#I'm so so grateful that he had the support he needed to fight this I'm so fucking relieved

[yujeong]

I didn't have a Tumblr account when the scandal started. I actually created one around the end of May 2023, a little before Build had his comeback concert. However, I had a Twitter account, which means I saw everything: I saw Build crying at the sponsored event he had with Bible, I saw the confusing translations, I saw the official announcements, I saw all the hate and vitriol, I saw Poi's unhinged behavior, I saw it all. Those were some of the worst months of my life. Build's story felt personal. Not only because Pete became so important to me, not only because KinnPorsche the Series became a second home, but also because his story was similar to what I'd been through. I was experiencing my previous relationship that finished a mere few months before the scandal started all over again, and it fucking hurt. It hurt seeing him get so much hate. It hurt seeing people celebrate him leaving BOC. It hurt seeing him at the verge of tears outside the court house and it hurt not knowing if he was ever going to come back to acting or to the public eye at all. It still hurts. It's something that is never going to stop hurting. To me, this story has been over since last year. I knew he was innocent already, I didn't need the court decision to tell me that. But what happened today reminded me of something I'd always known but temporarily forgot: it was never over for Build. It will never be truly over for him. Today was a much needed victory, one he deserved a long time ago, but the scars this whole thing has left on him will remain there. And that's also something that hurts me and will never stop hurting me. I'm glad, too, Build. I'm glad you're still here and that you have your fans to support you. And since I'll probably never be able to tell you this up close, Thank you for giving me Pete. Thank you for everything.

[fakebwitch]

rafe encourages you to keep riding him…

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

your mouth open trying to catch your breath, your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as your movements slowed, your legs numb, and rafe's cock was buried in your pussy. after riding him for what seemed like an infinite amount of time you stopped by sitting on his cock, its tip hitting your cervix, you let out a soft whimper feeling it throb inside you.

you found yourself in this situation because of you. your pussy aching for him, needing to feel his cock inside, begging him all day long for attention and when he finally gave in you thought he was going to fuck you, but instead he let you do all the work. he sat there, his hand barely on your thigh, waiting for you to ride him without giving you any help.

you tried to speak, but nothing that made the slightest sense came out of your mouth. your head already dizzy as you found yourself getting more and more needy wanting to reach your orgasm. rafe looked at you for a few seconds, his eyes half-closed as he felt your pussy tighten around him, “what is it?”he asked you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“i'm tired...” you managed to get out of your slurred mouth, your voice dim and weak as you moved your hips slowly, trying to find a clutch, his cock hard inside you and you desperately wanted to move but couldn't. rafe shook his head as his eyes moved downward, watching the way your pussy was fully sunk on his cock. all day long you had been so bratty, interrupting him as he was doing his work, filling out and reading important forms, begging him that you needed him, his cock, to feel him inside you, teasing him with mischievous touches, and when he had given you what you had been begging him for all day, you weren’t even grateful.

stopping after just five minutes, hoping that he would pound himself into you. rafe had figured it out early on, when he had told you that you were going to ride him, that you were not happy about it, a pout evident on your face but you tried not to show it, in the end you still got his cock.

“you can do it princess” he incited you starting to lose his patience, the grip of his hand on your thigh tightened slightly, also eager to feel your hot tight pussy sucking him in, but he was determined to let you do all the work, he had to fight against himself not to hammer himself inside you. he knew it was all a plan of your to get him to take charge, but your attitude would not work this time.

rafe wasn't pleased when you didn't respond, the hand he had on your thigh went up slightly, his thumb and forefinger tightened around the soft skin, you let out a grunt of pain as his fingers pinched your skin tightly, “c'mon baby, move” he exhaled, his fingers still clenching your skin. you nodded lightly starting to pick up the pace, riding his cock as you threw your head back.

a tear ran down your cheek, ending on your lower lip, the pain of his pinching mixed with the way his cock was stretching you so well, repeatedly hitting your cervix, were enough to push you to the edge. your eyes closed as your mouth was wide open, continuous moans escaped your lips.

“so good baby, takin' it so well” he praised you as his fingers let go of the skin of your thigh, a red mark visible on the freshly pinched spot, and within a few hours it would become a nice big bruise. “wasn't that difficult, right?” he said mocking you as his hand tightened around your tit, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“fuuck” a big moan escaped your lips as your hands rested on his chest seeking support, your rhythm fast and deep, feeling every vein of his cock pulsing inside you.

“fuck that's right, keep going baby... such a good girl for me” he praised you as a slap landed on your ass, rafe’s head turned back enjoying the full pleasure of the warm wet walls of your pussy, squeezing and wetting his length.

[zepskies]

Headcanon: When You're Having His Child...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This one is requested by @cevansbaby-dove, and is kind of a continuation of this imagine: When you have morning sickness.

Tags/Warnings: Potential fluff overload.

HC: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor.

Dean Winchester

Oh, sweet man...

Dean does the thing where he pretends he has his shit together.

He's really trying, for your sake, for his own, and to save face around Sam and Eileen and Jody and everyone else in the hospital waiting room.

They can see it, and he knows it: he's freaking the hell out.

When he's in the room with you, he's either helping you, holding your hand, waiting for you to be dilated enough to start the whole "having a baby" process, or pacing around on those bowlegs, occasionally dragging a hand over his mouth in that telltale nervous gesture.

"Babe, come 'ere," you say with strain. That last contraction really took it out of you. "You're making me even more nervous than I already am."

Dean goes to you and smooths a hand over your hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. How're you holding up?"

Tears well up in your eyes, but you try to breathe through it. You're overwhelmed, you're in pain, and you've been in labor for several hours already.

"We're ready for this, right?" you ask, squeezing his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed and makes sure you look him in the eyes.

"We're about to find out," he says, with a bit of teasing. But his gaze is steady when he brings your hand up to his lips. "You don't gotta worry about anything. I'm gonna be with you, come whatever, okay?"

You smile, because you don't just believe him. You know.

Because after years of fighting together, surviving together, living together, you know that this is just one more adventure you get to go on with him by your side.

Now, Dean would rather not see all the gritty details of the birth, but he stays in the delivery room, letting you squeeze the shit out of his hand. He's not going to leave your side. He's wiping sweat from your brow and encouraging you, being whatever kind of support you need.

After the baby's born and the nurses bring her back all cleaned up, Dean holds his daughter for the first time.

He has tears in his eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't even blink. He stares down at that small, perfect face. Already he sees some of your features in her.

He can't put into words how he feels. It's overwhelming in his chest. But one thing is certain...

Dean's never been more grateful to be alive than in this moment.

He blinks, and the first of his tears fall. He brings her to you, sitting down carefully on the edge of your bed again so you can hold her. You're beyond exhaustion, sweaty, and weeping, but one thing is certain...

You've never been more grateful for Dean than in this moment.

You turn to him, giving him a small smile. He returns it, and he leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" one of the nurses asks.

You and Dean share a look: his imploring, yours knowing.

"We're not naming her Baby," you warn him.

"Aw, come on."

Beau Arlen

Round 2! 🫡

Beau runs the gambit from excited, to anxious, to freaking the hell out, and back to excited.

This is "Round 2" for him. His second child. But he's had reservations about being an "older" father to a new baby. (He's pushing 50 at this point. No matter how much he keeps in shape, he still feels his age in his bowlegged knees.)

You've assured him that plenty of men have children at his age.

Regardless of his insecurities though, you know he's still over the moon. Beau has always wanted more kids, deep down, and now thanks to you, he's getting his wish.

He's the man who's "prepared for anything."

When your water broke, he already had your to-go bag ready with everything you might need.

But he continues to ask you questions from the moment he's got you out the door to the drive over to the hospital, and even in the lobby.

"You thirsty? You comfortable like that? How's the pain? Just breathe, baby. I gotcha. Watch your step now. You hungry? We've got protein bars in the bag, unless you're cravin' something else. First things first, let's check in. Oh, I hope we can getcha in a private room. Let's see--oh damn, they sure are packed today, huh? Okay, how're you holdin' up? How's the pain, level of 1 to 10? Yep, got it, hold my hand. Just breathe through it. I gotcha."

Bless him. The man means well, but he's driving you freakin' crazy.

"Beau, I know. If you don't take a breath, I'm gonna pop you in the damn nose."

He tries not to smile at your grumpiness. "...Okay, I hear ya. Let's just get you into your room."

He rarely leaves your side during the entire labor, just to get you anything you might actually need. The radio at his belt occasionally goes off for work, but he apologizes, having forgotten to turn it off. He put Jenny in charge while he's gone.

"Let's just hope the precinct's still standing when I get back," he jokes. He finally turns off the radio and takes it off his belt, to your relief. And he returns his undivided attention to you.

Beau witnessed the birth of his daughter Emily, so he's no stranger to being in the delivery room. He even ventures past the curtain when your son is born, breathing air into his little lungs and letting out a powerful cry.

Beau laughs with tears in his eyes. "That's my boy."

When the nurses place him into your arms first, Beau supports your hold and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. "Good job, honey. Good job."

"I know," you tease weakly.

Beau chuckles. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and looks down at the small bundle in your arms and his.

"We have a son," Beau says. His eyes are red and shining. "I have a son."

"You have a son," you nod. You look over at him and lean in for a kiss. He obliges you, and rests his forehead against yours afterwards.

Life is meant for moments like this, he thinks.

He's damn grateful it's with you.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Readers of Strong as Blood in the BMD-verse will recognize some of this HC...

This day has been a long time coming, for both of you.

He smells like cigar smoke when he comes back into your recovery room. For which you have no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Butcher and M.M. outside the hospital. 

Ben was with you for most of the lead up to the birth, but you actually agreed that having him in the delivery room wasn't a good idea. He never did well with you in pain, and with his temper, he might just scare the shit out of the doctor and nurses.

He strides toward you though, when he enters the room. He lays a hand on your head and another on the baby's tuft of brown, downy hair.

"We have a daughter," you tell him, with a watery smile.

Part of him still twinges with disappointment. He didn't react well when he found out you weren't carrying a boy, his future son.

(You'd given him enough hell that he never brought up the subject again.)

But that all fades away when he looks down at his daughter's face.

He carefully sits on the edge of your bed, but he's suspended in time. His chest tightens in a way he's never experienced before.

It's almost like pain, but not. Not at all.

He brushes a thumb along the baby's soft cheek. He's almost hesitant to touch her, knowing how fragile she is.

"Beautiful, like her mother," he says at last. And he means it.

He earns your smile.

"Flatterer," you accuse. You know you look as wrecked as you feel. Somehow, none of that matter's whenever you look at your child's face.

You look over at Ben with a shining smile. His lips twitch. He leans in and meets your lips with a kiss, slow and deep and intimate in this quiet little room.

“You okay?” he asks you, after he pulls away. “Got everything you need?”

He’s become even more protective, of course, but also more attentive to you. Especially in the last few months of your pregnancy, seeing how uncomfortable you've become.

It warms you every time, when you consider how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he can be.

It seems that fatherhood is beginning to soften him, even before he begins. You quirk a smile at the thought, and at his question.

“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you say cheekily.

He snorts a bit loudly at that, and you shush him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expects nothing less from you.

“But I’m okay,” you answer his second question. “All I need right now is you.”

Ben considers you, a slightly gentler smile curving his lips, and he nods.

“All right,” he says. In this moment, he realizes that his entire world is in this room.

He’d never admit it, but it's a terrifying thought, for a man who once had everything and nothing.

