inches rectangle that is left naturally near his chest.

“Suck it up, pussy boy,” he answers, bored. You’ve been going at it for what feels like an eternity and he’d already have lost his patience if seeing you miserable didn’t get a snort out of him. You turn your head to face him, hair all in your face from the movement, but you don’t have the strength to put it in a more comfortable position.

“You don’t get it,” you sigh, your features turning even more worried. You stay like that long enough to start dozing off (and seeing how sleep deprived you are lately, that’s about 40 seconds max), hearing him clean his hands. Suddenly, you feel his hand brushing on your cheek lightly, moving your hair behind your ear and away from your face.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he tells you gruffly, scratching lightly on the top of your head. You hum. You know he’s right. He knows you know you’re capable of doing it. He gives your head a couple more pats before pushing it a bit.

“Go study and stop bothering me now. This tv ain’t gonna watch itself,” he says calmly.

You get up, nodding. “Thanks, man. I know I can always count on you for some backhanded comfort,” you reply, corners of your mouth turning upwards for the first time since exam season started (literally two days ago. Hey, you’re a smiley person!). He grunts, not looking at you again, and you know that’s all you’re going to get from him.

You get back in your room to study, and suddenly he finds himself losing interest in his chips in 15 minutes, the buzzing sound of the voices from the western movie he’s watching merely a background noise. Was it always so quiet when you weren’t around?

[hotgirlslovecyclops]

be nice!

logan howlett x reader x wade wilson

SMUT

word count: 3606

a/n: i don't know WHERE this came from. i felt this deep in my soul and needed to get it out i am SO SORRY JESUS (i just proofread this... i need to be put down). if anyone's out of character i am so sorry (no i'm not).

If there’s one thing Logan hates, it’s Wade. If there’s one thing Logan loves–even if he won’t admit it–it’s you.

His life is very confusing, living with the both of you. He’ll be with you and he’ll be calm, but then he’ll hear Wade breathe and you can see the irritation forming. He’s only been living with you for a few weeks now, but it’s started to feel normal, waking up to your cooking or your soft humming as you sweep.

This morning, he cracks open an eye when he feels something bump against his leg draped off the side of the couch. He’s ready to grumble, assuming it’s Wade, but he lets out a relieved breath when he sees you instead.

“Sorry,” you whisper, offering a gentle smile. “Didn’t mean to.”

Logan groans softly, stretching as he shifts on the couch. “Don’t worry about it.” You’d gotten used to this, his gruff behavior. It became like second-nature, being able to tell how the slight differences in his attitude gave way to what he was really feeling. “Come on, sit. You’re always working yourself crazy in the mornings.”

“I am not,” you contradict, setting down the broom and taking a seat next to him.

“Every day I wake up and you’re doing something, just relax, will you?”

“That’s because I’ve been awake for hours already, Logan.” You glance at Logan, and you swear you can see a hint of humor in his eyes, but then the sound of Wade’s bedroom door opening makes him roll his eyes. “Be nice,” you whisper.

“Good morning, my loves!” Wade sing-songs as he walks over to the couch, resting his hands on your shoulders from behind. You lean your head back against Wade’s abdomen. Logan’s hand moves to rest on your knee. 

“Hi, Wade.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Be nice,” You repeat, nudging Logan with your elbow. “How’d you sleep, Wade?”

“Oh, great. Dreamt about you all night,” he flirts. 

“Stop flirting with her, asshole,” Logan grumbles, his grip tightening on your knee. 

“Wow, Wolvie, you’re such a party pooper,” Wade says, walking away and towards the kitchen. Logan rolls his eyes, and you can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes you. The way Logan’s mood changes so quickly always gets you.

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” he nods, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him. “Come on, tell me,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours. This was… new. Logan’s so sweet to you—he always is—but sometimes he does things that really get to you. It’s hard. You know that he probably doesn’t mean anything by what he does, but Christ, he looks like that—and yes, you’ve seen him shirtless—which makes it impossible to ignore the butterflies that take flight in your stomach when he looks at you.

“It’s nothing,” you shrug, a smile on your face. You’d be surprised if your cheeks aren’t colored pink.

“Yeah?” Logan tilts his head, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Fucking Christ. 

“Yeah,” you nod.

“You look pretty like this, you know. Sittin’ in my lap, all flustered.”

“Yeah, she does!” Wade calls, his head peeking around the corner to look at you. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan demands. “Fuckin’ loser,” he whispers to himself.

“Be nice,” you say, for what’s probably the thousandth time this week. Logan grumbles, but doesn’t reply. He just stares at you, and his gaze softens. “Logan?”

“Hm?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?” he asks, an eyebrow perking up as the other furrows. “Kiss you?”

“Kiss me,” you repeat. He looks over your face quickly, like he’s trying to make sure that’s what you said, but it’s only seconds before his lips are pressed to yours, his hands moving up from your hips to your waist. 

