#he wouldn’t be able to be on screen that often

[peacereturnedtothevalley]

.

[eupheme]

— double the pleasure, triple the fun

[part iii of come on and show me | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.6k

tags: MMF threesome, mutual pining/crushes all around, dirty talk, poly relationship, multi-tasking, the world's worst romantic porposition, oral sex, vaginal fingering, ass play (fingering & rimming), double penetration, creampies, fluff and feelings

a/n: massive thank you to the wonderfully talented @avocado-writing, who kindly beta'd this for me! 💖

“Are you asking me out?” It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. 

It’s you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, “Depends on your answer.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips. A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower. 

“Come on Wilson.” Logan husks, “Let’s get our girl ready.”

(Or, your two becomes three.)

“God, I want him to put a baby in me.”

Wade’s sigh rumbles beneath your ear, where your head cradles against his chest. 

Legs entwined as you stretch out together on the couch - a late-night wind-down after your boyfriend spent the evening picking out his To-Do List at Sister Margaret's.

To kill. Not fuck, apparently. Something he was quick to clarify.

“What are you watching?” Your eyes pull away from your own phone - seventeen chapters into an enemies-to-lovers slow burn you haven’t been able to put down all evening. 

A little stretch, as your head tilts to face him - knuckles propped under your chin, “That video has been looping for like, ten minutes.”

“And yet, still not long enough,” He sighs, flashing the screen at you, “Sir Mix-a-Lot, you never miss.”

The video flickers, a quick and skillful transition of clips - your eyes squinting at the screen from your angle.

“Is that... Logan?”

“Close, baby girl.” His finger boops against your nose, “Huge Ackman.”

There’s a little shake of your head, as your shoulder lifts, “I don’t know who that is.”

“And thank god,” He grins, letting the phone drop onto the cushions. A shift, as his hands dips against the small of your back, “If you did, you would divorce me so fast-“

Your eyes roll, as you bite back a grin, “I wouldn’t.”

“Definitely, maybe.”

Wade grunts as you push yourself with a huff - head dipping to press your lips against his. A low swirl in your belly, as his eyes go soft and his smile goes dopey. 

“I love you, Wade Winston Wilson,” You grin back, “New fake boyfriends and all, apparently.”

He hums, head tilting.

“And what about not-so-fake boyfriends?”

Your brow furrows.

“You are talking about Logan now, right?”

Wade’s knuckles brush your cheek, the humor in his eyes turning searching, “What do you think?”

And what a question it is. 

You’ve talked about it often. The occasional partner had cycled in for a night or two, but there had never been someone that struck you both like Logan had, arriving in your lives like a storm of thunder and lightning.

And you can’t deny that there’s feelings. Obvious ones, apparently, with how you acted in the past. Wade was still teasing you about your jealousy - you never had a handle on that emotion in the way he did. 

That innate knowledge of how he felt about someone, trusted them. Flirting was easy, but you’ve seen the way he looks at Logan, too.

It was different. Special.

“Two musketeers becoming the full set,” He holds his fingers up in front of you, two and then three, “Only unlike them, we’re fucking.”

You let out a sound of dissent, with the lift of a shoulder. 

“Oh, worm?” His brow raises, “Guess Disney wasn’t ready for that, either. Dibs on the religious one, then. I am a man of the cloth.”

“It’s a bad analogy, there’s four of them.”

He chuckles indulgently, “Okay, now I think you’re making things up-“

Now it’s your hand reaching, a finger tapping against his lips.

“I’d like that. I think Logan being our… boyfriend-” The word sends a rush of heat to your face as you stutter over it, Wade’s eyes gleaming.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking cute.” He crows, “We’ve fucked nasty-style and you can’t even say boyfriend-”

Your face buried in his chest, his name a muffled whine. A beat as the laughter still rumbles in his chest, before you peek at him.

“Do you think he wants that, too?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Wade hums, “That man is at least a 6 on the Yearning Richter scale. Felt by all, many frightened.”

You brighten at that prospect - your brain is already slipping ahead, “Do you think we should like, plan something? Ask him together?”

“Oh, don’t worry, gorgeous.” Wade grins.

“I’ll handle it.”

It's strange, seeing Logan in your space.

A good strange. A strange that feels nice - the subtle sweep of his eyes, as he takes in your apartment. The bag slung over his shoulder already tucked in your room, set on the ottoman at the foot of your bed.

He fits in, you think. Tucked into your couch as you put the finishing touches on dinner. Too used to being in their shared space at Wade’s. Of stolen moments when Althea was out. Hushed moments when she was home, muffled moans and bitten-back sighs.  

It will be nice to be able to take your time. 

They had arrived together, and there had been a certain thrill to that, too. 

Wade's knock that mimics the opening beats of "Smooth", before the door burst open. Funny to think about them crammed in a car together - they took Althea's, Wade tells you, when you later asked if they'd walked.

How he was already turning to you to referee, as you tip your head to kiss his cheek. 

"All I'm asking is if we're both sheathing our swords in the same scabbard, then why is he getting his panties in a twist about me putting my clothes in his bag?"

"Ignore him, sweetheart," Logan softens, leaning into the matching kiss you press against his jaw, "Been doing that for the last two months. It's good to see you."

And it is. Good to see both of them, something warm glowing bright in your chest.

The round table that always felt a little big for two feels perfect now - tucking between each other as dinner passes in a warm jumble of savory aromas and comfortable conversation. 

Smiling at the way they're both as engaged with your stories about your day, as you are about the work they've been doing together.

"-absolutely vaporized. It was disgusting, babe." Wade grimaces, "I was fine of course. Red, and all. But Lo here, eeugh. Still scrubbing the blood out of the nooks and crannies."

Logan makes a grunt of acknowledgement, "Had worse."

"Worse? Worse than getting gut-mist blasted across your chest?"

"I'll help, if you want." You offer, "Haven't seen your new suit yet."

At Wade's request, you try to keep out of his business - other than the stories he shares, the occasional repairs of his suit. Doesn't want his life mixing, not after what's happened in the past. 

Dutiful boyfriend by day, mercenary by night. And also sometimes, by day. Evenings, weekends.

It’s an unsteady schedule, but it's one you've grown accustomed to. Maybe that’s what helps make this easy, the way you’ve already adjusted to mutant-regenerative-boyfriend-life. 

But it doesn't mean you're not curious. That you don't appreciate certain aspects - especially when they come in tightly wrapped in leather and lycra. 

And when you eventually rise to collect dishes, it's Logan that beats you to it. A finger sternly pointed towards the couch, Wade's hand at your back - already guiding you towards it, as you protest.

"Least we can do, sweetheart," Logan smiles, "Can't remember the last time I had a meal this good."

"Excuse me," Wade gasps, as he slips on elbow-length mis-matched gloves,"Did my midnight toaster strudels mean nothing to you?"

It's your turn now, to sit on the couch. To watch, as Wade supervises. The quiet talk that swiftly turns to bickering. A yelp and a splash of hot water, before he's retreating.

Sinking down on the seat next to you, as your thoughts swirl. Soft memories of past shared evenings, and the planting of something that you’ll tend to carefully, hoping it will flourish. 

"You're looking at him like he's got balls on his neck," Wade’s arm slings around your shoulders, tone knowing, "Got something on your mind, gorgeous?"

Your nose wrinkles at the visual, but then you turn thoughtful.

"Just like seeing both of you here." Your smile is soft, "It feels right, you know?"

He hums in agreement, and you glance his way, "Do you feel that way too?"

"Feels as right as Ryan Reynolds playing me in my upcoming biopic."

That has you cocking an eyebrow - whatever reference he's making flying over your head, "And that's... good?"

"Yeah, baby." He grins.

"Really fucking good." 

The hunger follows you into the bedroom, after. Your question about dessert gets swiftly turned around on you - hands catching at your waist. 

Threats and promises  to devour you instead - that the ice cream you bought can wait - as lips press against yours. Another mouth at your neck, in your slow and often-interrupted journey to the bedroom. 

Ganging up on you again, almost as if it were planned. 

And you’re not sure if it was, or whether they’ve unconsciously become more in-sync, between their hours together at the apartment and in their work. 

More alike than they are different, at their core - something you’re not sure you’d be able to convince them of, even though you see it.