You unknowingly stop the path of his thoughts when you ask him, "Want to hold her for a while?"

Ben perks up at attention. He's a bit uncertain on how exactly to hold the baby, but he can't lose face and tell you that. So he just accepts the bundle when you place her in his arms.

As he looks down at a small face that already has some of his features, he inhales a faltering breath.

It's the first time you ever see true tears in his eyes, despite how much he resists. One manages to draw a path down his cheek. 

“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, sweetheart,” he says. It elicits a knowing scoff out of you. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”

Ben looks up and finds the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes. His smirk softens around the edges.

“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he says.

AN: All right, I'll stop. 😭 I hope you enjoy this one, fluff overload and all! Who was your favorite this time: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 💜

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[ptergwen]

Hi there, I'm SO HAPPY YOUR BACK! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Tom Holland Peter Parker x fem Stark reader based on this prompt?: You’re unconscious after a mission gone wrong, and Peter’s voice shakes as he desperately calls your name, when Tony comes. If you don't want to do it, its ok

stay

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w/c: 2,005

warnings: mentions of blood, angst (happy ending!)

a/n: hi lovely thank you sm! you guys know i love my angst so i felt very in my element with this one hehe, thanks for the patience while i get used to writing again! feel free to keep sending in your reqs and chatting, i love hearing from y'all and will answer asap ♡

"y/n? it's over, i got him. i’ll come find you, okay?"

you don't answer.

"y/n/n? can you hear me?"

there's only silence on peter's end of the headset. peter isn't worried, not at first. he figures maybe you just got disconnected.

"y/n?"

nothing.

now that peter hasn't heard from you on the third try, he is starting to worry. the two of you had gotten separated during your mission. the plan was for you to distract your opponent and peter to web him up, but you lost him somewhere along the way. it was hard to stick together in the dark, twisty tunnels. he'd thought it would be best to take care of your opponent himself and find you after.

tony is going to kill him if he let anything happen to you. it's okay, though. he can just use his suit to track your location.

"friday?"

"yes, peter?"

"take me to y/n."

peter swings through the tunnels to get to you faster. friday guides him, which he's grateful for because he doesn't have a great sense of navigation as is. it's even more difficult underground. peter lands where friday tells him to, but he doesn't see you.

"are you sure this is where she is? i think she might've lost connection... maybe her location didn't update."

"y/n's watch is online, peter."

peter notices something on the ground, its blinking light catching his attention. he picks it up. sure enough, it's your stark tech watch, but where are you?

"would you like me to check again?"

peter makes out a figure a few feet away. it isn't moving. he takes a few steps toward the figure, reaching for his mask.

"that's okay. thanks, friday."

he removes his mask to see better, brows knitting together. something doesn't feel right. peter's senses confirm it, the hairs on his arms standing up and eyes focusing harder in the darkness. in peter's head, he already knows it's you. in his heart, he hopes it isn't.

peter crouches down and puts a hand on the figure's shoulder, rolling them over to face him.

it's you.

your spandex suit has some rips in it, and dirt is coating your back. your mask is pulled up part of the way. peter takes it off, revealing blood dripping down your forehead, your eyes just barely open. tears roll down your cheeks. peter cups your face tenderly in his hands, eyes desperately searching for yours.

"oh my god, baby, what happened?"

"that guy."

your voice comes out weak. despite the blood and tears staining his gloved fingers and the tightening in his throat, peter does his best to stay calm.

"what guy? the one we were fighting?"

"yeah."

"he did this to you?"

you hum in response. peter props an arm behind your head for support.

"it's okay. everything's gonna be okay."

"but... it hurts."

"i know, baby. but you're gonna be okay. we're gonna get you home and..."

your eyes flutter closed.

"hey, hey, hey. look at me."

peter strokes your cheek, willing you to stay awake. you grunt.

"tell me where it hurts so i can take a look. can you do that for me, y/n? where does it hurt?"

"my head. on top."

peter carefully parts your hair, searching for the source of your bleeding. there's a damp patch of hair near the top of your head. he moves it aside and finds a gash. it's small, but fairly deep. he doesn't think he can handle this on his own; he needs to tell tony.

"i’m gonna call your dad, okay?"

you don't respond. your eyes are closed when peter looks for them.

"y/n? you have to stay awake."

you don't say or do anything to indicate that you hear him. tears prick peter's eyes, threatening to spill over. he doesn't know much about head injuries, but he knows this isn't good.

"please wake up, y/n/n."

peter grabs both your shoulders and shakes, hard enough that it should wake you. nothing. you seem to have slipped into some sort of an unconscious state.

your watch starts to beep with an incoming call from your dad. peter accepts it with a shaking hand.

"friday tells me your vitals are suspiciously low, little lady. what's going on?"

peter fights to keep his tears at bay. he cradles your head with one hand, placing his other on your heart. he needs to feel your heartbeat to remind himself you're still here.

"it's me, tony."

"kid? where's y/n?"

a quiet sob escapes him, tears finally falling. tony doesn't need to hear anything else.

"i’m on my way."

it doesn't take long for tony to get to you and peter. he comes whirring through the tunnels, retracting his iron man suit when he lands. you lie on the ground, your head in peter's lap. you'd woken up shortly after peter spoke to your dad, but you aren't really responsive. peter is cradling your head gently in both hands and whispering words of reassurance.

he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice tony is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"what happened, kid?"

tony kneels down next to peter.

"i... i don't know. the guy we were fighting... i didn't see, i think she hit her head."

"okay, okay. let me see the damage."

tony uses his watch to illuminate the dark area. there's dry blood all around the crown of your head, in your hair. it's worse than he expected. he doesn't let it show, though. he doesn't want to alarm you any more than you already are, or peter for that matter; he's a mess.

"i found this."

peter moves your hair to show your dad the wound on your head. tony shines the light on you to get a better look. concern flashes in his eyes briefly, but long enough for peter to see it.

"friday, call the med bay. tell them it's my daughter."

"yes, boss. it appears y/n may have a concussion. i've detected a large contusion."

you bring a hand up to your head, trying to feel the wound. peter coaxes your hand away with a don't touch, baby. you try to say something, but you can't. you're in too much pain. your dad and peter share a knowing look.

"we'll be there soon, fri. make sure they're ready for us. and call happy, tell him to pick us up asap."

"i’ll let them know right away, boss."

a bright light shines directly in your eyes, making you stir a bit in peter's lap. you whine and squeeze your eyes shut. fresh tears fall down your cheeks.

"it's okay, it's okay. it's just your old man."

you squint your eyes open.

"dad?"

"hey, y/n/n."

"what... what're you doing?"

"just gotta take a look at something. look up?"

you try to open your eyes again, but your eyelids feel heavy. tony holds one of your eyes open himself, then the other. he clicks his tongue.

"what's wrong? is she okay?" peter asks your dad.

"pupils are bigger than they should be. still reacting to light, though. that's good."

"what does it mean if her pupils are too big?"

"friday's right. she could have a mild concussion."

the light turns off, your body finally relaxing. peter's body stiffens.

"that's serious, isn't it?"

peter looks from tony to you, stroking your hair and cupping your cheek, then back up at tony. tony can see the fear in his eyes.

"it shouldn't be, the bleeding just gave us a scare. we'll know more when we get her home."

you grab at peter's knee. he places his hand over yours, thumb smoothing along the back of your hand. you look around the tunnel with blurry vision.

peter doesn't like the uncertainty of this. they don't even know the extent of your injuries, just that they might be serious. he knows you're going to be okay, that tony and the med bay team know what to do and you'll bounce back from this because you're you, but he's scared. you've never been hurt this badly before.

"happy's got our location. he'll be here as soon as he can," tony tells you, voice uncharacteristically soft. you blink your eyes in response. "how long is that gonna be?" peter asks.

"i’m not sure, kid."

hot, frustrated tears fill peter's eyes.

"we can't just wait around anymore. she's been like this for a while."

"trust me, pete. i don't like waiting either."

"then let's just bring her back ourselves."

tony gives peter a stern look.

"let's not."

"why not? it's faster if one of us takes her. i’ll swing her there right now."

peter is already scooping you into his arms, preparing to pick you up. you groan at the sudden movement. tony removes you from peter's arms and takes you into his own protectively.

"i said no. we're not flying her home, and we're definitely not swinging her. it isn't safe."

peter stays quiet, blinking back tears.

"you've gotta remember, y/n isn't like you. she doesn't have powers. for the stark's, it's just us out there."

he knows tony is right, of course he is. he forgets how vulnerable you actually are because you're always so strong. riding home with happy may take longer than peter wants it to, but it's safer for you. he needs to think about your best interest. putting other things first caused all of this in the first place.

if peter had found you earlier instead of finishing the fight, maybe he would have been able to get you help sooner. maybe you wouldn't be in this bad of a condition.

"i’m sorry, tony. i’m really, really sorry."

"no biggie, i get it. you're just looking out for her."

"no, that's the problem. i wasn't."

"what're you talking about?"

peter can't hold back his tears any longer.

"i wasn't there when y/n got hurt. it must've happened when we separated. when i found her, she... she was already like this."

"hey, kid. don't do that, don't blame yourself. you didn't know."

"i could've known if i paid more attention. i could've heard, or... or maybe she said something."

peter avoids tony's gaze, too ashamed to look at him, and too guilty to look at you.

"everyone gets caught up, pete. hell, you know i do. but you know what? you're here for y/n now, and we're taking care of her. that's what matters."

"you mean, you're not mad at me?"

tony surprises him by outstretching an arm and pulling him into a side hug. peter manages a small smile, wiping at his watery eyes.

"do i seem mad?"

"guess not. thanks."

tony pats him on the shoulder.

"time to go. happy'll be here any minute."

"okay, i’ll go ahead of you guys so you can see where you're going."

peter starts to collect your things while your dad helps you up. you're disoriented, head pounding, and you stumble a bit because you don't quite have your balance. tony is quick to catch you.

"easy, y/n/n. you're alright, yeah?"

"i want peter."

"he's right here, just leading the way. i’m gonna help you."

"no, i want peter."

peter's heart clenches. he looks to your dad for permission.

"alright, parker. i'll trade you. but be careful, she's precious cargo."

tony lets go of you, but he stays close just in case. he takes your things from peter. you fling yourself into peter's arms, hiding your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. peter hugs you to his chest. tony smiles at peter and nods in approval, making peter smile back.

"i got you," peter coos. "are you gonna need help walking, or you got it?"

"i dunno, i'm dizzy. carry me?"

"sure, baby."

peter picks you up bridal style, one arm secured under you and the other supporting your head. you loosely wrap your arms around his neck.

"can you stay with me when we get there?"

peter kisses the side of your head lightly.

"i’m not going anywhere."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[sceletaflores]

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV. 

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place. 

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. 

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later. 

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. 

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve. 

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway. 

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you. 

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine. 

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips. 

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars. 

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress. 

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice. 

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae. 

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it. 

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly. 

And he does, without hesitation. 

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth. 

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path. 

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. 

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. 

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

 Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white. 

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop. 