You don’t exactly mean to, but suddenly you’re making out with Logan on the couch, your hips rolling softly, like you need something, and Logan’s not stopping you. You’re losing a sense of reality, the only thing your mind registering being his lips on yours, and then he’s using his hand to pull your hair gently, tilting your head to the side as he kisses down your jaw and onto your neck. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, your hand squeezing the back of the couch. Your eyes flutter open to see Wade standing in slight shock. That’s a rare look for him, you note. He brings a hand to his crotch, adjusting his pants. 

“I don’t even know what to say right now,” he says, and you’re sure you’ve never seen Wade speechless before. You’re drawn out of that thought by Logan’s teeth on your neck, a growl coming out of his throat. 

“Ah-” you wince, but it’s more out of surprise than anything else. Logan looks up at you to see your gaze on Wade, and it’s like something clicks for him.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” he questions. 

“What?” you ask, your gaze snapping to Logan. “What? What do you mean?”

“You like him seeing you like this,” he explains, but it’s like he knows the answer.

“I–” you’re about to deny it, but then you realize that you do, and now you’re just fucking confused. “Maybe.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl, happens to the best of us,” Logan says quietly. He must be able to tell you’re not just flustered, but embarrassed.

“You’re so hot,” Wade interjects, and you can see Logan fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Huh, at least he’s fighting it. 

“For the love of fuck–” he grumbles. “Is this what you want? You want us both, sweetheart?” You stare at Logan for a minute, trying to form thoughts—any thoughts—and then you’re nodding, and Logan’s raised his hand, gesturing Wade closer without even looking at him. “Whatever you want,” Logan says, his lips smashing against yours again. You feel Wade pressing against you, his hands moving your hair to one side so gently, like he doesn’t know what to do with you. His hands trail along your sides and stomach, occasionally traveling over Logan’s, which just makes Logan hold you tighter. It feels like a lifetime and yet no time at all before Wade’s hands dip under your shirt, lifting it as he feels you up. 

You’re whimpering into Logan’s mouth, and it would be humiliating, but the fact that you’re in a threesome is worse, so you don’t even think about it. “Sound so pretty, gorgeous,” Wade whispers, and Logan must still be peeved about this arrangement, because he’s tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away. 

“You’re mine, you know that, right?” Logan says, and you nod softly. “Good.” Wade tugs your shirt off, throwing it across the room before bringing a hand to your chest, your head tilting backwards. You catch a glimpse of Logan looking you up and down, and it makes your thighs twitch. 

Wade must’ve noticed your reaction, because he squeezes, saying, “It’s okay, buttercup, we’re gonna take care of you. I know it’s been a while.”

“Has it, princess?” Logan asks, and you’re nodding without even noticing it. This is embarrassing, the effect they’re having on you. “Aw, baby,” he teases. Wade takes his hands off of you, sitting on the couch next to you and Logan. Logan’s—big—hands move to your hips, moving you so you’re sitting on Wade’s lap, your back to his front as his hands replace Logan’s. As Logan stands in front of you, you pull at the hem of his shirt with both hands, before trying to push it up his chest. He chuckles lightly before pulling it over his head. Your hips are being forced up by Wade, as he messily tries to push your leggings off. Logan finishes the job, a hungry look in his eyes. 

“Can I take this off?” Wade mumbles against your neck, toying with the clasp of your bra. As soon as you nod, he’s pushing the straps off your shoulders, tossing it in the same direction (generally) as your shirt. 

“Such a pretty little thing,” Logan mutters, getting on his knees in front of you. What the fuck? His hands find your thighs, spreading them further apart as he looks up at you. “You like this, huh? I can tell.”

Wade’s lips are on your neck like this is all he’s ever wanted out of life, and it makes your head roll back. Fuck, has your neck always been this sensitive? You can’t help the surprised squeak that comes out of you when Logan’s fingers are gliding over your panties, his touch so light. Wade groans against your throat. 

“You hear that, baby? You sound so pretty, you’re making Wade crazy.” You whimper, Logan’s fingers pressing harder against you, and it makes you shift in Wade’s lap, his hands squeezing your hips like he can’t handle you moving. “Can I rip these?” Logan asks, tugging on your panties. “Answer, baby.”

“Yes. Fuck, yeah. Go ahead.”

“Good girl,” he says, taking the small fabric in his hands and tearing it apart.

“That’s hot,” you whisper, almost subconsciously.

Wade’s lips are still against you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulders, one of his hands playing with your hair. ”You like that? You are a good girl.”

“Yeah, you are. Fuckin’ good girl,” Logan practically growls, moving his fingers against you, watching how you squirm. “That’s a pretty girl.”

“Fuck, Logan-“

“You want something, baby?” You whimper in response. Wade’s hand moving to your chest. You’ve never felt anything like this in your life—It’s all just so much. “This what you want?” he asks, slipping two of his fingers inside you.