It’s sweetly familiar, when you finally fall into bed together. Clothes already stripped off, a messy pile mixing together against the woven floral rug as you fit together. 

Spit pools on Logan’s tongue, as he sucks on his teeth. A low tilt of his head before his lips are parting, letting it drop where he has your thighs nudged apart, belly pressed down against the bed.

Warm, where it hits the cleft of your ass. His hand follows - a broad palm curving against soft skin, tugging you open. 

“What do I have to do to let me have you here?” Logan’s thumb smears his spit against the tight ring, voice low and honey-smooth. 

It makes you jolt, a soft sound pulling from your throat. Squirming, as his thumb comes back - rolling the pad against you. 

“She, shit-” Wade groans, as your mouth leaves his cock - the tip glistening as it drops against his belly, “Only lets people she’s dating fuck her ass.”

“Wade!” You whine, as your thighs try to close - Logan’s spreading to keep you open. 

A low rasp of a laugh, “Is that right?”

“Not me though. If you’re curious.” Wade hums, his arm still slung under the pillow, “Sometimes even a first date is too slow.”

Dark eyes drag up, to the shift of hips. Over the leaking cock, lying flushed and hard against Wade’s belly - something like hunger in the slow sweep up to the pulled-wide grin.

“This is you handling it?” You hiss.

“You’re acting like the man invented the elevator.” Wade shrugs - shifting to push himself up on an elbow, “Trust me, there is nothing more romantic than a ‘what are we’ conversation slipped into a discussion about double penetration. We’re multi-tasking, gorgeous.”

Some of the tension eases, with the way he smiles at you. There’s not an ounce of worry in his expression, only the dark shadow of desire, highlighted with humor. 

Waiting until you smile back, before he fixes Logan with a pointed look. 

“Look. I’m gonna level with you,” He sighs, as if divulging something imperative, ”Until you’re ready to commit to being Mr. Y/L/N, then fifth base is just gonna be out of the question.”

There’s the shake of a head, a low huff behind you. The slight stroke of fingers against your skin.

“Are you asking me out?” It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. As if putting pieces together. 

It’s you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, “Depends on your answer.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips.

A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower. 

“Come on Wilson.” He husks, “Let’s get our girl ready.”

A moan rips from you. First, from his words - the jolting butterflies in your belly, a pooling warmth. The sound lengthening, as his tongue flattens where his fingers had teased. Your back arches as Wade pumps his fist, before throwing a filthy “I-Told-You-So” smirk your way.

It glances off you. Your fingers curled in the sheets, as Logan shoulders your thighs further apart. A wet swipe that travels from your cunt to your hole, smearing your slick and his spit against your skin. 

A finger nudging against you, as Wade leans - hand fumbling for the handle of the bedside table. 

“You think you can take both of us?” Logan purrs, as he carefully works you open. A fingertip sinking inside you, as you whine. 

”What, you think we were joking about role-playing?” Wade scoffs,”Why did you think all the dinner knives were missing? Lost ‘em all beneath the bed.”

There’s a shuffle, as he works himself further beneath you. A bottle of lube dropped on the bedspread, as his fingers reach - petting against your clit.

“Tried two before, didn’t we gorgeous? Me and the Pulverine, as we call him.” Wade coos, “Not as big as you, of course. But definitely a lot more sparkly.” 

“Toy’s not the same thing,” Logan hums, as you clench around him. Sinking deeper, slowly pumping, “‘s gonna be a tight fit, baby.”

The sensations are already overwhelming. Wade’s fingers slipping down - fitting one, and then two fingers inside your slick pussy. His thumb nudging against your clit, teasing.

Logan’s weight against you, shifting as his hips grind into the mattress. The messy swirl of his tongue, more spit added to the mess. His thick finger already feels like a lot, pressed down to the knuckle. Slow in the way he works you open, the hot embers in your belly roaring brighter.

“I want it.” You moan, “Want both of you.” 

Wanted it for a while now. Wondered if they’d take you like this. If you’d be able to take them, stuffed so full you could barely draw breath. Wanting to know what it feels like to come, with both of them pressed to the hilt inside you. 

Words fail you, soon after. There’s the cold smear of lube against your skin, a second finger notched. Your cry muffled with the press of Wade’s lips, tilting your face to his as their fingers find their rhythm together.

That steady swirl against your clit. How you’re clenching around them, your arousal slick on Wade’s palm. The sharp rhythmic slap ringing through your ears as you pant into his mouth. Logan’s teeth against the soft curve of your ass, a muffled groan as he fits a second inside you. 

It’s a mimicry of later, but it’s enough. Something bright burning in your belly, fueled by their desire. Hot breath against your skin, Wade’s cock grinding into your hip. 

“Come on, gorgeous.” He murmurs against you, “Let me feel you come with his fingers buried in your ass.”

You choke on your moan. Hips shifting, pushing one deeper and then the other as you chase the building high. The sharp stretch long spooling into pleasure, twisting around your guts, shimmering. 

“‘m gonna-” It’s breathed out, your eyes screwing shut. Focused on the countdown  that’s begun inside you, swiftly approaching with each crook of their fingers, “Fuck, I’m-”

Logan shifts, his breath ghosting against your spine, “Come for us, sweetheart.”

For us. 

Your face buries against Wade’s shoulder, as they bring you over the edge together. Working in tandem to take you apart, and they haven’t even really begun - fingers crooking and curling as a bright pleasure blooms in your belly. 

Wade had been right - it’s not the first time you’ve been full like this. But Logan was right, too. It’s different - the way you can feel them move together, as you whine. The orgasm ripples through you, the sensations drawing out as kisses are dropped between your shoulder blades. 

Soft crooning in your ear, but it’s all muted - barely aware of the palms that run across your skin. The press of mouths against your heated skin - until the pulses in your core fades, the room coming back into focus. 

They slip from you - first Wade, and then Logan. You’ve felt empty before but never like this, already missing the weight inside you. Craving more.

There’s a shift on the bed, Logan shouldering himself next to Wade, who you’re still stretched out on. 

“C’mere, baby. Fuck, need to feel you.”

Hand at your hips, coaxing you up. Encouraging you to straddle his thighs, but then Wade is tsking - reaching for you, trying to turn you around.

“Annnd I just gave myself a promotion to Director,” He adds with a long-suffering sigh, “When you want something done right, gotta do it yourself.”

Logan growls, as your weight leaves him, “The fuck you talking about?”

Wade’s brow arches, “The fuck I’m talking about is you doing this all wrong, peanut. When was the last time you partook in the devil’s threeway? Was it this century, at least?”

Hand gentle as he guides you to face away from Logan, your ass settling against the cradle of his hips.

“There you go,” He coos, “How am I going to give your pretty little kitty the attention she deserves if you have her all hidden away?”

Logan’s hard cock nestles against your belly, as your knees press into the mattress. Breath hitching as you gauge the size of him again. Hoping that the prep he did was enough - the soft buzz beneath your skin certainly has you feeling more than ready.

Slicking your fingers with more lube before they wrap around his shaft - a rough hiss sliding from his throat as they circle around, squeezing. Smearing it against swollen flesh, thumbing over the leaking head as you line yourself up. 

Wade shifting to watch, his head tilted against Logan’s shoulder, his fist already wrapped around his cock as you start to slowly sink down. 

“Sit on it, sweetheart, there you go.” Logan growls, as he breaches you. 

A sharp, inhaled breath as the tip sinks inside you. The building pressure and then the give - as you try not to clench down.

Pulling a rough sound from him. Fingers twitching at your hips - set on only steadying you. A rough edge creeping into his soft encouragement, “Nice and easy, baby.”

Another inch, but it feels like double. Sweat beading along the nape of your neck, as you stretch around him.

“Doing so good,” He rasps, “Take it slow.”

“Taking it like a fucking champ, baby.” Wade interjects, “Couldn’t have done it better myself, and Levy knows how often I thought about it.”

Your nails bite into his thighs, but it only makes his hips flex. Twin moans when it nudges him the rest of the way - your breath stolen when he’s seated flush inside you.

Not that different than when Wade’s fucked you, even with the length he’s got on Logan. But it’s the girth that has your lips parting - a ragged moan with the experimental roll of your hips.

“Pretty fucking sight.” Logan groans, through gritted teeth. Palms slipping around, gently tugging you back towards his chest.