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[landossnorriss]

i see you - pt.2 | ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: lando and his lady make it through media day in spa. series links. Word Count: 1.4ishk Warning: some angst, some hurt, some healing, just the love and support i hope lando is getting tbh.

there were very few times that she was free to attend back to back races with lando. it was more often than not she tried to line up her time off so they could spend his breaks together but following hungary a few well placed phone calls had switched things around. anything that needed to be done critically was done so over zoom and the rest was simply put on pause.

she knew that lando felt bad about it, but the sure sign that he needed her was the way he had simply accepted her moving everything around without much of a fight. she had tried it before, after austria and a few other races and insisted that he would be fine on his own. when it had come down to it this week though and he tried to find the words to send her on her way and actually let her go and do her own thing the words he knew he should stay had stuck in his throat and instead he had found himself infinitely grateful to have her in his life.

things had been okay, bearable at least, whilst they had been in france with p and max. with his love around he hadn't needed to be on his phone too much and the noise had been easy to block out but when it had come to wednesday night and he had finally braved the storm his stomach had been left rolling.

the team orders that he had managed to silence were suddenly back and in full swing, the calls with andrea ever since the face had been loud and clear in his mind. he had been in calls for hours at this point, as they covered what he would and wouldn't say and in each of them lando had found himself wishing zak was around, someone in his corner but the message had been understood - you race for mclaren or you don't race at all.

lando had looked at her then, and that was when she had known she made the right call as he ended his meeting and she wrapped herself around him as tightly as she could. would she be able to kiss away the self doubt she could see creeping into the back of his mind? did they really think he had such a little shot at winning the wdc that they wouldn't give him that extra push to help him get there?

the real guilt had hit lando when he'd checked the news around oscars win and the headlines had painted him a villan. that much she knew he could have stomached on a normal day had it not been a dark cloud of sweet oscars first win. she'd reassured him as they laid in their bed trying to sleep before press day that it was going to be okay, that oscar understood but each time he managed to pull apart the differences in their wins. the atmosphere, the celebrations, the team spirit, each pieces he managed to pick at another blow to the carefully crafted shell he wore for the rest of the world.

as media day rolled around and the boarded their flight she stuck close to him, her fingers linked with his constantly as she questioned just how well he was going to wear that persona today. how much damage would each story he was forced to tell today do to him?

lando for the most part did what he needed to do, he wore the team name with a smile she knew didn't reach his eyes but the rest of the world would find beautiful anyway. "how are you holding up?" the question was loaded as she wrapped herself around him in a tight embrace, offering a beaming smile at the kiss he pressed to her nose, the driver determined to do everything he could to recharge in the small break he got for the day.

lando knew they were all waiting to tare him apart, he could see the doubt in each reporter's face when he had given his well rehearsed answers. but the guilt of clouding oscars win was genuine and he would do everything he could to back pedal that part at least. the team... well he didn't know how he felt about the team right now. "i'm tired, but eternally grateful that you're here you know?" he sighed as he lent on her with more of his body weight than he likely should be everything else was just so heavy he needed a minute to just, lean on her.

"want me to go into the next round of interviews? give me that cap and let me at em?"

lando could only raise a brow at her offer because he had been swiping her phone off her for the past two days to stop her from reaching out to post any of her thoughts and feelings on the weekend that had just gone. "no love, i think we're safer if you stick to being the best girl a guy could ask for." would he have been able to get through this weekend? he really wasn't sure. "is it mad i almost wish i could just say i didn't want to race this weekend?" he asked quietly, his thoughts just for her as his hands moved up and down her back a little.

she couldn't help the way her frown formed at the thought, she wasn't sure she had never known lando not want to race. ever. "don't let them win lando." not stella, not the media, not anyone that was doubting him at this point could undo what they were doing to him. how could they not see that? "you're p2 lan, you did that, not your team no one gifted you a damn fucking thing, you'd be much closer to p1 if you had a team that worked with you and this weekend was shitty but it doesn't define who you are as a racer ok?" that much she would not budge on.

letting his face soften lando nodded as he buried his head in her neck for a moment, taking in everything about her that kept him grounded. he truly didn't know what he would do without her here this weekend, press day was bad enough without the thought of having to do it all alone and the results this weekend. god if he won it was going to cause more harm for the team, more shit for osc, if he lost it was only going to validate everything that people had been saying to him about miami. "you're right i just...tell me you see me?" so much of this week already felt so perfectly crafted he needed to know, there was one person that still saw everything.

she felt her heart break all over again at the request and whilst it had been a long standing mission to make this man feel so loved, the desire to do so only increased as her eyes locked onto his ocean green ones. "lando norris, i see you, i adore every single part of you and i will protect you with every part of me do you understand, not a single thing that happens this weekend defines anything about you if it's outside of your control. do you see you too my love?" pressing to her toes she let her lips capture his softly, her nose scrunching at him slightly with a face that usually set him off into giggles.

today the slight chuckle he could muster for her was enough. "i'm working on it." seeing himself the way she did, was the hardest part of it all. "just a few more bits and we're out of here love." all he wanted was more time to sleep and wrap himself in her.

"i'm going to head to the hotel, get us pizza, get notting hill set up, text me when you're ten minutes away and i'll meet you in the shower?" she offered lightly as he reluctantly pulled away from her. "i'm going to kiss every single inch of you i love." and she'd do it on repeat all night till he believed her too.

giving a low groan lando nodded, the description of their evening his very definition of perfection when he was feeling like this. "i still do know what i did to deserve you, i shouldn't be too much longer and we'll all be being driven back." he nodded as he straightened himself out, making sure his hat was back in place as he looked out to where people were milling. "wish me luck baby?" he hesitated, fingers drumming on the door as he lingered to keep sight of her.

"you don't need luck baby, you're lando fucking norris."

*pics from landoupdates <3

[lyiswriting]

Plus size!reader x Stalker!OC

Past mention

Things about Landon!

I kinda want Landon to be like a Punk/Jock. Idk I'm figuring it out

How I'm thinking they met

Met the reader in the subway. It was a rush hour and the train was packed and she was standing in front of him. He didn't pay attention at first just scrolling on his phone. Until he looked up and they accidentally made eye contact. He fell so quickly, he couldn't stop looking at her as she squirmed. His gaze making her uncomfortable, she thought he was handsome but why would he be looking at her. Reader doesn't question her beauty but it's still weird.

Offered her his seat but she refused as it was already hard to get around and her hips weren't about to fit in that space. He insists but she keeps refusing. Eventually they both drop the conversation but Landon doesn't stop looking at her. Taking in every inch of her, even sneaking a picture the best he can.

Things he starts to do

He starts purposely missing his usual train to take the same one as reader. Once this starts to affect his schedule he changes it so it can fit. Doesn't even need to talk to reader as long as he gets to look at her.

Observes everything about her. Her style, purse, pins, keychains, anything! To try and get more information on her, soon enough he catches a glimpse of a tag on her purse. That's how he gets her name and quickly takes it to social media.

Starts to purposely push people out, makes sure there's a seat next to him. Once this fails the first couple times and reader doesn't sit next to him he re-thinks. From observing he notices she tries to take as little space as she can. And from media he finds out people complain about plus size people sitting next to them. So he starts to stand, stands next to her, glances at her phone, down her shirt, and into her bag if he can!

Subway can get pretty rough so when they hit a rough patch he always uses it as an excuse to get closer. Putting his hand on the bar next to her, "stumbling" into her, grabbing her so she "doesn't fall" all with that innocent charm of his.

Diary keeping. Writes down everything! Even if it's the smallest glance it will have almost a whole page. What reader wore, if she had a snack, how she looked, and not only the stuff you can see. But the stuff he's imagining, the bra color, the beauty marks, the positions.

He starts incorporating her into the things he does. I'm not sure what I want Landon to work as but reader does make her way into it. If it's art she is his muse, he draws her and paints her body all the time. Over and over making sure every detail is just right not leaving a single mark. If it's music, his lyrics describe her. The plush of her hips, his need to grab and bite. If it's business or something of the sorts he creates things that allows plus size people to be more included. Like more sizing, open spaces, and things he knows she will like.

Reader isn't Landon's type.

By reader not being Landon's "type" I mean he has never been with a bigger woman. He's stereotyped to be seen with that classic skinny, blonde, and blued eyes. It will play into the gaslighting and manipulation I have planned for him to do.

Landon is used to getting what he wants.

Even if he has to fight for it he will have it. Anything and anyone. He's patient and will achieve. Yes, this does mean he would kill for reader.

Reader makes Landon feel like he's never felt hormones before.

He's confused himself because he's never been shy with women, always had options. So the way that he can't get her out of his head is insane to him. Spends hours and hours just thinking about reader, drawing, writing, rewatching videos he's taken, printing pictures, picking out gifts to send her, and watching porn but looking for her. Anyone that looks like her but it's never enough because it's not reader!

I'm so happy and grateful for the support on the first post! So here's some stuff I have planned for Landon. Definitely more to come and more scenes!

[tealfates]

welcome!! how about kinich or scara(or anyone , its your choice ofc!) x reader hurt/comfort with an insecurity of your choice where they finds you staring into a mirror? hehe anyways good luck and now i can proudly say supporting since day 1!

-anonnie, hope to talk to you soon!

Kinich x Reader comfort <3

When it was rainy season in Natlan, everything felt dampened, muddy, and that’s how your spirits felt today, after a particularly difficult training you had pushed yourself through. The clouds overhead grew heavier by the second.

The clouds overhead grew heavier by the second. Even as they did, the storm that raged inside you seemed louder than anything the heavens could muster. You found yourself inside the bathroom of you and Kinich’s shared home, knuckles gripping the cool tile of the sink tightly as you faced yourself in the mirror, silent tears streaming down your face, almost in sync with the raindrops pattering down on the windows.

Why had everything felt so overwhelming? Why did it seem like no matter how hard you tried and trained to become better, to help fight off the abyss for Natlan, you were never good enough? You buried your face in your hands, the weight of your emotions threatening to pull you into the darkness of the abyss itself.

It was then that a soft but steady voice broke through the storm—both the one outside and within.

"Are you alright?"

You looked up, not noticing that Kinich had been standing in the doorframe, and you hadn’t realized that he had approached, footsteps silent as usual. His eyes, holding a special softness reserved only for you, looked at you with concern, his usually stoic expression now etched with subtle worry.

Kinich, always strong, calculating, useful to Natlan, didn’t deserve to witness your weakness and pitiful fit. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

"I… I’m fine," you whispered, voice shaky, though the lie tasted sharp on your tongue.

Kinich was quiet for a moment before stepping closer, his presence grounding and gentle. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. The rain outside was beginning to fall heavier now, thundering against the glass pane, but you felt safe in his arms.

"You’re not fine," he said softly, his voice almost a murmur against the backdrop of nature's fury. "I can tell."

His simple touch was warm and grounding, and it made the tears start flowing again—this time, without shame or hesitation.

"I'm sorry," you whispered through the sobs that wracked your chest. "I don't want to burden you with this…"

"You’re not a burden,” Kinich said, his voice steady, yet filled with an undeniable gentleness. You proceeded to bury your face in the fabric of his shirt, stealing his warmth with gratefulness.

Kinich remained with you without question, without judgment—just with an unspoken understanding. His hand stroked your hair softly, the motion reassuring and kind.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his breath warm against the crown of your head as he placed a soft kiss there. “Whatever it is, it’s alright to cry. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Everything feels so overwhelming,” you choked out. “I don’t know if I can keep up anymore with everyone. They’re all fighting hard to defend Natlan, and I’m failing, no matter how hard I try to fight.”

Kinich’s grip tightened around you, and he pulled you back just enough to meet your gaze. “You’re not failing,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You’re allowed to have moments like this. We all are.”