“Mhm, fuck—That’s so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you say, breathy, as Logan starts to kiss up your thighs, his fingers working you in just the right spot. “Baby—“

“Yes?” he asks, almost like he’s annoyed to have to stop kissing you.

“That feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna make you feel much better,” he barely gets out before his mouth is on your clit, his fingers still working inside you.

You whine, Wade sucking on your neck gently. “Wade, baby-“ 

Wade moans against your neck before pulling back. “What, sweetpea?” You grab his hand on your hip, guiding it up to your neck. “Oh. Oh.” Wade lets his hand wrap around your throat. “Didn’t know you were this kinky, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, keep talking, it’s sexy,” I say between moans. It’s like that spurs Logan on, his movements only growing more fervent. “Are you—Oh, my god—Are you trying to be competitive, right now?” I ask, my thighs twitching around his shoulders. 

“Maybe,” he says into your core. His voice sends vibrations up your spine. Maybe that’s dramatic, but who fucking cares?

“You like that, baby?” Wade asks. “That we’re fighting over you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You deserve this, you know. To be all loved up on, like this. Sweet, sweet girl. Don’t know what we did to get this lucky.”

“Oh, my God—Please–” 

“Please, what?”

“Yeah, please, what, babygirl?”

“I want your cock.”

“Who’s?” Logan asks, his voice bordering on dangerous. He draws his fingers out of you slowly.

“Either, both, I don’t care.” 

It’s quiet for a second, Logan’s eyes on you, and you can only imagine what Wade’s doing. Logan’s eyes flick to your side, where you imagine that Wade’s face is, and he nods in that direction. “You first,” he says.

Wade stiffens behind you, and he says, “Yeah, okay.”

In an instant, Logan’s pulling you off of his lap gently, asking if you want the bed. You nod, and Logan must notice the nervousness, ‘cause he lifts you into his arms, carrying you to bed. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t gotta be nervous. We’re gonna take care of you, remember?” Logan sets you on your bed gently. When you see Wade, he’s taken his shirt off, and you stare for a second. 

“You’re nervous?” He asks, crawling on top of you. “You shouldn’t be. You look gorgeous. You sound gorgeous, too. You’ve got nothing to worry about. We’re in this for you,” he says, kissing down your body before pulling back to take his boxers off and put on a condom. Logan lays down on the bed next to you, helping you get on top of him. “You ready for me, baby?” Wade asks as he lifts your hips gently. 

“Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Logan encourages, his hands roaming your sides. You feel Wade rubbing his tip against you, and it makes you whimper. Fuck, what have these guys done to you? You don’t even have the chance to think about it, though, because Wade’s pressing into you only a second later, and fuck, it feels good. The noise that Wade makes behind you should be illegal—It’s turning you on far too much. “He feels good, baby?” Logan asks, his hand grabbing your chin, making you look at him. “Come on, answer.”

“Yes! Yeah. He feels so good.”

“Good. I like seeing you like this. So pent up, so pretty,” he says, taking your hair in his hand so it stops getting your face. Seriously? He’s gonna do something so sweet, now?

“Fuck,” Wade groans, drawing out the word. “You feel so fucking good, gorgeous.”

“Wade–”

“That’s me.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” 

Wade picks up the speed of his thrusts, and it’s like you really can’t form a thought anymore. You don’t even know what Logan’s doing to you, even though you know his hands are on you somewhere. Your moans and whimpers are starting to sound like someone else, almost. Wade’s thrusts are harsh, drawing a sound out of you every single time.

“Wade–Wade, baby–”

“What, babygirl?”

“I’m so close,” you squeak. “So close.” Wade groans at that, his grip on your hips tightening. 

“I’m right behind you, sweets. Don’t hold back.”

You nearly forget that Logan’s there, until he’s kissing your neck and chest. “You heard him. Don’t hold back, princess.”

“I’m right there–Oh, my God—Call me a good girl.”

As if on cue, Logan and Wade talk in unison, “Good girl,” And you never would’ve imagined that could be so sexy. You hear your moans devolve into high-pitched whimpers, and if you didn’t know that you were so close already, that would’ve been a telltale sign. Wade notices too, or he must, because he goes faster—somehow. “There you go.”

“Fuck, fuck, baby—Wade, baby, I’m—” you cut yourself off with a particularly high-pitched moan, feeling the coil in your stomach snap. Wade lets out a moan, and his thrusts grow sloppy, his grip on your hips intense. You struggle to hold yourself up, but Logan’s got you, and when Wade pulls out, he helps you lower into his grasp, wrapping his arms around you as he plays with your hair, whispering into your ear.

“There you go, baby,” he says, shushing you affectionately, “I got you. It’s okay.” You feel the bed shift with the weight of Wade at the edge.

“Holy fuck, sweetcheeks.” Wade’s hand trails gently on your calf. “God. You’re amazing. I’m obsessed with you.” Logan’s hands are tracing patterns on your back, now, as he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. 

“Wade?” he waits for Wade to hum in response before continuing. “Get outta here.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, no objections. When the door shuts behind him, Logan shifts, looking at your face. 