His growl low in your ear, as his hips lift in an experiment thrust.

“Gonna stuff you full, gonna let us do the work.” He husks, a hissed breath when you clench around him. “Make you feel good, alright?”

Palming at your tits, as Wade shifts into position. Swallowing your begging, whined out “please-” as he kisses down your throat. 

Over your breasts. The back of Logan’s hand, against the curve of your belly. His fist still working at his cock, an audible moan of appreciation when he settles between Logan’s thighs.

“You look so good full of him.” It’s mumbled out against your hip, “God, I want to jerk off to this and let you use my cum as lube.”

Logan’s fingers tighten - pinching a peaked nipple as you moan, as kisses are peppered against your mound.

“Fuck us into your tight ass.”

You cry out, when his tongue flattens against your clit. Fingers teasing at your hole, dipping inside to test how full you feel. 

“Soaking wet, baby. You feeling good?” Wade croons, “Or does your greedy little pussy need more?”

“Wade,” You keen, desperate. Rocking into the slow pump of Logan’s hips, his breath harsh in your ear.

His fingers crook, and curl.

“You want us to take you there and back again to pound town?” 

“I swear to god,” You pant, desperate, “If you don’t get inside me, I’ll-, I’ll call Nate.”

His eyes gleam, “That right? Still thinking about riding the ol’ Cable car?”

It’s Logan’s added growl that finally gets him moving. A smile still pulling wide, as he slips from you. His own desperation betrayed by the wet smear against his belly.

The slick tip of his cock, as he ruts against your folds. Your breath held, as he notches himself.

His dark eyes on your blown-wide ones, as he starts to sink in. It has your thighs trembling, as you whine. Clenching down without meaning to, as Logan groans.

Feeling the way he inches into you. What little space left filled as your pussy makes room for him. The tight clutch of your walls, a moan at the way he can feel Logan through the thin layer of skin between them.

A choked-out moan punched from his chest. 

“Made to take us both. Weren’t you, gorgeous?” He murmurs, as his hips move, “Goddamn perfect fit.”

They both move inside you. Stilted thrusts, off rhythm as you squirm between them. Logan getting impatient - throwing a glare Wade’s way.

“Stop moving when I do.”

It’s met with a laugh, as Wade’s hip snap a little harder. Filling you, the force jolting you against Logan, as your nails bite into his biceps.

“I’m driving this thing.” He counters, “Call me Sandra Bullock, because I’m not about to let this bus dip below 50.”

His hand catching Logan’s wrist - resistance when he tugs, but then it’s going with him. Fitting the curve of his fingers against the base of your throat.

“You do what you do best and be the anchor. Keep her still for me, will you?” 

Logan’s fingers flex, but he grunts - the slightest pressure against your chest. 

A pat against your hip, with a wink, “Let Daddypool do all the work.”

You huff, but the sound turns strangled as the sets the pace. Hands at your hips, tugging you to meet his thrusts. Fucking you back on to Logan, when his weight presses into you.

“There we fucking go. How you feeling, baby?”

“Feels so good,”You gasp, as the movement gets familiar. The slick slide of them inside you, the back and forth as they stroke your walls, as your arousal gleams against their cocks. 

“Know it does.” Wade grins, “They don’t call me DP for nothing.”

Logan grunts beneath you. Something biting held back - distracted, as his other hand wanders. Slipping across your hip, then down.

Tracing over your mound. Feather-light against your folds, feeling how you stretch open each time Wade goes balls-deep. 

Your moan coming out ragged, when he teases your clit. Soft strokes with the pad of his finger, before two press and circle.

It makes you jolt, his laugh low in your ear.

Finding that familiar rhythm. Feeling the way your hips flex, seeking out his touch. How easily he’s able to wind you up now, from the times he’s taken you apart. 

How it’s almost overwhelming, with the stuffed-full pressure of them inside you. With the saw of Wade’s hips, as his cock nudges against the spongy spot inside you.

A rough hum when you clench down. Unable to do more than take what he gives you, with the way Logan cradles you against his chest.

It only adds to the surge of pleasure inside you. A near-divine pairing of sensations that has your fingers reaching, Wade’s name a soft cry on your lips. 

He flattens against you, to meet the way your mouth tips up. It’s messy, open-mouthed as his hips slow to a grind. Hands skating up your body, against hips and waist.

Letting him in when he deepens it. A groan as he licks against your teeth. Needy presses of his mouth, spit smeared across your lips when it breaks. Another kiss  peppered against your jaw, where Logan groans into your ear. 

A unconscious shift of his head, and then their lips are brushing.

Logan’s cock throbs inside you, as Wade goes stiff and still. It’s softer than it should be - no more than a shared breath, before Wade pulls back. 

The hand at your neck flexes. Loosens, as it slips between you. Wrapping around the back of Wade’s neck as he yanks him back down.

A growled out “fuck” when they meet again, insistant this time. Vicious with the scrape of teeth, the wet swipe of tongue as Logan’s nails bite into skin.

Messy, as they pant into each other's mouths. Calloused fingers drifting down from your clit to split against your folds. Teasing where you’re filled, as Wade’s moan turns filthy.

A matching sound escaping from Logan, long held back. 

“Fucking holding out on me,” Wade mumbles, when the kiss breaks, “Haven’t been this wet since Cap’s beard reveal.”

Eyes dark, when he feels how Logan moves inside you. Forgetting himself, as he chases the pleasure that threatens to peak inside him.

“Bet you love knowing you’ve been in all of our girl’s holes. Don’t you, handsome?” Wade grins. Eyes still watchful - catching the clench of a jaw, as his lips return to yours.

The kiss is sweeter this time, even as he begins to drive into you. Each of your breaths coming in a whining gasp, pleasure once again winding inside you.

His mouth running away from him, determined to send you both over, ”Should let me into some of yours. You know I’d treat you right.”

“Shut the fuck up. C-Can’t come with you running your mouth.” It’s panted out - half-hearted at best, and Wade’s eyes gleam.

“Fucking liar.” He crows, “Bet you jerk it all the time to the thought of us screaming your name.”

Voice pitches up then, in a mimicry of yours, “Oh, Logan. Fuck me right there with your monster dick-”

Logan strings tight beneath you with a snarl, as he tries to bury himself in your ass. The hand at your neck dipping to grasp at your hip, as the practiced rhythm turns sloppy.

Wade shifts - his weight leaned into your hips. Pinning you both down as he fucks into you, stroke after stroke.  

Logan’s touch is sloppy against your clit - but with the way your boyfriend’s cock pounds against that spot inside you, it’s enough.

You don’t even realize you’re whimpering. The way their names string together, the “please, please, please-” that catches in your throat.  

“You gonna come too, baby?” He coos - thrilled, “You’re both so fucking easy, aren’t you?”

Logan moans in your ear when you squeeze around him, fingers pressing harder. A little faster, and with the next plunge of Wade’s cock - you shatter. 

It’s all white noise, the faded star stickers on the ceiling becoming swirling the sky above as you’re pulled under. 

Helpless, with the way you’re pinned between them. Coming again with the tight swirls against your clit, with them fully sheathed inside you. 

The tight pulse of your orgasm around his sends Logan over. 

Even with Wade’s weight his hips still lift as he bows off the bed. A wounded groan, as he comes with you clenching down around him. Grinding himself into your hole as his cock throbs, emptying himself into you. 

There’s a sing-songed and muted “money shot” that has you groaning. Half-exasperation, half-mindless pleasure, as Logan’s hands roam. Holding you against him, ragged breath against your neck as you milk him empty.

Keeping you stuffed full, hilting his cock deeper when you squirm. Leaving Wade to catch up.

Shameless in the way he watches now, as molten pleasure thrums in your veins. Leaning back to see how you take them both. Picturing how you’ll look after, thoroughly-fucked holes that will drip with them until morning. 

Doesn’t notice when his breath turns short, but you do. 

“Wanna feel you come, baby.” You coo, your smile soft and pleasure-drunk. 

Hands tracing over his, overlapping and squeezing. The shallow lift of your hips to meet his thrusts, purposely squeezing him when he inches out - trying to keep him in.

“Make a fucking mess, Red.” Logan growls - joining you, “Let me feel you come inside her.”