You stared at him, breath hitching in your chest as his words sunk in.“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to fall apart like this,” you whispered, voice trembling.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Kinich replied with a gentle smile, though his eyes remained serious. “You’re human. You deserve to let go, to lean on someone when you need it.”

You cried until there were no more tears left to shed, knowing that you didn’t have to face the world alone.

The rain outside had stopped, leaving nothing more than droplets on the windows, as you tilted your head up to face him. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice steady now.

He gave you a rare, soft smile in return. “Anytime.”

———————

authors note~: thank you so much anonnie! Glad to see you here from day 1 <3 I appreciate you so much!! On a different note y’all how do people get their stuff so aesthetic?? istg I need like a tumblr parent to teach me how to do this stuff hahahaha

[aventurineswife]

Hey, can I request Dan Heng IL, Aventurine and Kaveh from Genshin (separately) with their female or gn (doesn't really matter) S/O carrying them bridal style? Like they complain that they are tired or something and the reader just picks them up and starts carrying them? (And they're like- woah, I didn't know you were so strong)

Please and thank you.

Rest Your Weary Head

Tags: Dan Heng IL x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Comfort, Caring, Tender Moments, Fatigue, Support, Gentle Touch, Emotional Support, Romance, Soft Moments, Tenderness, Acts of Kindness, Physical Affection, Established Relationship.

The journey aboard the Astral Express had been long, and the weight of responsibility on Dan Heng's shoulders had been heavier than usual. He walked beside you, his long strides slightly slowed, his hand occasionally resting on his forehead as though trying to fight off a headache. The quiet, usually stoic expression on his face had softened today, revealing the exhaustion that had settled deep in his bones.

"I think I need a moment," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... tired."

You glanced up at him, noticing the slight slump of his shoulders. The eternal caretaker within you stirred. Without saying a word, you stepped up beside him, carefully wrapping your arms around his waist and lifting him into your arms, bridal style.

Dan Heng's eyes widened in surprise, his usual calm demeanor faltering just slightly. "W-wait—what are you doing?"

You simply smiled, feeling the cool weight of him in your arms. "You’re tired. It’s the least I can do."

He tried to protest, but his usual sharp, composed tone failed him as he let out a quiet sigh. "I... didn’t realize you were so strong," he murmured, his eyes softening as he looked at you, a mix of admiration and mild embarrassment in his gaze.

You felt his body relax against yours, and a small chuckle escaped his lips. "I suppose it’s a good thing that you’re not as tired as I am."

"Rest," you said gently. "I’ll take care of the rest."

And as you walked forward, Dan Heng settled into your arms, quietly grateful for the moment of peace.

The night air on the IPC space station was chilly, and despite his usual composure, Aventurine’s steps were slow, almost dragging as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. He had been pushing himself relentlessly, navigating high-stakes gambles and endless political machinations. The night had taken its toll, and now he was feeling it—his trademark smile was gone, replaced by a weariness that even he couldn’t mask.

"You've been running yourself ragged, haven’t you?" you asked, noticing the subtle tremor in his hand as he adjusted his collar.

"I’m fine," Aventurine replied with an easy smirk, but there was no hiding the exhaustion in his voice. "It’s just... a little more than I expected, is all."

You raised an eyebrow, not believing his words. With a quick motion, you reached out, sweeping him off his feet, bridal style.

"Ah, what—?" Aventurine blinked in shock, his arms instinctively wrapping around your neck as he stared at you, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes widened, a mischievous glint flickering despite his fatigue. "Well, this is unexpected."

"You look like you could use a break," you said, your tone casual. "Let me help."

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and then, as if realizing the absurdity of the situation, he chuckled. "I didn’t know you were so strong... But this is quite a... bold move. I suppose I can’t argue with it."

You smiled, walking with him in your arms, and for the first time in a while, you could sense the genuine relaxation in his body. Aventurine’s usual bravado had given way to quiet gratitude.

"Just don’t get used to it," he teased lightly, though there was a warmth to his words that contrasted with his usual aloofness. "I’ll be back on my feet soon enough."

The sun was setting over Sumeru, casting a golden glow across the city as you walked alongside Kaveh. He had been working tirelessly all day, his mind consumed by his latest architectural project. Yet, despite his passion for his craft, it was clear that even Kaveh had limits, and today was one of those days where he had pushed himself too far.

"I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going," Kaveh muttered, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "Maybe I should just—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you stepped forward and gently scooped him up, lifting him effortlessly into your arms in a bridal carry.

Kaveh gasped, his eyes wide with surprise. "What—? Hey, what are you doing?!"

"You’ve been pushing yourself too hard," you said softly, adjusting your hold on him. "It’s time to rest."

For a moment, Kaveh was speechless, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked up at you in disbelief. "I... I didn’t know you were so strong," he said, his voice a little shaky, a mix of admiration and embarrassment.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his weight in your arms. "You’re no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."

Kaveh sighed, but the tension in his body melted away as he leaned against you. "I suppose I should be grateful," he muttered, his usual prideful demeanor softening. "But don’t get used to this, alright? I’m perfectly capable of walking."

"Sure, sure," you replied, a teasing smile on your face as you walked with him, giving him the rest he desperately needed.

[peaxhxhair]

Raising Kids with them - Overwatch Heroes

Featuring: Cassidy, Mercy, Moira, Roadhog, Junker Queen Warnings: Moira. A/n: this isn't exactly the official setting for each character - but this is fanfiction so we're gonna ignore it lol Navigation Overwatch - MASTERLIST Consider becoming a member! <3

Odessa Stone (Junker Queen)

She wouldn't be into having kids at first - thinking that something so small would make her weak.

It does - but she refuses to admit it.

You both decided adoption was probably the best option - adopting a sweet baby girl.

I think Dez would be all about teaching her kids to fight.

Even before they've learnt to walk.

"C'mon kiddo! I was fighting at your age!"

Sometimes you would find her playing with your baby - making it look as if they were both boxing.

It was quite a funny sight.

You'll come home from work and find them watching wrestling or something.

Probably swears around your kid.

Your babies first word is probably 'cunt' or 'fuck'

You're usually the one to take your daughter to school, but on the off chance Dez does - the rest of the parents are scared of her.

The kids adore her though.

She'll struggle doing stuff like diaper changes at first - as anyone would

~~~

As your daughter gets older - she grows into a mini version of Dez.

She wont call her 'mom' - instead calling her something silly like 'cunt' or 'fuckwit'

Dez gets a real kick out of it - and does the same.

Dez would be a little disappointed if your kid didn't want to fight, though she'd still be supportive - even if she didn't really understand.

Cries on your daughters wedding day - but tries to hide it.

"I'm not crying cunt, you're crying"

Mako Rutledge (Roadhog)

I think Mako would be really good with kids-

Big brooding dad & cute tiny daughter combo type vibe

Maybe she's really talkative, and he just listens.

He'd let her put clips in his hair and paint his nails.

It's giving Gru when his girls are doing ballet.

He's always the one to hold the kids when needed - since he barely has any issue.

His hands are just so big.

Even if you had like - 4 kids he would have no trouble carrying them all.

You were grateful that you could have some time alone sometimes, as Mako is a very competent father.

'crane's hand back while driving when kid opens snack' dad

Your kid might pretend to wear his shoes - and they can barely even stand properly in them, let alone walk.

Moira O'Deorain 

Does not want kids.

Only agreed because you would make a face at her whenever you saw a baby.

test-tube baby fr

Literally will not go to another doctor about her kids health.

Does she know anything about kids? No.

Does she think she knows more than the QUALIFIED children's doctors? Absolutely she does.

MIGHT agree to taking your kid to see Angela - if you're not too keen on her doing science on your kid.

HATES being called mom.

She's fine with your kid just calling her by her name.

This was weird on the first day of school - most parents thinking your kids other parent wasn't in the picture.

She was fine with that idea - meaning that you 'left' your old partner for her. Narcissist.

~~~

Your babies first word was definitely her name.

but in the cute baby way.

'Moiwa'

When your kid gets a little older, maybe they'll ask about Moira's arm.

"This is what happens when you smoke"

Your kid will never even THINK about smoking ever again.

It isn't until they're 30 that they realise that wasn't true.

Prefers to keep her kids away from science - as much as it was important to her.

She'll barely talk to you about it either - which may be hard if you're also a part of Talon.

Having to bring your kids to work with you is definitely SOMETHING.

You'd prefer for them to be with you rather than with Moira, though.

Your kids are NOSY, so you have to bend the truth a little bit.

Just to make sure they don't view their mom as the ruthless geneticist that she ACTUALLY is.

"Why is miss Amelie blue?"

"She didn't eat her vegetables"

Angela Ziegler (Mercy)

BIG on consistent check-ups.

Sometimes she'll do them herself, but she prefers the professionals.

She doesn't specialise in child care, but she does make sure that your child is going to the best doctor in the field.

Definitely enjoys shopping for baby clothes.

Works with baby on lap - letting the little guy play with her fingers.

Aeroplane noises while getting the baby to eat.

does NOT let the kid eat candy until they're like 10.

This was hard for you - because it meant you couldn't have candy in the house.

Secret stash of sweets hidden somewhere in your car.

One in Overwatch HQ too.

ALWAYS prepared.

Baby needs a snack? She's got cut up grapes in her bag.

Always has wipes and diapers.

"Hey babe? Where's their bottle?" She's already retrieved it from the drying rack.

Tiny first-aid kid in her bag at ALL times.

~~~

If your kid wants their ears pierced at Claire's. ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Angela is panicked at any idea of infections - especially when it comes to your kid.

Your kiddo is made to wear clip on earrings until they qualify to be pierced by a professional.

Will always make sure places are baby safe before you take your kid there.

~~~

She's calm 90% of the time - she just cares about general safety and health.

Matching onesies with your kid.

Chilli and Bingo core :)

Angela would LOVE doing Halloween costumes for your kiddo.

They're always so CUTE.

If she has the time, she'll put together matching family ones.

Cole Cassidy

Baby carrier dad.

Like he'll just carry your baby everywhere.

Gets upset when he has to put the little guy down.

"We're just fine over here. No need to pull us apart"

Your child definitely prefers him to you - which you're fine with.

It's just so cute seeing them play together.

I'd say he's a girl dad - the type to teach her how to shoot, or play football with.

9 times out of ten, he'll fall asleep while reading her a bedtime story, so he always just ends up sleeping in your daughters bed with her.

The two of them cuddled up on the tiny mattress - he's holding your little girl so protectively.

~~~

The moms at the nursery you take your daughter to all think Cole is hot.

Too right.

They just need to learn to keep their hands to themselves.

Your kid is very protective of him - and your relationship.

If you're married, she'll be like;

"Daddy, show her your wedding ring!! Isn't it nice?"

It makes Cole chuckle every time.

Cole didn't even need to shut the women down - your kid was doing all the work for him.

~~~

Definitely the dad that all of your kids friends like

"Your dad is so cool!"

He's always invited to their little tea parties and stuff.

Yes, he will put on the crown and princess dress.

[saphiccarma]

Can you make a plot where fem!reader is in a relationship with Rio and Agatha, and throughout all these centuries, when Agatha and Rio were at odds after Nicholas's death, reader tries to support both of them, and tries to bring them together so that everything would be as before? And like, then we get to the end of the show, and reader can't stand watching her two loves fight all the time. Especially if Agatha might die. So the reader sort of sacrifices herself, allowing Rio to take her body instead of Billy's or Agatha's, even though both Agatha and Rio beg her very hard not to do this.