“You okay? That was okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, still catching your breath. You can’t even believe that just happened. 

“Good,” he says. “Good. You sounded like you were having a good time.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” Logan corrects, and you lift your head, meeting his gaze. There’s this look in his eyes, like he’s happy, really—truly—happy. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“All… cute. It’s making me wanna do things to you.”

“Oh.”

“Just ‘oh’,” he teases, a smirk on his face.

“I mean—Uh…” you blink a few times, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I’m… so horny, I’m sorry,” you explain. 

“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not gonna apologize for that,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You want me to help you with that?”

“Please.”

“Good girl. Got fucked by her friend, and she’s still got manners.” Logan shifts under you, sliding a hand between your legs, toying with you, just a bit. It makes you hum, and you catch Logan start to smirk again. “I love that noise. You make this little squeak, and it’s so fucking cute, princess.”

He uses his hands to tilt your hips slightly before starting to line himself up with your entrance. You don’t even remember him taking off his pants, or have any idea when he put on a condom. “I’m gonna take care of you, yeah? I know we said Wade would, but…” he shrugs. “Trust me, I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, nodding. He could tell you to do anything, and you would. It’s a brief moment before he’s pressing into you gently, and you feel every fucking inch. 

“Oh, Jesus,” he practically growls, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. When he starts to move, you swear it’s like an out-of-body experience, but that could just be because you’re already nearing your second orgasm in ten minutes. 

“Logan, baby—Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, princess? Love it when you curse, it makes you sound all tough.”

“Logan!”

“There’s that squeak,” he says, picking up his speed. You move your hips against his. “That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

“Oh, God—”

“What, does that feel good?”

“Yes, fuck, yes!” Logan chuckles softly, but it quickly turns to a groan as you lift your hips before slamming them back down to his. 

“Are you insane?” he growls, holding onto his hips like he’s worried you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. “You can’t just do that—Jesus.”

“Why not? It felt good. I know it did,” you reason as he continues to thrust into you. 

“Felt too good.”

“I wanna do it again,” you say, a dangerous tone in your voice.

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?” you ask, meeting his gaze with the best puppy-eyes you can muster.

“Fuck,” he grumbles. “Okay, sure. Whatever you want, princess.” You lift your hips again, crashing back down onto his with a force that makes you whimper. This is probably harder for you than it is for him, honestly. “Sweetheart–”

You repeat the motion, and it takes the breath out of you. “You feel so good.”

“Baby–” he starts, but he’s cut off as you slam back down onto him. “Are you fucking—Jesus. Baby, you gotta stop that.”

“It feels so good,” you whine.

“I know, but I wanna fuck you, properly.”

Logan’s words make you whimper, and he takes that as an opportunity to roll you over, settling on top of you. He waits for you to nod before pressing into you again, not wasting any time to fall into a torturous pace, thrusting into you like his life depends on it. He uses one of his hands to hold himself up, and lets the other rest on your neck, careful not to apply any real pressure. One of your hands goes up to hold his wrist, and you grab it hard. 

“You need somethin’ princess?”

“Just… don’t stop.”

“I’m not,” he grumbles.

“Logan, baby—”

“I know. I know.” He tilts his hips slightly, hitting an entirely different part of you, and it makes you moan. “Come on, come for me. I know you’re right there.” Logan grunts as he thrusts into you, each one hard, he’s unrelenting, until you’re squeaking out his name, your legs trembling, and your grip on him tightening. And that’s when he knows that he’s got you right where he wants you. “There you go, pretty girl. You’re so good for me. So good,” he says, fucking you through your release. He slows when can tell you’re on the tail-end, and pulls out gently. “There you go,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. 

“Uh—You didn’t…” you trail off.

“Oh, don’t worry about me.”

“But—”

“Sweetheart, you just came twice—’Cause you were getting fucked by two mutants—So I’m not letting you move a muscle. Don’t worry about me,” Logan insists. You nod, and Logan says he’ll be right back—he pulls on his boxers and leaves the room, coming back quickly to clean you up. He has water, too, which you find so sweet. 

He lays next to you a minute later, pulling you into his side. “You know… I’ve had my eyes on you since we met.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Then I found out you were the sweetest thing on this planet, and I felt bad about all the things I wanna do to you,” he says, and you can practically hear the smirk on his voice when he continues to say, “Didn’t know you were into threesomes. Really, I wouldn't have guessed it.”

“I’m not. Not usually, I mean—I don’t know,” you exhale. “You live and you learn, I guess.”

That makes Logan laugh, a real laugh, and you smile at the way his chest moves under you. You’re like this with Logan for some time, chatting while he toys with your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. And you see a new side of Logan, someone more full of life, someone happier. 

“I’m serious, by the way. You’re mine—Or at least, not Wade’s,” Logan says, and it makes you laugh, this time. “That’s funny.”

“No,” you say between chuckles. “It’s not funny,” you giggle.