“Jesus Titty-Fucking Christ,” The rough laugh turns into a groan, “Think I’m going to blow two loads at once-”

Hands overlapping, grasping on, holding you, as his hips pump faster. Head tipping - fitting between yours and Logans - as his back bows. 

Coming inside you with a muttered out “oh fuck. fuck yes-”, cock jerking with each needy rut of his hips. The sound turns into a whine when teeth sink his neck, hard enough to bruise. 

Yours on the other side, your soft moan in his ear as you feel the way he throbs as he spills into you again, and again. 

Intense, in a way you’ve never felt before. A connection that loops through you - from the press of your mouths, down to where you fit together. 

It’s fortunate that Logan’s hands still fit at your hips, with how fucked-out and boneless you feel. Trading one cock for another was one thing, but this - being claimed by both of them, the phantom ache as Logan withdraws- it’s something else entirely. 

Your head dropping back to rest against his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded as you wait for your pulse to stop galloping. Logan’s nose ghosting against your temple, an arm still thrown around your hips. 

A hiss, when Wade slips from you. You can feel the mess they’ve made, sticky against your thighs. How they drip from your fucked-out holes, when you clench around nothing. 

It must do something to him, the way Wade moans when he sits back. Fingers raising - mimicking a camera, complete with the click of his tongue as the shutter. 

“If that doesn’t win me an academy award,” He hums thoughtfully.

“Then I don’t know what the fuck will.”

Time slows down, after. The low hum of artificial rain from a device on your dresser, layering with the muted city outside. Doesn’t know if it’s minutes or hours since he last moved, and he really can’t bring himself to care.

As long as it’s still dark, then he knows they’ve still got time. 

“So are you going to bake us a sex cake?” Wade yawns, “You know, for completely rocking your shit.”

“A what?” You stir against him - an eye cracking open. 

Logan grunts, his face buried in your shoulder. A hand splayed across your belly, a tug as he pulls you closer.

“Oh my god,” Wade chuckles to himself, “There I go, mixing up timelines again. I infinitely prefer this one, by the way.”

Logan lets the two of you bicker, his eyes slipping shut again. 

Your apartment is quieter than Wade’s. The bed comparable to the one they shared last time. Can’t remember the last time he’s felt a warmth like this. 

Soft, where your back tucks against his chest. His hand shifts to your hip, curving against soft flesh. Wade’s hand rests close enough to touch, fingers just brushing. Facing you, thighs twined together as he sandwiches you between them.

The shower had been nicer, as well. Snug, when you had pulled them in with you. Taking turns under the warm spray. He had commented on it - a way to drag out the scratch of fingers through his hair. The swirl of soap against his skin, and he had been too blissed out to bother with the facade when a second set of hands grabbed his ass. 

Staying just a little longer, as their hands found their way between your thighs. Wade thumbing at your clit as his own fingers fucked the cum deeper into your cunt. Twin marks sucked into your neck, as your legs threatened to give out - still shaky from before.

You stir against him. Words heavy with sleep.

“Wade didn’t say it earlier.” You yawn - shuffling, so you can help over to face him. 

Logan’s brow rises, as you clarify.

“There’s a caveat to our earlier question.”

“Good word choice.” Wade hums, “11 points, and I bet you were a real pleasure to have in class.”

A low chuckle, when your hips press back against his in warning - as your eyes flip up to Logan’s. 

“It’s a two-for-one deal,” The corner of your lips tug up, “It’s both of us, or nothing.”

“All for one, and one for all,” Wade’s chin hooks over your shoulder, ignoring how you elbow him, “And can you really afford not to take that?”

Supposes it’s cute, that you think you have to tell him this. That his eyes haven’t equally wandered, even if it’s only half-admitted. Too caught on wondering if the only something good he had will change, if he truly allows himself to want something. 

That it’s not only the feeling of your mouths on his cock that he revisits, though he does think of that often.

There’s other moments as well. Squeezing hands and smiles and the way you both look at him. The toothbrush that you had ready tonight, just incase he forgot his. The handle blue, when he slipped it in the cup - tucked next to red and purple.

Your words still spark brightly in his chest, settling low behind his ribs. It quells an uneasy twist that’s been lingering there for the past few weeks. 

Something unsteady, finally finding purchase. 

“Don’t know why you’re clarifying though, gorgeous.” His cheek rubs against yours like a cat. Those brown eyes meet his as well, and it’s hard to bite back the low inhale of breath.

“Considering he tongue-fucked the shit out of me earlier, I think he’s good.”

He huffs in reply, but he can’t bite back the curve of his lips. Not anymore - and he finds that he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Logan agrees. That something turning soft inside him, the smile pulling just a little wider. 

“I’m good.”

thanks so much for reading!! 💖 there's a couple more moments I'd love to explore with them in the future! (but in case I'm not able to, I wanted to end it on this sweet note between them all. )

[futurewdclandonorris]

Workout | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando and you have different ideas on working from home

Warnings: smut is my plot, unprotected sex, long read (2.9k+ words)

A/N: ending is filthy, in a way. I need to be drenched in holy water and restrained from writing smut from now on for my own sanity.

It was one of those days when Lando and you didn’t feel like leaving the house even though you still had things to do. With that in mind, you decided to work from home and well, Lando also decided to work from home. Workout. In front of you and your laptop.

Lando started his warm up long before you settled on the living room couch. Walking past him with your computer under your arm, you murmured “I can think of a better workout.” very nonchalantly.

He perked up, his eyebrows shooting up and bliss of curiosity filled his green eyes. He crawled to you on his knees and tilted his head like a puppy. “What-What do you mean?”

You peeked at him over the screen of your laptop. If this was a cartoon, you’d be able to see question marks pop up above his head, but he was just smiling stupidly at you.

“Nothing.” you said at last, averting your eyes back to the screen.

He gave you a confused look, murmuring an “alright” before jumping straight into it. You let a silent groan of frustration. Sitting with your laptop on your knees with a good view of him, how could he not get it?

As Lando continued his workout routine, you couldn't help but steal glances at him every so often. His muscular form was enticing, and you couldn't help but feel a certain heat building within you. You tried to ignore the feeling, tried to focus on your work, but it was no use. Lando's movements were hypnotizing, and you found yourself getting lost in your own thoughts, watching him over the rim of the screen.

There was a bead of sweat gliding down his forehead, that you followed so closely, sliding down to the side of his face to his neck and finally disappearing under his shirt that was already sticking to his body.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake off the thoughts that were clouding your judgment. Lando didn't seem to notice, still focused on his workout. You let out a soft sigh, feeling the heat between your legs intensify. Typing your fingers off, you tried to distract (and fool) yourself by pretending to be oh so busy, but if someone asked what it is that you’re working on, you wouldn’t be able to tell them.

However, you’d be able to tell them how you wish his sweat would mingle with yours, your bodies entwined, and both of you gasping for air. His muscular arms wrapped around your body, hot breath on your neck as he whispered dirty things in your ear--Ugh! Such thoughts caused another frustrated groan to escape you, and not a silent one this time. Averting his eyes to you, that finally seemed to catch his attention.

“You know,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I think I know what you meant earlier.”

“Oh, yeah?” you raised your eyebrows, trying to act unfazed, looking back at your laptop.

“Yeah, and it won’t be too long before I finish and give you all the attention you need.”

“Careful, don’t overwork yourself. We don’t want you to get injured.” you warned in a playful manner.

“Of course not, that’s why you’ll be doing all the work.” that finally made you snap your eyes to him to meet his grinning face followed with a wink while he bent over to one side, doing his stretches.

You couldn't deny the heat that flared within you at his words. Lando had always known how to push your buttons, and you couldn't help but feel the sudden urge to give in to his desires. With a deep inhale, you set your laptop aside and walked over to him. Lando's eyes widened in surprise as you straddled him, your hands gripping his sweat-drenched shirt.

"Is this what you want?" you whispered in his ear, grinding your hips against his. He let out a low groan, his hands finding their way to your waist.

"I thought you were busy." he teased, his lips trailing down your neck.

"I am. Busy wanting you." you moaned, your fingers finding their way to his sweaty curls and pulling him into a heated kiss.

The lips that met yours were softer than you imagined, and tasted like salt, sweat and the mint of his toothpaste. You could feel his hard muscles pressed against your body, and you moaned softly as he nibbled on your bottom lip. He pulled you closer by the waist, your lips moving in perfect sync, tongues exploring each other's mouths as the heat between you grew more intense.