- Two sides, same coin

Relationships: Agatha Harkeness x Reader, Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: After Nicky, it was never the same. Both of your lovers were at odds, and finally you had enough.

Warnings: Major Character death, angst, kissing.

Agatha was smiling wickedly as power surged through her. You frowned slightly, upset at the way she seemed content with killing people, but you had grown used to it over the years. Nicky had broken her, and you were doing your best to pick up the pieces, but she tried to push you away with all the death. Considering you were also seeing Death; it was hard to scare you off using it.

"Feel better?" You raised a brow as she snapped her gaze towards you, totally unaware you had been standing there. Leaning against a tree with your arms crossed, you pushed off, making your way towards her. You were grateful to stop leaning against the harsh material.

The minute you were close enough Agatha pulled you in for a harsh kiss, her lips claiming yours and hands roaming over your body. You gasped into her mouth and she only deepened it further, her tongue exploring your mouth, her touch hungry and need apparent.  

"Now that you're here," her lips moved down your neck as she whispered the words.

As much as you loved her, you knew where this would head if you didn't stop it, and currently the two of you were in the middle of a field with the ankle high grass gently swaying against your skin. Gently, you cupped her face and brought it so that she was eye-level with you.

"I like this," you hummed, and clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth, "But maybe not right now?"

Pointedly, you glanced at your surroundings. Anyone could stumble upon the two of you at any moment. Not only the two of you, but also the half a dozen bodies that laid, pale and wrinkled on the floor. Agatha grumbled but took settled her hands on her lips and pecked your lips gently.

"I missed you," she mumbled, pout evident in her tone.

You smiled at her, "I missed you too."

Some days, Agatha was closed off. She wanted nothing to do with you on those days, always trying to scare you off and act as if it was normal for her to be like that. Those were the times where you just had to ride it out, be there for her with soft assurances and patient smiles.

Other days, like this one, Agatha was a bit softer. There was still her usual roughness, that was how she showed affection, but she accepted your warmth with a smile. These days were your favorite.

Agatha's thumbs rubbed soft circles onto your hips, and she bit her lip. Patiently, you waited for whatever she had to say. Eventually, her head fell to rest on yours, her eyes meeting yours and only now did you realize they were filled with tears.

You cooed softly, a sound that made her crinkle her nose slightly, but you pressed a soft kiss to her nose.

"What's wrong?"

Agatha scowled, but not in an angry way, more so in an 'I'm upset and don't know how/want to tell you.' It was a look you were familiar with.

"I miss him," she whispered quietly, pain lacing her words as she sniffled slightly, "He- I want him back. She had no right to take him."

You sighed - Rio had every right. It was her job; it was the only reason that Rio was born. Deep down, Agatha knew that, but she didn't want to accept that her son was fated to die from the start. There was nothing she could do to save him. You always struggled to come up with a good response when Agatha said something like that.

"I know," is what you settled on, "I know."

"I want him back," she repeated, her icy blue eyes were filled with tears and yet not one fell. You don't think Agatha has shed a tear since the day Nicholas died. Not once.

You swallowed thickly and rubbed your thumbs over her sharp cheekbones - she hadn't been eating much lately and that made them all the more prominent - and offered a sad smile. Moving your arms down, you pulled her into a hug. She clutched the fabric of your dress tightly and buried her head in your neck with a small sniffle.

Surrounded by bodies, knowing Rio would show up soon, you held onto Agatha, letting her relax in your arms. It was easy to ignore the bodies littered around you, knowing their souls would be collected soon. Besides, all that mattered at that moment was Agatha.

^____________^

You lounged casually on the couch, twirling a flower between your fingers as you stared at the ceiling. Rio sat in a chair, scribbling on a piece of paper, and growling in frustration when whatever she was working on didn't work. Once again, she crumpled the piece of paper in her hands and tossed it away, joining the pile.

"At this rate you're going to go through all my paper," you remarked. The flower in your finger wrinkled slightly and you glared at Rio. It was probably unintentional, but it was her flower, so her emotions were probably affecting it.

Rio didn't glance at you as she muttered, "Shut up."

She grabbed another piece of paper, setting it in front of her with more force than necessary. You snorted a small laugh, and she glanced at you with a raised brow.

"That's not what you were saying last night."

Rio sighed at that and rolled her eyes, but you could see a small smirk curling at the corners of her lips and amusement glittering in her eyes.

"Do you need something?"

"You're in my house," you reminded her, "Using up all of my paper."

Almost guiltily, Rio glanced at the pile of paper that had completely missed the trashcan she was aiming for, but she didn't say sorry. Instead, she just sighed, stood from her chair, and walked over to you. She plopped down right on top of you, straddling your hips with a wicked grin. You pretended to be crushed under her weight, gasping dramatically.

"You don't mind," she said lowly, leaning down, "You like it when I visit."

You couldn't deny that "Only when I know what you're working on." At that, Rio bit her lip, looking away. Sighing, you tapped her cheek and brought her eyes back to yours. "I'm only kidding, you don't have to tell me."

"You're insufferable," she muttered, getting closer until her lips were pressed against yours.

"So are you," you countered when she pulled away.

Rio smirked wickedly, "You love me."

Her lips crashed back onto yours and you melted into her touch.

^_________________^

You played with Agatha’s fingers, twisting them together with your own and pulling at them softly. It kept you pacified as you tried to formulate the words you wanted to say.

“I invited Rio over,” you whispered softly. Her shoulder stiffened from where you rested against it, and she exhaled sharply.

“You what?”

Her words were dripping with a warning, a silent threat that she would try and rip Rio’s throat out the moment she showed up.

“I invited Rio over,” you repeated slowly, firmly. It had been years, hundreds of them, since both of your lovers had been together. You wanted nothing more than for it to be like before. You wanted to spend the evenings curled between them as you watched the sun set. To present freshly baked bread to them when they returned from whatever they were doing during the day.

Agatha stood abruptly, turning and storming out without a word. You sat on the floor, staring at your hands as silence encompassed the room. Tears filled your eyes and you felt something wet trickle down your cheek.

You were stupid for believing that Agatha would have forgiven Rio – It had been forever and you were fucking sick of playing both sides.

There was a flash, and you hastily wiped away your tears with the back of your sleeve, painting a coy smile onto your smile as Rio appeared. She carried a bouquet of flowers, purple azaleas and other assortments of purple flowers. Your heart warmed.

The other woman glanced around, her eyes completely skipping over you, “Is she here?”

You shook your head with a sigh. Rio nodded sadly, dropping her flowers onto the desk behind her and marching towards you. She took your face into her hands and kissed you roughly. You let out a muffled squeak as she pushed you back until you hit the wall.

“At least I have you,” she murmured against your skin, her hands roaming over your body. You tried to let her distract you from the lingering pain in your heart.

^________________^

"Enough!" You screamed, magic blasting from your fingertips as you threw your lovers back. Agatha crashed into the fence and Rio fell into the house. A flicker of guilt passed through you, but you hardly noticed it, too focused on getting them to stop fighting, "Stop it, both of you."

You used your magic to bind Agatha, keeping her tied up and unable to move, and walked over to Rio.

"Take me, if you need a soul so badly, take mine."

It could work like that; you knew it could. That was how long Nicky lived, Rio took souls in exchange for his. Rio blinked up at you, unsure and concerned.

"Darling, I know you want to be with me forever, but this is really not that way to do it."

You shrugged, uncaring for her term of endearment. When you sensed Agatha stop struggling, you let her free. She wasted no time grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you to face her.

"Don't," She whispered harshly, "I can't lose you too."

Licking your lips, you smiled at her softly, "You won't be losing me, you'll see me again." She leaned into your touch as you held her face between your hands, "I can't stand to see you two fight, all these years. I love you both oh so very much and it hurt me to see you fight."

A brief expression of guilt crossed Agatha's face and tears filled her eyes. You pulled her in for a kiss, pressing your lips onto hers for one last time. It took her a second, but Agatha reincorporated it, kissing you back harshly and pulling you in closer by your hips. You whined at the bruising grip she had. Not that you minded.

"I'll see you again," you whispered once she pulled away, breathless.

Agatha shook her head, desperate, but there was nothing she could do when you removed yourself from your grip and turned to face Rio. The woman was standing now, her brow furrowed and lips downturned.

"You don't have to do this," she said, and you could see the underlying concern in her voice, the plead for you not to, "I can hunt down the boy, take him instead."

"I know, but he deserves to live a long life," You turned your head back towards Agatha, "I lived a good life with the two of you. It's my time, not his." And maybe you should have done this years ago when Nicky was alive, but you don't think there was anything you could do to save the son of Death, "Besides, I can see Nicky again."

Pain flickered in Agatha's eyes, but you took Rio's hands in your own. Death herself looked hesitant to do her job. Her brown eyes were wide with trepidation and saw the slightest gleam of tears, just barely noticeable.

"I'll be alright," you told her, "I want this."

Those were the words of confirmation Death needed to do her job, but it was not what Rio wanted to hear. The witch bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. She was so different from the usual snarky Rio who took what she wanted and was constantly teasing you.

"Rio, I'll be with you forever."

She sighed, "But I don't want to take more from her."

Her words were quiet enough that you hardly heard them, even though you had stepped close, and they hit you hard. Rio had lost as much as Agatha. When Agatha lost Nicky, Rio lost both of them in a way. Losing you would mean losing Agatha again. At least in Rio's mind.

"It's not your fault," you said, loud enough for Agatha to hear, "This is my choice. Not yours, you are only doing what I ask of you."

Faintly, you could hear an anguished sound leave Agatha, as if she had realized that it was never Rio's fault all along, but you kept your eyes trained onto Rio. Death herself had a tear trail down her cheek. You reached up, brushing it away with a soft smile. Leaning forward, you pressed the softest kiss to Rio's lips.

Her power surged through you as her fingers found your wrists, feeling your pulse as it slowly dimmed. You felt life leaving you as Rio's energy stole your life force. Shutting your eyes, you welcomed death with open arms, happy with all you had done on earth with your lovers.

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

sleepless nights

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

(REQUEST): Hiii!!! First of all i hope you're doing good🫶🏻 This idea just popped in my mind and I was wondering if you could write it. So sister!reader has trouble falling asleep so brother!jj let her hang out with the pogues for a little while so she'll maybe drift off easier but nuh uh that girl is still being restless then once she's tucked to bed, she keeps calling jj to come and sleep with her, because she only feels safe by his side♡ Thanks you!! I love your account so much mwahh💋

warning(s): N/A

a/n: thank you so much for being my very first request, my dear. i took a few liberties with your prompt but i hope you enjoy it all the same. i am very grateful for your support!

JJ had tried everything.

He'd tried bedtime stories and back rubs, he'd hummed old Disney songs and offered mugs of warm milk. Hell, he'd even tried good old fashioned bribery, promising all the sweets and plushies her tiny heart desired in exchange for a good eight hours of shut-eye—but to no avail.

This kid just would not sleep.

JJ watched dejectedly as Y/N plucked at the strings of Kie's ukulele, curiousity shining in her large eyes. She'd been at it for a few long minutes now, her tongue poking out of her mouth from the sheer intensity of her concentration as she composed a grating, pitchy version of 'music'.