“That’s what I thought,” he smiles, pinching your side. “Not Wade’s.”

“Definitely not Wade’s.”

[kentopedia]

I loooveee the way u write nanami 🥺🥺 was wondering if u could do a mini fic on nanami x reader but when they were in high school :O I feel reader would constantly flirt with him but he stays unbothered until she stops 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank uuuu

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS — nanami kento

omg thank u so so much, you're very sweet <3 i think i was taking requests when you asked this, so im so so so sorry i took forever to answer :( this isn't exactly what you said but i hope it's close to what you had in mind <3

contents: sfw, high school nanami & reader, mutual pining, silly teenage emotions, fluff, it's not even really romantic but they're best friends that won't admit they have a crush on each other, reader is shorter than him, gn!reader — 1.2k

“you can’t stay mad at me forever, kento.”

your best friend — or so you thought — stayed silent as you walked through the abandoned warehouse, searching for the curses that needed exorcising. so far, they’d evaded you, just as kento had all of your questions.

he glanced over at you, mouth drawn into its usual line. “i can if i want.”

“oh really?” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued forward, following him through the building. “are you fifteen or five? you’re supposed to be the mature one!”

kento rolled his eyes, but didn’t dignify that with a verbal response, letting his blade dangle loosely at his side. an odd sound echoed through the hallways, but it wasn’t quite menacing enough to be a curse.

you groaned. “don’t you know everyone will just keep pairing us up on missions until we work this out?” if kento was going to continue to be a pain, you wouldn’t allow him the silence he wanted so desperately. he’d been ignoring you for over a week. “haibara’s lucky. he gets to go with the second years.”

nanami glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow, before looking ahead once more. “you mean he’s lucky he gets to go with gojo.”

though you weren’t sure if it was supposed to be an insult to you or not, you laughed. “maybe.”

“yeah,” kento scoffed. “i thought so.”

the tone was flatter than usual, even for someone like kento, and you raised your eyebrows, letting the words settle between you.

“you’re being so sour. you know, you never even told me what i did wrong. you’re so mad at me, kento, and i don’t even really know why.”

kento watched his feet take one step, then another, the opposite ones moving ahead. he’d grown a lot over the summer — a fact you’d somehow only realized. since when had he been that much taller than you?

“i’m not mad,” he finally settled on. a weak argument as to why he’d been ignoring you for the duration of your mission, and the week before.

you frowned, chewing the inside of your mouth. although kento had a kind heart, you knew how nasty he could be to people he didn’t like. you didn’t want to be one of those on the list. “kento… i really am sorry. if i’ve done something wrong.”

the tension drained from his shoulders. he sighed. “you haven’t.”

despite wanting to push the issue further, you let it die, deciding to listen to the silence in case of any curses. though, it had been nearly half an hour, and you hadn’t found any yet. you were beginning to think that maybe your teacher had led you astray.

“can i ask you something?” kento, after ten minutes, finally interrupted the quiet again. and though that sort of phrase was never a good sign, you would’ve taken anything to get him talking to you again.

“of course, kento.”

he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, seeming shy, almost. had it not been so dark, you would have seen the slight tint of pink on his cheeks, that you only assumed was there to begin with.

“what is it about gojo that you like so much?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“you’re… interested in him, aren’t you? like that?” kento shifted awkwardly, holding his body as if it wasn’t quite his own. “i mean, i just assumed…”

all over, you great hot, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, a wave of dread heaping onto your stomach. “you think i have a crush on gojo?”

“don’t you?”

you thought about it for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“maybe?” kento pinched his eyebrows together. “what the hell kind of answer is that? you either do or you don’t.”

“i think he’s...” you stumbled over the words, not really sure when you’d started talking to nanami kento about these sorts of things. the words tasted sour in your mouth. “well, i suppose he’s attractive, isn’t he? he’s certainly charming. he makes me laugh.”

“you’re always flirting with him," kento said skeptically.

you shrugged. "i'm just teasing. if you consider that flirting, then i guess i am."

“hm. you sound like you think you’re supposed to be interested in him, just because he’s gojo.”

that raised a small laugh out of you. “maybe you’re right. i think i might just be interested in people i know won’t ever like me back.” kento’s eyes flashed, and before he could say anything, lips parted, you continued. “but what do i know about anything, anyway? teenagers are supposed to be dumb like that, aren’t they?”

kento frowned, brown eyes softer than you’d seen in awhile. “i don’t think you’re dumb.”

“thanks.” for some reason, that made you bashful, darting your eyes away as you smiled at the ground. “have you ever had a crush on anyone, kento?”

he gave you a tiny little smile, poking you in the temple, before repeating your words from earlier. “i don’t know. maybe.”

“you’re so stupid.”

kento laughed, then, a light noise that was more familiar to you than it was to a lot of others. “you know, if it makes you feel better, i think gojo likes you. really, i do. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes when you laugh at his jokes. geto told us. he talks about you to him all the time.”

and though you’d expected the words to send a wave of glee over you, the sort of silly emotion that came with a teenage crush, you didn’t feel excited as you should've. perhaps because satoru had never been the one you wanted.