Breaking the kiss, you looked at him with lust-filled eyes. "I want you, Lando," you breathed out, trailing your hand down his chest.

He didn't need any more encouragement. Lando stood up and carried you to the bedroom. He laid down with you on top of him. His hands went up your shirt, sliding slowly up your skin and making you shiver. You could feel your bra rubbing against your sensitive nipples, and the sensation combined with Lando's lips against your neck, his tongue teasing you, and his hands on your waist was enough to drive you crazy.

He pulled your shirt over your head and unclasped your bra all at once. Your nipples hardened at the draft of cool air that raced down your body. He brushed his fingers over them, circling your nipples slowly before finally teasing your areolas and pulling on them gently.

"God, you're so hot." he moaned, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth while his fingers teased the other.

"Make me hotter." you moaned back, grinding your hips against his while pulling him closer.

"I can do that." he smirked, his hand finding its way down your pants to rub against your soaked panties.

"Don't tease me." you moaned, your head falling back.

Even with you on top of him, Lando was the dominant one. You were his to enjoy, his to use. His to play with. He pulled your panties aside and slid a finger inside you. You moaned at the sudden intrusion, your back arching back from the pleasure. His tongue circled your elicited nipple before he bit it teasingly. His free hand played with your free nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

Pulling his left hand out of your panties, he finished unbuttoning your pants and tugged down on them, wanting to take them off. You got the message and got off him for a split second in order to do so. That gave him an open window to remove his shirt and settle flat on the bed.

“Sit on my face.” he ordered.

You stopped undressing. You could feel the heat rushing into your cheeks and you shyly put down your head, looking away. It was something you’ve never done. Not with Lando, not with anyone. Butterflies in your stomach flew like crazy. You finally felt brave to look at him, your lips parting slightly. He noticed your hesitation and smiled.

"Trust me." his hand found yours, his thumb caressing the back of yours.

You could see the innocence in his eyes, as if he had no idea what you were so afraid of. You quickly pulled your panties off, and without hesitation, straddled his face, your legs on either side of his head, and glided upwards. The sight of him under you, his cheeks caressing your thighs, his lips curled into a smile made you shudder pleasantly.

Lando's hands held your hips, his thumbs teasing your waist, urging you to go on. Your body was tingling all over, and you felt like you were about to explode. Suddenly, you dropped your hips, making Lando moan between your legs. You could feel his lips against your inner thighs. His hands found their way to your ass, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Fuck, you're so wet.” he groaned, his tongue licking up every inch of you, reaching your clit in an instant.

No wonder, you thought; it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You moaned as his tongue circled it slowly, stopping every now and then to flick it. He let out a deep groan, and you could feel his tongue vibrating against your clit. You started grinding yourself against his face, feeling yourself already on the edge. You gripped at his hair as he pushed a finger inside you, slowly and gently. He sucked on your clit and pulled it into his mouth to tease it with his tongue.

He moved his tongue to your entrance and began licking your walls before moving back to your clit. It was enough to make you lose control. The pleasure from his tongue and fingers sent you over the edge, your entire body spasming as you came hard against his mouth, only his strong arms preventing you from moving forward.

"Fuck." you moaned as you caught your breath, leaning down on him.

"Turn around.” he lightly tapped your ass, a devilish grin on his face.

Your breath hitched and lips parted as if you wanted something to say, but decided against it. You could feel your cheeks burning red. You gulped down heavily and turned around. These things are not something you plan, they just happen.

Lando held you in place by the hips as you sat on his face once more, his tongue reaching your clit almost instantly. You let out a loud moan, gripping onto the sheets. His tongue circled it, flicking it before he sucked on it. He pushed his tongue inside you, licking your walls in soft, sensual motions.

Your hands found the waistband of his shorts and slid it down quickly enough alongside with his boxers. His erection sprung free, long and hard, and your eyes widened at the sight of it. But you had no time to waste admiring him for you already gripped him in your hand.

“Mm, good girl.” Lando moaned against you, proud that you got the message. “Keep going.”

You began stroking his length slowly at first, still getting used to the feeling. But it didn’t take long until you were moving your hand in sync with his tongue, guiding his head to your clit. Lando let out a low groan as you slid your hand up and down, your grip tightening at every slow motion, your hand sliding up to the tip before going all the way down again.

He kept licking you, his tongue sliding in and out of your entrance, and his hands gripped your hips, pushing you down harder against his face. You let out a loud moan as he pushed the tip of his tongue against your g-spot, sliding it up and down. His hands slid up your thighs, slowly making their way to your hips and ass.

You decided it was your turn to tease him now. Sticking out your tongue, you ran it over his head.

“Fuck,” Lando hissed, his head falling onto the mattress, but only momentarily.

His hip bucked up, begging you to take more of him. You took him inside your mouth, letting your tongue explore every inch of his shaft. You slowly licked your way up and down, feeling him get more and more excited. You could feel his hands pulling you closer to him, desperate for more. You moved faster and faster, taking a little more of him each time until you couldn’t possibly fit any more. You pulled back, his dick wet with your saliva. You slid up again, letting his erection slide between your lips before finally taking him into your mouth once more.

His movements on your pussy slowed down, but his tongue was as hard as ever, teasing your clit and lips with every lick. He let his hands slide up your back and down again, his fingers teasing your ass. One of his fingers circled your entrance before putting pressure on it. It took you aback for a moment. You took him out of your mouth, letting your breaths calm down a little. You could feel his erection pulsing against your wrist. You felt yourself getting closer to orgasm already.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum!” you moaned, your hand squeezing now as you stroked him faster.

“Good. Give it to me.” he grunted, his tongue never stopping its movement, his lips still sucking on your clit.

The pressure was getting unbearable. You could feel him suck harder on your clit as he stroked you faster, your hand matching his rhythm.

“Lando.” you moaned his name as you felt yourself approaching the edge.

He groaned as he sucked on you, your juices spilling onto his face and tongue. You came with a loud moan and trembling body.

Constantly panting and moaning, you watched as Lando turned around and sat against the headboard. He unhooked your legs from around his head and brought you up so that you were sitting on his lap. He leaned against the headboard and pulled you towards him, your legs spread wide around his hips, your back to his chest. You let out a moan and shuddered as his erection slid along your folds.

“What do you want? I can make you feel good.” he whispered in your ear, his fingers teasing your clit.

"Fuck me." you whispered as you turned around, facing him.

You could tell by his look that he had a devilish grin on his face, and you couldn't help but smile back. You could feel yourself getting wet again as he slowly pushed himself inside you. You moaned as he filled you up inch by inch, his hands on your breasts, teasing your nipples. He let out a grunt of pleasure as he filled you all the way up.

"Fuck.” his whisper was already strained.

"Fuck me as hard as you can.” you breathed out heavily, hissing every time he moved inside you.

“Baby, I have to slow down.” he chuckled.

"For fuck’s sake,” you groaned, taking the matters into your own hands.

Turning to face him, you slid him inside you, all the way to the hilt. He moaned, a throaty, almost animalistic moan. He pounded his head back into the headboard, his hands digging into your skin even harder. You could hear him groaning, his body tensing under you.

You smirked, pulling out of him slowly. So that’s how you’re playing this, huh?

You slid out of him once more, only to slam down again. His head fell back against the mattress, his fingers digging into your skin even harder. You repeated the motion a few more times, each time loving his reaction to you teasing him.

“You still want to slow down, baby?” you arched your brow, smirking.

“Fuck me, baby, come on.” Lando groaned heavily, his head hanging from the side, unable to focus his eyes on you.

You took his arousal in your hands and pushed yourself down on him, his tip hitting you deep. You took a moment to let your body adjust to his girth before you began pounding yourself on him. He growled lowly as you kept going. You slipped a hand between your bodies and began rubbing your clit. His chest was heaving as he let out low moans, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Harder.” he grunted out, his hands sliding down to your hips.

You nodded and obeyed, slamming down onto him as hard as you could. You could feel it getting harder for you to keep up with the rhythm. Your muscles started to tense up. Your lips parted as you let out a soft moan. You could feel his tip pressing deep into you, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. You kept moving faster, letting your clit grind against his pelvic bone every now and then. His hands found your hair and he grabbed a chunk of it. He pulled on it, using it as leverage to straighten himself up and meet your face.