In hindsight, bringing a very lively Y/N around his very wasted group of friends wasn't one of his better ideas, but the blond had grown desperate. Nothing was working—for whatever reason the five-year-old just wouldn't go down. He'd hoped that being around the Pogues would pacify her somehow—that their late night conversations around the fire could serve as a comfort to Y/N's reeling mind—but, unfortunately, lady luck just wasn't on his side tonight.

John B whooped and hollered as Y/N teased her final note, clapping exaggeratedly at her lacklustre performance. "Nice goin', Poguie! You've got some crazy skills." Y/N beamed from where she sat propped up in Kiara's lap.

"Encore!" Pope exclaimed in support, but JJ intervened before the young girl could start in on her next 'song'.

"No. No encores." He put a hand out to stop his sister from assaulting the ukulele any further, motioning that it was time to make her way back to him. The initial agreement of her staying with the Pogues was that she not stray from JJ’s lap, but it hadn’t taken long for that expectation to fly out the window. "It's getting late, Y/N. C'mere."

“Just a little longer, JJ, please?”

“We passed ‘a little longer’ fifteen minutes ago.”

Y/N pouted, slumping back into Kie's arms. “But Jay—"

"Now, Y/N. I'm not playing anymore." Y/N huffed. She knew not to fight with her brother when he got that severe edge to his voice, even though she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her night treating the Pogues to their very own VIP concert.

The young girl shuffled over to her big brother with a sour face, sinking into his arms without a fuss. She could tell that JJ was annoyed with her—he'd been too busy dealing with Y/N to have had the privilege of drinking, and without the alcohol to boost it, every minute he spent awake further weighed on his mood.

"Boooo!" Kie heckled. "You're such a party pooper, JJ."

"Big papa's mad," John B continued, earning a chorus of drunken laughter from the rest of the Pogues. JJ only rolled his eyes, adjusting himself so that Y/N could reluctantly rest her head on his chest.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up JB. See what happens the next time you need me to fix the Twinkie's engine." John B only pouted in response.

"Oh, come on, dude! You wouldn't let the ole girl die now, would you?" JJ cracked a smirk.

"Keep laughin' and y'all are gonna find out."

Y/N felt her eyelids growing heavier as she listened to the Pogues lose themselves in rapid-fire banter and shoulder-shaking laughter, the warmth of the fire caressing her back. She found comfort in the way her brother's stomach would tremble with the occasional chuckle, breathing in sync with the steady beating of his heart.

She'd spent the past twenty minutes playing with JJ's fingers, spinning the rings on his digits as he spoke, and the boy looked down at his sister with a smile when her hands eventually fell limp against his palm.

"Close your eyes, peanut," he whispered, though she might as well have been asleep already. Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, clearly losing the battle she'd been fighting with sleep. "I've got you."

"Mm-mm," She mumbled, burying her head in JJ's t-shirt. He couldn't help but smile despite her defiance. Whether or not the Y/N was being difficult, she was pretty damned cute. "I wan’ stay up."

"I promise you're not missin' much, kid. Pope's jokes really aren't that funny."

"Hey!" The boy interjected, having now abandoned whichever one of Kie’s stories he'd been enthralled in only seconds before. From what JJ had gathered, it had something to do with Rafe Cameron and a golf buggie.

Y/N joined in with the Pogues as they mocked Pope’s now wounded ego, emitting quiet giggles that just barely stifled a yawn. JJ sighed. Though it was a pain, he would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed with Y/N’s determination to stay conscious. "How 'bout we get you to bed now, hm?"

"No," Y/N persisted, fighting not to shut her tired eyes. "I wanna stay with you."

The older boy patted his baby sister's back, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head. "How about this, kiddo. If you promise to shut your eyes and keep 'em closed, you can stay right here. That sound good?"

He barely had to tell her, it seemed, because Y/N's small body had gone limp against him before the words had finished leaving his mouth. JJ chuckled lightly, brushing a few hairs away from her now closed eyes.

"Finally," He breathed, kissing her head once more as he wrapped Y/N in a protective embrace. It had taken four long hours, but the small girl had finally given in to rest. "Y'all better quiet down. If Y/N wakes up it's on your goddamned heads."

"I don't think she's waking up anytime soon, Jay," Kie chuckled. She was right, JJ thought—Y/N would be having one Hell of a late morning tomorrow.

"Gotta hand it to her, though. Kid put up a good fight," John B said, raising his drink and saluding to Y/N before taking another swig of beer. “She’s one Hell of a Pogue if I’ve ever seen one.”

“You gonna bring her in?” Pope asked, and JJ considered it for a moment before shaking his head.

“Nah, man.”

He watched attentively as Y/N’s chest rose and fell with steady breaths, her small hand fisting a handful of his shirt. It warmed his heart to know that through all of her fussing and restlessness, all Y/N had really wanted was to stay by his side.

In that moment, JJ swore to never let her go.

“I think she’s good where she’s at.”

[tellingtell5]

Stand by me, part 2. 《Invincible, Mark Grayson 》

IIt seems that in the end, it's not such a short story about multiple Invincibles, a bunch of Mark Graysons.

A/N: Sorry for this. I don’t know where it’s going, but I hope it continues. I have some ideas for Olive trapped with so many versions of Mark. Let me know what yours are! (choose your fighter) Thanks for the support.

P.S.: I love the mohawk Mark, that kinky bastard owns my heart.

Pat 1., part 3

Mark Grayson x oc!fmale

"Are you sure about this?"

Mark rested his forehead against hers, and despite the devastation surrounding them, she couldn't imagine a place she’d rather be. She nodded, their skin brushing.

"I think right now I'm the safest person in the entire universe."

Mark let out a low laugh against her skin, shaking his head. The truth was, she had a point. A handful of versions of himself were willing to destroy entire realities just to get her. A strange, gut-deep tug hit him—the same one he’d felt the day Rex had sparred with Liv and made her laugh the entire time. He wasn't the jealous type. Olive always told him how cool it was to have a boyfriend so secure in himself. But this... this made him feel exposed. Especially when she looked at him like she held his entire world in her hands.

He kissed her slowly, deliberately, like time didn’t matter, like the universe wasn’t burning around them.

"Hey, Mark. You're the only one. Okay?"

He pulled back, a little stunned by how easily she read him. Then again, he could usually read her just as well.

"There is nothing, in this world or any other, that they could offer me that would make me go with one of those freaks. I’ll mess with them, keep them busy. And when I’m done, I’ll help you with Armstrong."

She made it sound so simple. And while the knot in his chest loosened slightly, he couldn't shake it completely. Those versions of him might have turned out differently, but their Olives had still fallen for them. So they had to share something... and that scared the hell out of him.

"Go wreck that asshole. Show him not to mess with our dimension."

She gave him a quick kiss and brushed his cheek.

"God, Liv, I lo—"

"No. Don’t you dare. Don’t say it. It might sound like a goodbye. Just finish this, make him send all your psycho copies back to their realities, and then come home to me. I’ll let you finish what you couldn’t earlier."

How immoral would it be to just ditch the mission and run off to a cabin in the woods with Olive forever? Probably very. So with a grunted nod, he tore himself away from her and launched into the sky, heading toward the villain waiting for him. He didn’t look back. If he did, he might not have had the strength to leave.

When she reached the others, Olive froze.

They were... talking. Civilly. Arguing, maybe, but not fighting. They hadn’t noticed her floating above them, so she allowed herself a moment to eavesdrop.

"...so the quadrant would look like this," said one of them, holding up a color-coded chart. Where the hell had he gotten markers and paper? Was this why they hadn’t chased her? Because they were splitting her up like she was some class hamster?

"Why do I only get 10 days?" asked one of the Marks—the one without goggles, the one who’d tried to kill her.

"Be grateful you get anything. You tried to murder her. You’re batshit. And that’s saying something, considering the rest of us."

"Speak for yourself," muttered the dark-suited Invincible, voice heavy with regret.

Maybe she didn’t need to distract them. They were doing that all by themselves. She felt a flicker of amusement. This was such a Mark thing—arguing instead of doing.

"You’re one to talk. You have mommy issues."

"What? Liking mom doesn’t mean I like her like that."

"Sure. Good for you. You didn’t kill Debbie. Gold star."

Another Mark, one with a mustache far too close to Nolan’s, raised his voice.

"I refuse to share Olive. What if she gets pregnant? I’m not letting any of you near her."

Silence.

"Whoa there, stud. Nobody's knocking her up."

She realized there were more of them now. Had they called a meeting? Christ. She was starting to understand how dangerous Mark could be if he ever snapped. But not her Mark. He always tried to do the right thing. He was trying now.

"What if..." said the one with the mohawk, clearly teeing up something awful, "we all shared her. At once."

Another silence.

"Come on, I can’t be the only one who's thought about hooking up with himself. Imagine it. A threesome... or more. She's strong. Maybe she can handle a few of us at once."

Yup. There it was. The Mark with every single one of his perversions turned up to eleven. Her body betrayed her, a rush of heat pooling low in her stomach. Focus. They're not him. They're sociopaths. Jesus, Liv, get a grip.

"You're disgusting," said Omni-Invincible, glaring.

"And you're a prude. I saw you adjusting your little package earlier, repressed freak."

He got punched in the face, hard. He laughed like that proved his point.

"You’re all losers," said the Caped Invincible. "You’re missing something important. She’s gone. She left with this world’s Mark. No Olive, no schedule."

Everyone went still. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"That’s not a problem. She’s right there. Been listening for a while."

They all turned at once. She flinched.

"Why didn’t you say anything, dumbass?"

He shrugged.

"Dunno. Thought it was funny. Let her hear how stupid you all sound. Thanks for softening the ground."

He flew toward her, wrapped an arm around her waist. Too confident. Olive froze.

"Let’s go, babe. Let’s find Armstrong and go home."

She never thought Mark's touch could feel like molten lava. She felt sick just being near him. But she forced a smile, resting her head on his shoulder, laughing like an idiot.

"Yeah. Though you seem a little dumber than my Olive. Nothing time won’t fix."

Her blood boiled.

"Guys," she called sweetly, and all their rage focused back on her. "I think I want to change the quadrant. I’ll stick with this Mark. He seems the strongest, don’t you think?"

She had a plan. She just didn’t know if they’d fall for it again. Before she could second guess herself, the veiled Invincible shot out and tackled the pretender, knocking her loose.

Hands caught her shoulders.

"You okay?"

Dark Mark, he always sounded so worried. She hated what she was about to do to him, but she had no choice. She lifted her knee to drive it into his chest—but a blue-and-black blur beat her to it, fists flying.

"Don’t touch her like that. Your turn isn’t for six months, asshole."

The mohawk Mark. He looked at her.

"Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Liv. Pitting us against each other so we’ll do your dirty work. Smart."

He turned back and clapped his hands on either side of his target’s skull, knocking him cold.

"I don’t give a shit. I’d kill all of them if you asked me to."

There it was again. That low ache. How could she explain to her body that this wasn't her Mark? His eyes darkened.

"You like it when I talk dirty, don’t you, Liv?"

She was about to clock him when a muscle-bound prison wrapped around her. She looked over her shoulder and saw a Viltrumite-suited Mark. Damn it. That suit looked good on him.

They soared upward. She started to fight, but he held her tighter.

"No, Liv, stop." There was urgency in his voice—not anger. It wasn’t even a command, more like a plea. "Don’t do this."