“gojo just likes to be admired. besides, everyone likes when people laugh at their jokes. that's not special.” you kicked at the floor. “anyway, geto’s probably just telling you all that so you’ll tell me and i’ll make a fool of myself in front of them. that would really make them laugh.”

kento frowned, contemplative. “i don’t think he would do that.”

he wouldn’t. it just seemed the only good way to diverge the conversation.

you threw your hands up, expelling a loud sigh. “well… whatever. honestly, it doesn't matter. i don’t think i even want a boyfriend.”

kento gawked at you for a moment, lips slightly parted, before he shook his head, another snort of a laugh leaving him. “you’re so confusing.”

“you should be relieved. wouldn’t you be miserable if i started dating gojo?” you were only teasing him, bumping his shoulder with your own, a playful grin on your face.

but kento’s voice was gentle when he returned his answer, and the relief was evident on his face. “i would.”

whether you knew it then, or not, that little confession had changed the course of your life. you brushed it off easily, gripping your cursed tool tightly as you turned the corner again.

“hey kento?”

“what? the curses are going to sneak up on us if—”

“you’re my best friend, by the way. even if i was dating gojo, you’d still be my best friend. you’ll always be my best friend.” you stopped him, serious now. “no matter what happens.”

kento smiled softly, barely there at all. he squeezed your hand in return. “i hope so.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The doorbell buzzes. You loathe that noise. You stay as you are, unbothered by the visitor. You already hear Kitty asking Adrienne who it could be. 

You continue to shuffle through the contents of the cigar box. You’re neither surprised or disgusted by the love letters. You know your mother’s writing and you know it isn’t here. You always assumed your father was rotten to the core. No, you were certain of it. The proof only makes you feel worse for your mother. 

The door opens. There’s voices. Soft tones. Kitty’s, Adrienne’s and... his. 

Then, footfalls that ascend the stairs. Too heavy to be your sisters’. You close the box and toss it in the black bag. There is not box to keep. All your father’s stuff needs to go. You have no use for it. 

“You know I’m here,” Barnes says as he appears in the doorway. 

“I do,” you take the old baseball your father made you catch as a girl. He was always disappointed he never had a son. It makes you want to smile knowing he never got the thing he wanted the most. 

“You’ve had your time to mourn,” he says, and nothing else. His meaning is clear. 

You drop the ball and get off the floor. You cross to him with your head down. He’s stoic and still. You reach for his hand. That makes him flinch. As if he’s surprised. He lets you lift it and you kiss the ring on his pinky. 

You let him go and look him in the face, “he’s gone. It’s over. Let’s move on.” 

His brow arches and his eyes narrow. “You understand what happens now?” 

“You take care of my sisters. That’s all that matters to me.” 

“All about family,” he remarks. “Well, real family.” 

You’re silent. You don’t know what he wants you to say. Your heart is in your throat, can’t he see it beating there, choking you. 

“I showed you my loyalty. I did that and I will never tell a soul.” 

“Oh, I know, doll,” he smirks and shifts his weight. It’s your turn to wince as he brushes his knuckles along your cheek. “I don’t just want that loyalty for one night.” 

You blink and fight not to let your fear show. It’s all so uncertain yet deep down you know exactly what he means. It just seems all too much. 

“Sit down,” he drops his hand and turns. He shuts the door. 

You avoid your father’s bed and instead, sit at the vanity where your mother would perch and apply her night cream. He paces and puts his hands in his pockets. He exhales and measures the air. 

“It’s sorted. Everyone knows what happened. Vengeance is taken, the tables are balanced,” he says. “So we move forward. Your sisters are protected. They will have roofs over their head. You will too.” 

You stare at him, waiting for the other shoe. 

“Doll,” he tilts his head, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Just say it,” you sniff. 

“Say what?” 

“Tell me what it costs,” you sneer. 

He snickers, “that’s what I admire about you. You don’t beat around the bush. You come to my office, tell me to off daddy. You won’t even let me charm ya, dammit. You just wanna get down to business.” 

“Please,” you beg. “I... I can’t take any more.” 

His expression softens and he approaches you delicately, like an animal he doesn’t want to scare off, “we’re gonna have a big wedding, doll. You’re gonna wear the most expensive thing you can find, and we’re gonna drive off into the sunset together.” 

You gulp and search his face. It sounds ridiculous. You don’t know this man, he doesn’t know you. Yet, he’s the only man who knows what you did. Who know that you could do something like that. 

“Ah, come on, I’m a real man,” he unbuttons his jacket and reaches inside. “I’m more than words.” He takes out a hexagonal velvet box. “So, let me know if it fits.” 