“God, you’re so tight.” his breaths were shaky and his voice pitched higher. You could tell he was close, so you moved your hips faster, stroking him harder.

"And you're so loud." you teased, wanting to hear him scream.

He didn't say anything, but pulled on your hair again, a silent affirmation of what you had just stated. You loved the sensation. He pulled harder, his other hand scratching your back. You could tell that his orgasm was close.

“Fuck!” he hissed loudly, his whole body tensing beneath you.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, Lando, baby,” you said in a low voice as you kept moving, his cock pulsing inside you.

He let out a loud groan as you felt his release taking over. His hands pulled on your hair and his cock tensed, shooting his hot cum deep inside you. His release filled you up, spilling out of you. You felt your muscles tense again. His load shot out of you, dripping down his shaft. You could feel his cock throbbing as more of his cum spilled out. You moaned loudly, your muscles twitching. Lando let out a final groan as your own orgasm took hold of you.

Lando’s hands slid down your body slowly until he reached your hips. He slowly let go of your hair, still panting heavily. You sat down on his lap, still straddling him. You looked into his eyes and you couldn't help but smile.

“That was a good workout.”

“Maybe I should consider doing this routine more often.”

“Maybe.” you sneakily smirked, kissing his chest.

[starkwlkr]

Omfg I need like early on in the relationship between Hugh and marvel!reader where their relationship isn’t public and their papparazzi of them on set together coz they’re visiting eachother and everyone’s thinking xmen X mcu when in reality it’s just them together dating

no spoilers! | hugh jackman

an: ok since their first son was born in 2000 (it’s canon idk what date but it’s canon now lol) and the mcu started in 2008 I’m going to change a few things JUST TINY THINGS like the mcu being in development early on and marvel actress!reader being casted in the early 2000s. does that make sense?? idk this is fanfiction

2005

Getting a call from Marvel was something you never expected. Like many people, you grew up reading the comics and watching the tv shows. But now you had the chance of a lifetime. You were being offered a role in the first movie in the Marvel cinematic universe.

After having a meeting with the marvel executives and your manager, you were asked to keep the news of your casting a secret. The media was already wondering who was going to portray what heroes on the big screen and your name was being thrown around.

While your relationship was still a secret, you often visited Hugh on set of X-Men with Alex and Reese. You tried to keep your little family from the media as much a possible. You would watch Hugh get into his costume and do his stunts. You were always amazed at how much fun it would be to portray a superhero and now you were finally going to be able to.

A few months after you met with Marvel, you found out you were pregnant with your third baby. A girl. Thankfully you weren’t set to film yet since the film was still in development. When it was finally time to film ‘Iron Man’, you were more than ready. Your kids were a bit older so they finally got to watch you beat up bad guys like their dad did.

It was during the filming of ‘Iron Man 2’ when your secret was finally revealed to the world. You didn’t really know how it even happened . . . Your guess was that paparazzi somehow snuck in. Hugh was always careful when visiting you on set. Rumors were already circulating on the internet about a potential X-Men and Avengers team up. It didn’t help that Hugh was sporting his signature Wolverine hair when he visited the set. At least the kids weren’t with you.

“You look much better than me,” Hugh looked at your costume. He couldn’t stop staring, it was starting to make you weak in the knees. “at least you get comfortable suits. Remember the black suits from X-Men? The most uncomfortable shit ever.”

“The kids thought you looked cool.” You reminded him.

“Okay, that makes me feel better.”

As you and Hugh talked, some paparazzi were secretly taking photos. All they could think about was how well they were going to get paid for the exclusive photos. The X-Men joining the mcu? That was big news!

When the photos were published on every magazine, you couldn’t help but laugh. What a way to reveal your relationship. You definitely didn’t want to share the news this way, but you also didn’t want to lose your job.

“Maybe in a few years it’ll come true. You, me, X-Men and the Avengers.” He told you, giving you your morning coffee. The kids were still sleeping so you and Hugh took advantage of the quiet morning. You set the magazine down on the table and drank the coffee.

“It would be nice. Imagine what the kids will think. Mom and dad beating up the bad guys together,” you smiled at him. He took the opportunity to give you a kiss. As he pulled away, you whispered to him. “or it could be me kicking the wolverine’s ass.”

You and Hugh’s characters wouldn’t share the screen until 2024 when Deadpool & Wolverine premiered. Your kids were more than excited to see their parents fighting together.

@kellyxo1 @barnes70stark @ru-kru @flyestvenustrap @evasmlp

[beneathashadytree]

RESPONSIBLE DADS - LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN X READER

Warnings : autistic!Zayne with his autistic daughter, all of them are girl dads here (except for Xavier who has twins), cuteness-aggression bites, one mention of a gun (no one is harmed!), no mentions of pregnancy (their kids can be interpreted as biological or adopted), this isn’t proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much domestic fluff ☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 2.3K words (holy shit???)

Additional notes : This is a combination of two asks I’d received a month or two ago about the LNDS men as dads while their partner is away, and Zayne in particular struggling with his own autism vs his child’s autism. The brain rot was real in this one😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“She went down without much of a fuss,” Zayne said, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him as he set his phone on the dresser and got ready for bed over the video call, despite the time zone differences. He’d tried to convince them to just let themself rest instead of staying up past 3 AM, but they’d paid him no mind and insisted on seeing him last thing before bed.

They hummed, watching him slip out of his button up through their screen with a fond gaze. “She is really quiet compared to what I’ve heard about kids her age.”

In the midst of folding his shirt, he paused, a slight crease between his eyebrows. “A little too quiet.” At his concerned face, they straightened up in their seat and leaned in closer to their phone. “I think… she has difficulty connecting with me.”

Their expression was unsure at that. “I don’t know, Zayne. You know she loves you…”

“I do,” was his swift answer, pausing as he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head, then popping out with his hair adorably mussed. “But maybe she feels like I wouldn’t understand her.”

No matter how much he wanted to seem stoic and unaffected by the prospect, there was no hiding the conflicted emotions swimming in his eyes. With an almost sad smile, they asked him, “Even though anyone that sees you two says you have so much in common?”

With a slight flush (was it out of embarrassment as he noticed his messy hair, or was it a twinge of pride in being so connected to his daughter?) he began to apply his minimal skincare that he’d grown used to with them, scarred skin deftly being cared for after years of neglect.

“Autistic girls have different experiences than autistic boys, and their struggles are often overlooked because of these differences. Maybe she subconsciously feels that we can’t bridge that gap.”

Resting their head against their hand, keen eyes bore through him. Zayne would never go unheard as long as they were there. “Do you feel that gap?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly as he wiped the excess off on his hand towel. “It’s not about me. Studies show that—”

Shaking their head, they sighed a little in affectionate exasperation. “It doesn’t matter what studies say. You’re overthinking it because you want things to be perfect. It’s sweet, just… not very realistic.”

“Mm. I know,” he softly conceded, combing through his hair with a distant glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t so easy, navigating the emotions and ideas of a child that one already struggled with for decades.

They apologetically smiled at him, then added, “She trusts you with her life because she knows how hard you try to understand her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. You give her the space to be able to communicate her needs properly, and that’s why she loves you beyond measure, Zayne.”

He looked away for a few beats, but that was enough time for them to see the misty-eyed wonder in his eyes as he looked at the crooked drawing on his bedside table that she’d made of him holding her in his arms.

His sweet daughter who carried a piece of his heart everywhere she went.

“Then she’s just like you. Very open with her affections.” Huffing out an impossibly tender laugh, he picked up his phone once again and began to climb into bed, his shoulders sagging with relief; like he needed that reassurance to be able to nestle his body into the mattress, cold as it was without his lover. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it from you both…”

“You’re gonna get sick like that, and guess who’ll be cleaning up that mess?” Rafayel frowned, grabbing his daughter by the scruff of her neck and carrying her off before she got her pretty dress drenched by the wave that came crashing down where she’d been standing.

“I can’t get sick from water, daddy, and you know it,” came the reply between giggles, her eyes closed as she relished in the spray of seawater.

With a grunt, he fumbled with his phone a little as he switched to carrying her against his hip with one arm, before turning back to the ongoing video call. “Holding down the fort?” they teasingly asked, arching their brow at their daughter’s windswept hair and inevitably sandy fists curled up against Rafayel’s chest.