When he rested his head on her shoulder and pulled himself closer, she understood what he meant. He wasn't even trying to hold her back anymore, like he’d forgotten what he came here to do. His mind was hazy, his purpose blurred. A soft gasp escaped her as he leaned fully into her, deliberately rubing against her.

"I missed you so much." Her legs trembled, and if they hadn’t been floating midair—if Mark hadn’t been holding her like his life depended on it—she might’ve collapsed. Then she felt it—a warm lick at her neck, followed by a desperate, satisfied moan.

"Fuck... you smell like me, Liv."

Of course she did. Just a couple hours ago, she’d been in this same position—with her Mark. Her Mark. She had to force her body to understand that this familiar weight, this comforting heat, wasn’t him. Her body resisted the truth. This felt like everything that was right in the world. Her hips moved on their own, and she cursed herself for it.

"I can’t wait to get home. I’m gonna give you a baby—and you’re gonna thank me for it."

Something snapped in her mind. Holy shit—she had to get him off of her.

She tensed, pressing her forehead against Mark’s, the one still buried in her neck. Then she started pushing upward with her shoulder, using all her strength. At first, the Viltrumite Mark didn’t register what was happening—but when he did, it was too late. Olive heard the sickening crunch of bone and a groan of pain. She didn’t stop. Not until his grip loosened.

She pulled away, watching him stagger, blood pouring from his ears and eyes. She hadn’t killed him, but she’d definitely given him a concussion—his eyes rolled back and he started to fall.

She hovered in place, catching her breath, when another Invincible found her.

"Finally. There you are. Damn, you really stirred up a mess down there. They’re tearing each other apart over you, you know that?"

A shiver ran down her spine. It was the Mark without goggles—the one who’d actually tried to kill her.

"Seems like I’m in high demand, huh?" She tried to gauge his angle.

"You are. You're the only Olive still alive. In every universe... you’re dead."

He floated toward her slowly, like a cat playing with its prey.

"How did your Olive die, Mark?"

She braced herself for cruelty, for a fight.

"Debris killed you while I tried to protect you from my dad."

Her heart clenched at the sorrow in his voice—but then he laughed. That bastard started laughing.

"You believed that? You’ve always been so naive. I killed you, Liv. In my dimension, you had powers too. Didn’t hold up quite as well as you’re doing here. And guess what? The mohawk idiot’s not the only one turned on by how strong you are."

He was insane. Before he could touch her, the caped Invincible tackled him mid-air, knees slamming into his back, sending him crashing like a wounded bird.

"That asshole shouldn’t even be in this quadrant," he muttered to himself. This one seemed more sane, but something dangerous shimmered beneath the surface.

"Hi, Olive."

She raised a trembling hand and waved awkwardly. He gave her a crooked smile.

"You’re coming with me. We’ve got things to do."

"Like what, exactly?"

He scoffed.

"Conquer the universe. You’ve got a throne waiting beside mine. We’ll wipe out every pathetic insect in our way, and then we’ll keep going until it’s just you and me."

Her jaw dropped. She’d been wrong—he was the worst. Or at least the creepiest.

"Yeah, I think I’ll pass."

"That wasn’t a request, sweetheart."

He lunged—but she punched him square in the jaw, sending him flying. She used the moment of confusion to bolt. She picked up speed—until a voice stopped her cold.

"OLIVE!"

The pain in the cry struck something deep in her. That wasn’t Mark—but it was Mark.

She approached cautiously, hovering a few feet away from a bloodied Mark. His nose was gushing, shirt ripped open to a jacket. He was sobbing.

"Liv, please... help me. It hurts."

Tears welled in her eyes. Seeing him like this—it hurt like hell. She’d smashed a few of them without flinching. But this Mark? There was something heartbreakingly human in his eyes. She knew it was a trick. Still, she knelt beside him, hand brushing his cheek. He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes.

"You always been this dumb?"

Her brows furrowed. When he opened his eyes, they sparkled with cruelty. She knew it—but didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. She was about to ask what he meant when he grabbed her wrist and yanked her skyward. She screamed—then saw the mohawk Mark.

"Thanks, dude! I owe you one."

"You said we’d share!" the bloodied Mark yelled from below like a child.

"Yeah, well. I changed my mind." He shrugged, grinning.

Olive thrashed again, yanking her arm like she could tear it off. Pain ripped through her shoulder—it dislocated, and nausea hit hard. She went pale. Then they stopped midair.

"No self-mutilation," he warned, concern flickering through the twisted look in his eyes. None of them had really tried to hurt her. Just keep her. Except the psycho without goggles.

He floated closer, gripping her injured arm.

"Not into that kind of pain, babe. Deep breath. This’ll suck."

A sharp twist—pop. Her bones reset. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, tears falling as she trembled. She nearly passed out, but the pervy Mark held her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head.

"Got you, Liv," he whispered. And this time, he sounded... hurt.

She cried into his neck, exhausted. Fighting Mark—any version of him—was killing her. Even twisted, deranged, or dangerous, he was still Mark.

She noticed the mohawk one was still holding her. Around them, other Invincibles had regrouped—bruised, bloodied, but all visibly concerned.

"Is she okay?" asked the veiled one, reaching out.

The grip around her tightened protectively

"Can’t you see it, you idiot?"

"What the hell did you do to her? I thought the only one we had to worry about was the maniac without the goggles."

The one with the mohawk tensed. "I didn’t do anything to her. I don’t even think it’s physical, you emotionally stunted morons."

Olive sobbed again, burying her face into the crook of his neck, trying—failing—to let his scent calm her. Because this wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to be villains. Predictable. Easy to hate. She hadn’t expected to see in each of them some warped echo of her Mark.

"Olive, what do we do to make you stop crying?"

She pulled back from the Mark holding her and looked at them, one by one.

"For starters, maybe you shouldn’t have destroyed my entire world."

"Come on, Liv. They were insignificant, they were just hum—"

"Enough. They weren’t insignificant. None of them were. They had lives. They mattered. I’m human. Don’t I matter too?"

"You were the only thing that made that miserable planet worth anything," said the Viltrumite Mark, his voice slower now. Her words hit him harder than she'd meant them to.

"Then make up your minds. Either you’re merciless world-killers or there's still a shred of something left in your broken hearts. Because you can’t love me and destroy me at the same time. You wipe out everything I care about, you wipe out me too."

Her breathing was ragged, like she’d just sprinted through a war zone.

They went silent, glancing at each other, lost. One opened his mouth to respond—but a green light cut him off.

Olive turned to find Angstrom. Furious.

The Mohawk Mark immediately stepped between them, shielding her from Angstrom’s burning gaze.

"So that’s why you haven’t finished the job. You found her. You’re even dumber than I thought."

Olive stepped forward, fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t hit him. Not yet. Not until she knew her Mark was okay. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other Invincibles take up positions behind her. For once, not against her.

And for the first time, she felt powerful.

"Where’s Mark?"

"Greedy little thing. You’ve got a whole crew of him right behind you and still want more. Want all of them, huh?"

She glared at him. "There’s only one I care about, Angstrom."

She heard a few murmurs behind her. She didn’t give a damn.

"He’s busy. Fighting for his life in another dimension. Hopefully losing."

She wanted to beat Angstrom into the ground. Not metaphorically. Fist to face, over and over.

"Look at yourself. Just as unhinged as the rest of them. But you know that, don’t you? Afraid your precious Mark might see how rotten you really are inside?"

"What?"

"You choose him. Every time. Always by his side." His face twisted with rage. She flinched as if he’d slapped her. "You abandon your entire species for an unstoppable psychopath. What does that say about you?"

She couldn’t speak. Dread filled her lungs like concrete. Because he was right. She would choose Mark. In this life, in any other.

"Hey, ease off the psychological warfare," said the one with the cape—the one who’d seemed the most threatening at first. He stepped in front of her too. "We had a deal. If you break her, there won’t be anything left for us."

"Yeah, send us back to our timelines already, or we’ll end this right here."

"Idiots. If we kill him, how do we leave this dump with Olive?"

"What if we just torture him?"

"That works for me." Nods all around. They didn’t see it coming.

"Wait, no—"

"Yeah, Olive. We’ll be good. We’ll redeem ourselves. But first, we’re dealing with him."

"That’s not what I—"

Too late. Dozens of portals opened behind each Invincible. Drones appeared in front of every one of them and shoved them through the dimensional rifts. Olive gasped as a broad back slammed into her, dragging her through as well.

When she came to, eyes were all around her. Watching. She tried to sit up, groaning. Voices floated above her.

"...this damn place."

"At least we got Olive."

They all turned to look down at her.

Please be a concussion dream.

"What...?"

"Liv, welcome to the ass end of existence. You’re stuck in the interdimensional dump. Lucky for you... you’re stuck here with us."

No. No, no, no.

A chill tore through her as she looked around—a wasteland. Her breath came shallow. stretched a scorched desert. Nothing but dead wind and sunburned rock. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Could she fight them off forever?

No.

"Well... guess we’ll have to kill time somehow, huh?" said the Mohawk one, eyes darkening.

"What did the quadrant say again?"

Shit.

"Hey! Weren’t we talking about redemption? About being good boys?"

Smirks crept across every single face.

"How about you call us good boys for something else, Olive?"

The world collapsed around her. She was trapped. Trapped with a thousand versions of her boyfriend—all broken in different ways. All with the libido of a supernova.

"Tell us, Olive. Are you just strong... or can you take it, too?"

They began to close in like predators.

Mark, please... find a way out of here.

[merchelsea]

sacrifice - lando norris

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: you and lando have a long distance relationship due to your hard work. you rarely have free time to attend to his races, the only one you actually attend every year is monaco's. you understand things will have to change when lando gets into a crash and that makes you want to be there with him at everytimes.

author’s note: i hate making myself go through this.

word count:

warnings: lets pretend lando crashed duriung the interlagos gp, not the LA one, for the sake of the plot :)

"hey, babe!" you mumbled as you stirred from your nap. originally meant for a quick rest before the race, it turned into a marathon of sleep that spanned the entire duration of the race. checking the timing, you muttered, "shit."

"were you asleep?" he chuckled.

"yeah... I'm sorry babe. I was just trying to catch up on some sleep debt before the race. I am just tired..." you explained with a low rumble. lando always had a away of understanding things. "anyways, how did it go?"

"not so well, i am kind of glad that you didn't watch it, you would've freak out unnecessarely." he sighed

"why? what happened?" you sat up, eyes squeezed shut in alarm.

"it was nothing serious, just a crash." he reassured. the word 'crash' froze you, an unsettling feeling settling in your chest. "I'm fine now; I'm at the hospital doing some tests."

you didn't answer him and he immediately sensed your worry, it was your usual reaction whenever he had an incident. it was your own way to deal with stuff. "I'll have to stay here in brazil for some extra days. we don't want to rush things. everything is alright, but still."

"yeah, I know. how are you feeling? any pain? wasit bad? why are you at the hospital? is there anything they're worried about?" your thoughts rushed out, anxiety evident. you wished you could've been there with him, knowing how much he disliked going through hospitalization alone.

"calm down, baby. I'm fine, no pain. they gave me painkillers for my headache," he began, his voice carrying weariness and sadness. "the crash felt horrible from inside the car, but I've seen the footage, and it wasn't that bad. I don't think they're worried about anything specific, just my racing career," he added with a hint of self-deprecating humor.

"shut up. you know those jokes aren't funny, right?" you retorted, hating his tendency for such jokes. "anyways, I miss you so much. you have no idea." placing your phone on the bed, you awaited his response as you searched for your notebook.