You hesitate but accept the box. You open it with some effort, the hinges are tight. You snap the lid up and stare at the ring within. It has a large teardrop diamond at the center and four decent sized ovals to each side, with little round diamonds worked in between. The gold gleams with the elaborate style of the thick band. 

You slide it out and turn it in your fingers. It has to be worth more than all the stuff your daddy pawned off. More than even this house. You roll it over again and line up your finger with the band. You push into it and it fits snugly below your knuckle, covering half your finger. 

“Too big,” you say. 

“Loose?” He wonders as he leans a hand on the vanity table. 

“No, it’s... clunky,” you wiggle your hand. 

“Never thought I’d hear a woman complain a rock was too big,” he says. “Doll, I expect you to show off. You’re mine, I’m yours. That’s something to brag about.” 

“Flashy. Distracting,” you comment. 

“Any man stupid enough to try to steal that off ya, he won’t be thinking much longer,” he insists and grabs your hand. “Come here.” 

He tugs you until your standing. He admires the ring on your finger and his cheeks dimple as he grins. He puts your hand on his shoulder and wraps his other arm around you. Sweat beads across your scalp and down your back. He’s so close you can smell his mellow cologne. 

“Always good to have more to love, isn’t it?” his fingers curl into the cushion of your hip as he crushes you against him. He brings his palm up to cradle your face as his eyes drift down to your lips. He purrs and rocks you.  

You shudder as your breath catches in your chest. The idea never fully bloomed in your head. You never dared to imagine this. Yet here it and it’s more startling than anything you could ever fathom. 

He turns his hand to frame your chin and pulls you even closer. He leans in and presses his mouth to yours. His beard tickles you as his lips caress yours and his tongue pokes out coyly. You close your eyes as you open up to let him in. 

Your heart thrums behind your ears as you seal your deal with that kiss. You didn’t barter for your freedom, just another master. 

[roanniom]

Um for Eddie positions

On your back with your legs over his shoulders

Or laying on your stomach. Like you were laying on your side in bed and he comes in to cuddle up and can’t help himself

Or he bends you over the back of the couch

Or him holding you up against the wall because he can’t wait to get to the bedroom

Or with you sitting on the bathroom sink trying to get ready in the morning

Or on the edge of the pool during a midnight swim

Sorry I’m newly single and reminiscing

Omg never apologize for sending me beautiful, hot thots like this!!! I love them.

I think the idea of Eddie holding you up against the wall because he can’t wait to get to the bedroom is WILD.

Impatient

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

“Eddie,” you huff against his lips when he finally migrates his sucking, biting kisses down your jaw to your neck, giving you a second to breathe. He’s tugging at your layers and beginning to discard them haphazardly right there in the living room.

“Princess,” he replies into your skin, mimicking your tone and breathlessness. You chuckle and in spite of your next words you thread your fingers deep in his hair.

“Eddie, let’s go to bed.”

He’s shaking his head before you finish your sentence.

“Can’t wait. Need you now.”

“Impatient much?”

You start to laugh again but all the humor is replaced with blind lust when you’re shoved against the wall. His hard body is against yours, confined erection pressing and rutting into the apex of your legs.

“Feel that? That’s what you do to me. You wanna be sexy as hell and tell me I gotta wait to go all the way to the bedroom to fuck you. Nah. No dice.”

“The time it took you to say that we could have—.” You don’t get to finish your teasing contradiction because his mouth is on yours and his hand is pushing up your skirt. He finds you wet, exactly as he assumed he would, and your moan spills from your mouth into his.

When he begins fingering you in earnest and you can no longer keep up with kissing him back, Eddie pulls a few centimeters away to watch the way you crumble against the wall.

“Wanna go to the bedroom now, princess?” he asks, smug because he knows the answer. You do your best to stare daggers at him but it’s in vain because your brows are furrowed and your eyes are rolling back with pleasure.

“Just fucking fuck me already, Munson.”

“Somebody’s impatient,” Eddie chuckles. But he yanks down his jeans and pumps himself a few quick times before lining himself up with your dripping entrance.

You both moan, all humor and teasing gone the second he sheaths himself inside of you.

It’s hard and fast as Eddie works himself up to a good rhythm. It’s been a while since he’s had you quick and dirty against a wall, but there’s something so fucking hot about the fact that you’re only a few steps away from the front door.

“Holy fuck, can’t believe you would have deprived me of this pussy,” Eddie whines after a few minutes of sweaty, panting, skin-slapping silence.

You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t already threatening to roll back into your head.

“The room’s like 15 feet away, how’s that deprivation? This is an apartment, not a mansion!”

“I can’t hear you over how good you feel, shit.”

Already so turned on from being fingered, you’re on the edge very quickly, which is good for Eddie because he’s beside himself.

Your head lols to the side against the wall while Eddie bangs you into it. You watch him take his pleasure and squeal delightedly when he reaches down to play with your clit, prioritizing your pleasure as well.

“Fuck I’m close.”

“Don’t hold back, baby,” Eddie grunts.