“She likes to bully me.” He pouted as he saw two pairs of mischievous eyes looking at him. “No guesses as to where she picked that up from.”

“Are you sure that your six year old daughter—who, mind you, is as cute as a button—is bullying you?”

“Daddy’s just silly, Lemurians are fine with water,” his daughter tried to reason with what she felt was perfectly logical. “He just doesn’t want to wash my clothes again if I get them wet.”

“And why should I?” he indignantly huffed out at the grin that showed she was definitely up to no good. “They’ll get dirty ten seconds later anyways. It’s such a pain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave paint buckets everywhere, then I wouldn’t be on my fourth dress of the day.” Her sassy mutter under her breath was the last straw, and then his instincts took over and—

Chomp!

His teeth nibbled on her round little cheeks, cuteness aggression washing away any possible annoyance (which he’d been feigning, anyways) at the prospect of having to do the laundry all over again. She cried out in protest, though her shreaks of laughter and tighter hold on him gave away the fact that—not unlike his partner—she loved every bit of it.

“You got my face all dirty,” she whined, wiping her cheek against his silk shirt as he walked them back up to the house, much to his dismay.

A chuckle came from his screen, and he flushed under the sweet gaze and the grin he missed so much. “There goes another round in the washing machine. Y’know, Raf, it’s not the smartest move around to wear your favorite clothes around your kid.”

“No kidding,” he grumbled, though there was no bite behind his words. In fact, the tender look in his gem-like eyes only spoke volumes of the adoration he held inside. And maybe his little girl felt it, and decided it would be the perfect moment to press a kiss to where she could reach, right over his heart.

“I don’t mind the paint, daddy. You always make the prettiest things with it, pretty just like you,” she softly said, her tiny index finger toying with the pearlescent button on his blouse.

How much more did she want to squeeze his heart in his chest? He didn’t think he could possibly love her any more than he already did, and yet here she was, proving over and over again that she was the greatest gift he could ever be blessed with after all these years. Walking into their home with sandy feet and salty skin was no longer a dream, but a part of his quaint little life.

“Even if you did ruin my favorite dress and sandals.”

“Papa’s been asleep for three hours now,” she whined in a low voice, her bottom lip jutted out as she looked back at Xavier curled up in a ball in the middle of the unmade bed, legs tangled in the messy sheets. She then turned back to the videocall at hand. “Can’t you wake him up, please?”

Her twin brother popped up from behind her and patted her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s tired after he played with us. Let’s leave him for a bit.”

With a downcast gaze, she reluctantly nodded and walked out with him, the phone shaking as it was a little too big for her small hands.

Now out in the living room, they could finally raise their voices a little. “Papa cleaned up in the morning too. We probably shouldn’t have asked him to play with us.” He looked a little forlorn as he fiddled with his fingers. Painfully shy, it often showed when he was doubting himself. “We tried to help him after lunch, but—”

“That’s okay, what matters is that you both tried to lend him a hand,” they sweetly reassured them as they smiled through the screen. “And I’m sure if he was too tired to play with you guys, he wouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

Their daughter gasped, eyes shining in awe at that. “How did you know that Papa was the one who came up with the game?”

“Because he waits for playtime every day, just to spend time with you guys. He’s always so excited, y’know?”

With matching grins (though one was more bashful than the other), the two seven year-olds looked significantly lighter than they had been when the call had first started. The precious moment was soon interrupted by a yawn from behind and a tuft of blonde hair taking up half the background.

“Did you two sneak off to have them all to yourself?” came Xavier’s sleep-addled voice, as he shuffled to pull them onto his lap and readjust the camera. “Cheeky, taking advantage of my nap.”

His daughter laughed, her hands going to loop around his neck. “We weren’t! Promise.”

Her brother reached up to pat down Xavier’s bedhead, gently combing through the soft locks. “You looked tired, Papa. We didn’t want to wake you up with our voices.”

At that, Xavier couldn’t help the upwards quirk of his lips, all the love one could contain threatening to burst through as he held his world between his fingertips—and the best part of him miles away but no further from the heart.

“You’re sweet, just like a certain someone we all miss,” he said, before kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair, earning little grumbles of protest. Turning his attention back to the videocall, Xavier’s eyes softened. “How long until we can take naps together on the couch again?”

His partner sighed, glancing at the calender on the wall for a moment. “Should be three days. It’s hell without you guys. Maybe I’ve gotten used to waking you all up for an hour in the mornings.”

“Hey, it’s all because of Papa!”

“He does sleep in twice as long as us…”

“And it’s gotten even worse now that you’re gone.”

He chuckled at their sulking feeding off each other, and the collective agreement that things just weren’t the same when his lover wasn’t beside him where they belonged. “Then maybe this should be enough to convince them to hurry back to us so we can get up early every day, hmm?”

“Tell me why Luke and Kieran frantically called me up and told me stop you from endangering our one year old girl. Now.”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” Sylus rolled his eyes at the clearly enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve missed you too. I’m doing good without you for two weeks. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that crap. You’ll live.” Scoffing, they crossed their arms in front of their chest. “Less avoiding the topic, more explaining why your seconds in command are treating you like a ticking bomb.”

“They’re more like lackeys, you know.” A hint of irritation climbed up his spine. Luke and Kieran were more like lost puppies that would be a danger to themselves—and society—if they were left to their whims. That’s all that they were (or so he tried to convince himself).

They waved him off, knowing that his half-assed words weren’t to be taken seriously. “I beg to differ. Now, where is she and what happened?”

Silence settled for a few moments, but then he realized it wasn’t in his favor to not quickly come clean. “She was playing around with me in bed, then seemed fascinated by my left pocket. Said pocket… may or may not have had a gun.”

Leaning in close to the camera, they sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of their nose. “And I’m assuming her magic little fingers found the trigger.”

“More or less yes,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he met their dead-eyed stare. “Had to whip it out and fling it across the room… which may or may not have caused it to slam into the new bookcase and send it toppling.”

It didn’t matter how many people he’d managed to fearlessly face down; pinned underneath his partner’s disapproval, he found himself unable to move. “And that’s where they came in?”

Sylus hummed, flipping the camera and showing them the fractured remains on the floor. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Didn’t have the time to clean it up, what with feeding her and getting her ready for bed.”

“It’s fine, I can build another one.” Their quick dismissal was followed by the furrowing of their eyebrows. “What matters is that you prioritized her safety first.”

“Of course,” he was quick to reply, turning the camera back to himself, before he chuckled a little, sweetness seeping through his voice, “Though I do admit, seeing her have no self-preservation instincts really did make her strikingly similar to you in that regard.”

“Really flattering, hearing you praise her brashness and compare it to mine.” Their expression then grew more serious, and they worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “But… please. Don’t keep any weapons in the same room as her. She’s naturally curious.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmured, having had his dose of sheer panic at her tiny hands. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been as terrified as he was earlier, his blood turning to ice at the thought of endangering her because of his own fast-paced life.

“I know you’ll be more careful. You’re so good to her—and me,” they quietly mused, a grateful look on their face as they admired him—tired ruby eyes, unruly silver hair, and all.

And Sylus had no control over his own lovesick stare, perfectly content with dancing in their palm for the rest of their lives. After all, he’d found the only two people in this world he could forfeit his life for. There was no shame in admitting it—and so he did, ever so softly. “I suppose you can take pride in knowing that you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

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[tinycoffeeroom]

miami heat | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

a/n: this is SO late but it took me forever to move past the writers block of a text only fic </3 still thinking about lando's race win...

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You and Lando had been inevitable. Your dad was a long time racing fan, often attending karting events around the country and dragging you along. As time passed, you learned to love it too, often waiting for your dad at the door when he got back from work so the two of you could quickly throw some clothes into an overnight bag and travel off to whichever race track you’d be camping in that weekend.

It helped that your cousin was a kart racer, both you and your dad using him as an excuse for attending so many races. Your mum would sigh, pull out the premade lunches from the fridge and stuff them into a small blue cooler before seeing the two of you off at the door. 