"I know babe, I miss you like crazy too. and i won't be able to be home for some more days, as i told you. i hate it." you both sighed. "but it's okay, i'm glad you weren't here this time."

although you felt the honesty in his words, you could also know that it was pure bullshit. he wanted you to be there more that anything, and the fights you two had over the past weeks showed that clearly.

lando felt your support fading away and, as always, he talked about it with you, but there was nothing you could do, you could not just leave your work and follow him around the world.

your life had to come first. you couldn't be financially dependent. you had never wanted that for yourself.

"I love you, lando. you know that, right?"

"i know. I love you too." anuncomfortable silence lingered, more apparent to him than to you, as you were preoccupied with booking a flight to brazil. "look, I have to hang up to do some exams. I'll call you as soon as I can, yeah?"

"yeah, okay. keep me updated, for the love of god." he laughed and silently hang up.

as soon as you were able to, you called your boss, letting her aware of the whole situation, who, understandingly, granted you a week off, more than you needed. grateful, you expressed your thanks in every single way you could.

as you couldn't just fly there without someone knowing, you called lando's dad to let him know that you were going. he was thankful that his son had found someone who cared so much about him, and as so helped you through everything.

you would obviously be staying at lando's room with him, so you didn't need to worry about that, but there were things you actually needed to deal with and that's where he was an absolute angel, taking care of everything for you.

the flight proved to be torturous; sleep eluded you, your mind consumed by worry for your boyfriend, presently hospitalized in a foreign country that held no appeal for him. the inability to communicate with him intensified your anxiety, and the endurance of such a long flight was a challenge unfamiliar to you.

the only thing keeping you focused on trying to sleep was knowing that you'd see lando soon and that you needed to be sane.

once you arrived in brazil, adam had already sent an uber to pick you up and drop you at the hotel. you were eternally grateful for him. your appreciation deepened when, upon entering the hotel, you found everything seamlessly taken care of, allowing you to reach his son without delay.

he drove you there himself, the casual conversation during the car ride centered uiquely around the topic most dear to both of you—lando's health.

every detail adam shared heightened your awareness; lando was okay, but not as well as he should be. the information failed to ease your mind, creating a lingering unease.

after reaching the hospital, the attending doctor informed you that lando was still asleep but encouraged you to enter. you opened the door to his room, and an immediate sense of tranquility washed over you. lando's peaceful slumber tugged at your heartstrings, and the sight of his features made you want to cry; you had missed him so damn much.

you took his hand, staying by his side as he slept. despite your exhaustion, the anticipation of his awakening kept sleep at bay.

lando woke up and confusedly stared at you for five minutes straight. in his head, he was trying to figure out if you were real or if his desperation had just made you up. you squeezed his hand and that seemed to clear his mind. you were in fact there.

"love?" he muttered, scared of being wrong.

"hey baby" you whispered to him, smiling softly.

"you're here? what are you doing here?" he hurriedly sat up, his expression filled with worry, like he wasn´t the one on a hospital bed.

"i'm here to see you." you extended your hand and let it travel through his face. "got the week off, couldn't leave you alone." his smile was priceless. he rushed his arms around your waist, since you were standing now, and pulled you closer to him, head in your belly.

when he told you he had missed you like crazy, he didn't define it well enough.

he locked his lips with yours as soon as he had a chance. you missed that feeling, you missed it too fucking much. you missed everything about him too fucking much, and maybe this misfortune was just what you needed to realize that something had to change. you couldn't miss him like this all the time.

it was literal hell, for the both of you.

adam entered the room after some time and, from his face, you could see he carried good news.

and you were right. "you are free to leave today, all the exams cameback with positive answers. you still have to stay in brazil, of course, a flight so long could jeopardize your health, so you'll have to stay for a bit longer, but you two can go stay at the hotel for tonight.

you and lando celebrate this little "victory" with each other and then you start talking about going home, anticipating what you'd do.

the room was uncharacteristically quiet as he payed attention to the TV and you lost yourself in your own mind.

"I think I might quit my job." you let out with your head layed in his chest. he twists his head to look at you. "what?" he asks, clearly confused, in his head, trying to figure out where all of this was coming from.

yes, it's true that he didn't like to travel around the world every year and leave you behind, and it's also true that this past year, he felt your support fade away, but he didn't want you to leave your life in second place for him. he knew, and understood, how important for you it was to have your financial independence.

he had started to feel guilty, even though this was not his fault.

you thought and rethought about it during your flight, since it was the only thing you could do. of course you never wanted that, but you also couldn't bare the distance anymore, and his accident showed you that.

you wanted to be there, to be able to celebrate every single one of his podiums by his side and not over the phone, you wanted to be able to hold and support him whenever he needed you to do so.

six years into your relationship, neither of you envisioned it ending anytime soon. if it did, you had your savings, but for now, you craved closeness.

"seriously. i want to be with you. i think i never noticed how affected i was by your absence, but i am a lot." you admitted with a sigh. helistened intently. "I want to be able to be with you."

"are you for real?" he asked, concern in his eyes. "I don't want you to feel pressured to do that. I love you whether you're here or on the other side of the world."

"I know, lan. it's not like I would stop working. I just have to find something within my capacities that allows me to travel around the world with you. and it's not like you're going to break up with me, leaving me with nothing. I have my money."

"it's not like I'm gonna break up with you, period." he smirked. "we're a forever thing."

turning you around as if you were as light as a pillow, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I love you," you whispered against his lips.

"I love you too," he whispered back.

[bg-brainrot]

One thing I, personally, can't relate to when discussing BG3 companions: not loving each and every single one of these little weirdos.

Obviously, Astarion's my favorite (gestures at, well, everything on my blog), but I love all of the companions SO much. They're each so unique, so flawed, so painfully relatable.

Now, a quick disclaimer: by all means, these aren't the only or even the best reasons to appreciate these characters, but they're some of my personal favorites!

Some reasons to love them...

Astarion, even against two centuries of torture and trauma, for breaking that cycle of abuse and learning to become his own man.

Gale, despite her reigns on his past, on his power, for going against his goddess's wishes and living on to rectify his mistakes, rather than dying for them.

Karlach, even after everything she's ever done, after finding no catharsis in the act of revenge, for keeping her head, her ax, and her hopes high.

Lae'zel, despite realizing that her entire reason for living is a lie, for fighting on to find new meaning and build a world she'd be proud to fight for.

Shadowheart, even after finding out that her very existence is a lie, for stumbling forth into a new world, one where her devotion is hers to share.

Wyll, despite his deep, undying love for his father, for learning that he needn't sacrifice everything for the ones he loves, he has those who love him in turn.

Halsin, who for all intents and purposes doesn't need to bother with all of this, for caring enough about people, about you, to do whatever he can to help.

Minthara, after being brainwashed, betrayed, destroyed, for ultimately rising from the ashes of herself to follow and support you in anything and everything.

Jaheira, who had all but given up on passing the torch, who after love and loss decided to go out fighting, for trusting you, a kindred spirit to let her rest.

Minsc, with not a single thought behind those eyes, for understanding friendship and loyalty so deeply, that he joins your crew faithfully on Jaheira's words.

It's been a long time since I loved every single one of my companions in a game like this (maybe DA2?), and I'm so weirdly grateful to them for helping me understand myself better.

Anyway, I just think they're all super neat, interesting characters. You definitely don't need to love them all, but I certainly think it's a blast!

[akamitrani]

Pls may you write an oneshort about F!reader treating Art's wounds after the fight with Sienna from Terrifier 3? I'm cravin that so badly rn, I'll leave the plot settings to you, tysmmm 😭😭

— Mercy —

Art the Clown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mention of blood, wounds, struggle, contains spoiler.

Summary: Art is injured and vulnerable. The reader, unknowingly crossing his path, stumbles upon him and makes an unexpected choice.

[A/N: A oneshot, short as requested. Tried making this a slight fluff, hope you like it. Also I must note, in this fic I pretend for a hot minute that he wasn't just slashed in his neck in the movie ☠️ Thank you for your request!]

Bleeding and battered, Art the Clown stumbled away from Sienna's house. His body ached from the fight, but his relentless drive kept him moving, his twisted grin still in place despite the pain.

He didn't look back as he fled into the first path he saw, leaving the chaos of the house behind him.

The alley was dark as he sprang towards it, leaving a trail of blood on the ground. Art staggered forward, his usual grin now marred by pain, clutching his side where Sienna's blade had torn through.

Each step was a struggle, he fought to stay upright as he round the corner, his legs suddenly threatened to give way beneath him and he collapsed against a brick wall for support.

Then, he saw you.

[ · · · ]

The night air was cool as you stepped out of work, tired but eager to head home. As you walked down the quiet street, something caught your eye – a dark, glistening trail on the pavement. Blood?

Curious and hesitant, you followed the trail, someone could be needing help and couldn't just ignore it. It led you to this alleyway. The trail grew thicker as you walked further, the air heavy, an unsettling stillness.

There, slumped against the wall, was the figure of a clown. His white face was twisted with pain, his costume stained with fresh blood. His head lifted slightly at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes locking with yours.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes wide as you recognized him. Art tried to lunge, a feeble attempt to reach you, but his legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees, gasping, his hand outstretched but powerless. He tried to push himself up again but his arms gave out this time, leaving him sprawled on the cold concrete.

You could have run. But instead, something inside you shifted. For a moment he looked almost pitiful, like a wounded animal too stubborn to die. The murderous glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something akin to desperation. Someone did need help, right? – With this in mind you took a step closer, cursing yourself mentally, this is fucking insane.

“If you try anything...” – you whispered to him – “I won’t hesitate.”

For the first time, Art’s grin faded, replaced by a flicker of something else – maybe curiosity? maybe disbelief? – as if he was trying to process the fact that someone, for once, wanted to help him. He simply stared, watching you, as you knelt beside him.

You stared at the wounded clown, every instinct screaming to run, but instead, you pulled a small first aid kit from your bag. Art’s eyes followed your every move, dark and unblinking, as you pressed a cloth to his bleeding side. He flinched but didn’t resist, allowing you to wrap a makeshift bandage around him, surrendering to your mercy.

“There, that should help” – you murmured, your voice unsteady but assuring.

Art’s response was unexpected – a bloodstained finger gently brushed your cheek, leaving a streak of crimson. His touch was surprisingly soft, not the brutal force you had feared.

Your breath caught, the alley around you disappearing as you locked eyes with him. It felt like a silent acknowledgment, a brief moment where he actually seemed grateful.

Pulling his hand away, Art gave a slight nod. It was a gesture so out of character that it left you stunned.

His grin returned and he pushed off of the wall, onto his feet, his movements less sluggish. The blood loss no longer a problem it seems. He glanced at you, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that almost made him seem human.

He reached into the deep, black bag he always carried with him, his fingers brushing against something. Scared he might pull a weapon you step back... to your surprise, he pulls out a single, dark rose. The petals were blackened at the edges, but still, it was a rose – oddly beautiful. With a slow, deliberate motion, he offered it to you, his eyes locking with yours.

You took the flower from him, bewildered by the strange act of kindness. Art’s lips curled into a big smile, the playfulness in his eyes lingering for just a moment before he turned and disappeared into the shadows. No goodbyes.

The night engulfed him whole, leaving you there with the rose and the memory of the clown who, just for a brief moment, had shown something like... tenderness.

Well – somehow, your act of kindness had spared you... At least for tonight.