“You’re just saying that because you’re waiting for me to cum so you can,” you say cheekily.

“You bet your ass I am. Almost busted my load just rubbing up against you.”

“Romantic,” you huff, but he sees how your eyes glaze over and feels your pussy tighten even more.

“Prince Charming for you, only, princess.” He grins and kisses your neck. That’s what does it, if you’re being honest with yourself. You cum hard, seizing around him and feeling him cum only seconds later (he’d been hanging by a thread).

~*~

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—-

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Dick, and Jason reacting to his gn crush told him that they know his secret identity so he would let them bandage his wounds?

Dick

‘You knew?’ Dick said as he sat himself down on your bed, his face covered in bandaids as his arms covered with bandages, dressed in comfortable clothing after a long struggle due to his injuries. ‘How?’

‘There were signs that I ignored or didn’t think to look too deeply in until I did, just for everything to come together and realising that my initial assumptions were close to being right.’ You shrugged as you sat down next to him, looking him over to make sure that you had managed to patch up every possible injury he had, hoping he wasn’t hiding one without your knowledge.

‘That or maybe you just wanted an excuse to patch up my wounds. Or seeing me shirtless as I’m patching up my wounds, one or the other.’ Dick teased but couldn’t help but think of all the possible danger you were now going to be in due to knowing who Nightwing was, and while he wasn’t ready to admit to everything he does as nightwing to you, he knew that if he didn’t then you wound find a way to figure it out on your own somehow.

‘Maybe.’ You said, trying to hide your feelings of sheepishness from him. ‘That or the fact that I know you well enough to see through that domino mask of yours, something that doesn’t do much to hide the more easily recognisable features.’ You add as Dick then sighs.

‘You shouldn’t know this, you really shouldn’t.’ He tells you as he reaches for your hand, squeezing it. ‘I know you were smart enough to connect the dots but I don’t think it would happen so soon. I just wish you would’ve stayed naïve to it for a little while longer, just until I was ready and felt that it was safe enough to say something.’ He looks you in the eyes where you could see his conflicting emotions there. ‘I just wanted to keep you safe from all this, but I failed at that too.’

‘Life doesn’t work the way we always want it to.’ You began, squeezed his hand back in reassurance, ‘I know that from this point onward it won’t be easy for either of us, I’ll have a target on my back but I have made peace with that fact-‘

‘Well I haven’t.’ Dick interrupts. ‘You could be in danger because of me,’ he then uses his free hand to hold your cheek, ‘how am I meant to be okay with this knowing that I might not be able to save you.’

You smiled at him and leaned into his touch, careful of his injuries. ‘You’ll always save me, you’re Nightwing.’ You tell him before giving him a light, reassuring kiss on the forehead.

Jason

‘I’m telling you baby bird I tripped.’ Jason said for what felt like the fifth time that night as you continued to pester him about the gash on his arm.

‘Or you were out being Red hood and gotten hurt protecting some kids from Crime Alley.’ You replied casually as Jason stiffened, now looking at you surprised.

‘Why would you assume i’m him?’ He asked, watching you closely as the fear of the consequences this knowledge would bring, especially when it was someone close to his heart knowing his -now not so- secret identity.

‘You come back with injuries more severe than just tripping over thin air.’ You told him as you held his cheek. ‘That and I may or may not have seen firearms left lying about whenever I visit and thought nothing of it, only to do some research and have come to find that those are the same exact firearms Red hood has.’ You add as Jason internally curses himself for getting too comfortable with leaving his stuff out in the open so carelessly.

Fatigue be damned.

‘Okay you’ve figured me out, congratulations, but you really shouldn’t know that I’m Red hood, I’m not exactly well liked.’ He warns you, not wanting you to get hurt because of him, if you did he wouldn’t forgive himself for as long as he lived.

Loosing you wasn’t worth keeping his secret identity under lock and key. He’d gladly expose himself if it meant keeping you away from harm, but until then he knew that he’d have to keep close tabs on you whenever he could.

Or he could train you in self defence while still watching over you regardless.

‘I know.’ You tell him as you patched up the wound on his arm. ‘But when am I allowed to worry of over for doing something reckless.’

‘I was trained for this lifestyle sweetheart.’ Jason reminded you. ‘I’m more attuned to fighting crime and getting hurt doing so, it’s not a big deal.’

‘It’s a big deal to me.’ You spat, blinking back tears, ‘ I don’t want to see you come home with wounds worse then the last, worried to death that I might loose you.’ You add as you began to cover up the wound on his arm with a gauze before moving onto to adding the bandage securely.

‘Well I don’t want to loose you either.’ Jason said as he lifted his free hand to wipe away the tears that manage to fall from your cheek. ‘My identity is not worth your life baby bird. Not in the slightest. I won’t risk you, you’re too important to me to lose over this.’

‘More important than Red hood?’ You asked, not wanting to ruin the moment between you two.

‘So much more than you’ll ever know.’ Jason replied without hesitation.