When your cousin got the call up to F4, you’d been overjoyed for him. Being able to watch his dreams come true filled you with so much pride. It also gave you and your dad another excuse to attend more F4 races, now offering to pick your cousin up and take him from race track to race track every weekend as well as your dad offering to be his race engineer, using his background as a mechanic to work on the car’s engine. Your aunt and uncle agreed happily, knowing how much the two of you enjoyed watching your cousin race. 

The first live F4 race felt electrifying. You weren’t used to seeing actual cars racing in person, only ever watching the Formula 1 races on the small portable TV your dad had invested in during the first year of your kart watching adventures. You and your cousin would always cheer for your favourite racers, him still sweaty and suited up from his own race but pumped up on adrenaline. 

You watched as he fist bumped other drivers after the race, coming a respectable 4th in his first ever F4 race. This part was your least favourite, having to wait for your cousin to talk to all these sweaty teenage boys was not your idea of fun. Spread out comfortably on the moon chairs your dad had bought for the races, you opened your 3DS to play Pokemon Sun. Too enveloped in the battle between your Incineroar and the NPC’s Crabominable, you missed the sound of someone dropping into the chair next to you. 

“What level is he?”

You jumped at the sound, looking up quickly to lock eyes with a random boy. 

He was obviously a racer, still suited up. Using one hand to push back sweat soaked curly hair, he curiously eyed your 3DS before looking back up at you. 

“She’s level 57. I need to beat this Crabominable to make her 58 so she can learn Flare Blitz.”

He hummed, a soft smile spread across his face as he flits his eyes over you. You took note of your appearance, hair pulled back into two braids to keep it out of your face in the windy English weather, your dads bomber jacket engulfing your figure as you fought the cold. 

“Female Incineroar, rare.” He sounded impressed. “Don’t let me stop you.” Gesturing to the console in your hands, he leant back and focused on your hands. 

Unsure of how to respond, you looked back down at your game. The Crabominable had about half HP but this was a nasty NPC, whipping out potion after potion to heal the Pokemon. You and the unnamed boy sat side by side as you chipped away, bit by bit, at the Crabominable’s HP until the victory message appeared on your screen. A mere 2000 pokedollars given for your troubles.

You watched as your Incineroar, lovingly nicknamed Kitty from when you started the game, levelled up to 58 and finally, she could learn Flame Blitz. 

Saving the game and shutting down the console, you looked back at the boy beside you. He smiled back in response. 

“So… no offence, but who are you?” The second the sentence left your lips, you wanted to smack the 3DS into your face, tone not unkind but wary. You could only hope he wouldn’t take offence to the question. 

“Oh, sorry!” He reaches across to offer you his hand. You shake it gingerly, his hand warm in your wind chilled one. 

“I’m Lando. Lando Norris. Soon to be F4 champion if all goes well. And you are?”

He was still smiling, the curve unnerving you a little. “Y/N. My cousin’s just joined F4, he’s over there.” Reaching out, you pointed towards the boy in question who was high fiving another racer, the two of them laughing loudly over the sound of car engines. 

“Oh, Y/C/N? He’s cool. I met his dad earlier.”

You glanced over at the man mentioned, head bowed as he conversed with the other adults about race tactics and the boys’ performances. “That’s my dad, his uncle. He’s a mechanic so it made sense that he would be Y/C/N’s race engineer.”

“What about you? Are you a big karting fan?” 

From the sound of his voice, you could tell he was facing you. Too nervous to look into his eyes again, you focused on your dad, watching as he pulled your cousin aside to talk about the race. “I am. Me and my dad have been going to karting events most weekends for years.” 

His eyes burned into the side of your face, gaze unwavering. “How about Formula 1? That’s my dream, I want to race against Lewis Hamilton and one day beat him.”

The mention of your favourite driver dragged your attention back to the boy beside you. You smiled softly, pulling your iPhone 6 out of your pocket to show him the 44 sticker on the back of the case. “I love Formula 1. Me and Y/C/N are gonna watch the race in the van while my dad makes some adjustments to the car. Do you…” You hesitated for a moment.

Were you really going to invite a boy you’d just met to come sit with you and your cousin to watch a race? It was harmless, the three of you would fit in the back seats, but you weren’t sure if Y/C/N would want him to join. 

Lando beat you to it. “Aw, I would ask to join but me and my dad have to get back home as soon as possible, it’s my sister's birthday this weekend!” Pulling his own phone out of his pocket, he showed you his lockscreen, a picture of him and who you guessed was his family. 

You nod, turning your own phone in circles in your hands. “Happy birthday to your sister.” 

He grins, the smile seemingly permanently etched on his face. “Thanks, Y/N!” 

You hear a man call for him, presumably his dad. Lando sighed as he nodded towards the man, turning back towards you. “Gotta run! Could I maybe get your number? I think we’re going to be good friends.”

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He was right. The two of you would text every moment you could. In between classes, before and after dinner, even facetiming until the early hours of the morning on weekends. 

Every weekend, you’d pull up to the race track and there Lando would be, permanent wide smile and open arms as you hugged briefly. Before each race, he’d run over to you, head bowed so you could knock on his helmet. You weren’t sure when the tradition had started but ever since it began, it was cemented in his pre-race routine. 

After every race, it would go one of two ways. If it was a good race, he’d run over and hug you, spinning you round as you laughed brightly at him. If it was a not so good race, you’d be the one to approach him, the two of you sitting on the lip of his dad’s van in comfortable silence as you let him work through his emotions in his own time. He’d soon come around, chatting to you about any and everything. 

Before you’d leave, he’d pull you into another hug, swaying the two of you from side to side. 

Of course, your cousin teased you. Singing silly childish songs, “Y/N and Lando sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. You’d bat him across the head, willing the blush in your cheeks to go down. 

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Since the two of you were now 16, whilst Lando had allowances for his GCSE’s, you still had to knuckle down and work hard. Hours were spent sitting at your desk, eyes scanning across textbook after textbook. It was only after Lando called you in tears after he struggled to understand the poems needed for his English exams and explained he had dyslexia that the two of you would facetime every night. You’d read out the poems to him as he took it all in and made notes in a way that made sense to him. You told him about these coloured overlays that were meant to help people with dyslexia read, and you’d watch him cry as pink acetate covered the poems and he could finally, finally, understand. The two of you still facetimed every night, he claimed your voice helped him understand so much more. 

Since you had to revise, you often had to forfeit your racing weekends. You’d see your dad and cousin off at the door, much like your mum had done for years, and return to your room, wiping the tears that threatened to escape from your eyes. 

The routine never changed though. Lando would call you before every race, telling you that you had to knock on the screen and he’d hold his helmet clad head to the camera. After every race, you’d either celebrate over the phone or sit in silence, watching him through the screen as he let himself digest what went wrong in the race. 

Your last GCSE exam fell on a Friday, the freedom of your weekends returning. You didn’t tell Lando, wanting to surprise him at the race track. As you sat in the back seat of your dad’s van, you kept up the pretence for Lando, texting him as if you had a normal weekend of revising ahead. 

When the three of you pulled up to the race track, you ducked down so you weren’t visible through the windows. Your dad got out of the car first, greeting Lando’s dad. The two of them had formed a good friendship through the race weekends, often sitting together to watch the boys go round the track. Next up was Y/C/N, jumping out the van and fist bumping a waiting Lando. 

The two boys went to leave, already play fighting about who would win. It was only then that you snuck out the back seat, hands on your hips as you called out to the boys ahead. 

“Forgetting something?”

Lando’s head whipped around so fast, you feared he’d give himself whiplash. You barely had time to laugh at his dumbstruck expression before he’d launched himself at you, strong arms wrapped tight around your waist as he lifted you in the air. 

He pressed his face deeply into your neck, the feel of his smile present against your skin. 

Linking your arms around the back of his neck, you played with the unruly curls tickling your chin. “Missed me?”

He nodded, head still firmly placed between your neck and shoulder. The two of you stood there for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence until your cousin piped up. 

“We do still have a race to get to.” Locking eyes with him, you could already tell he was going to tease you relentlessly when you’re back in the van. 

Lando finally released you, hands still holding firm on the sides of your waist. Warm smile directed at you, eyes glistening a little with unshed tears. 

Lando’s dad bumped his helmet against his shoulder, Lando taking it and pulling on his balaclava and the helmet. He bowed his head, allowing you to knock on it once. This time however, he knocked on your own head once, hand uncurling to cup the side of your face before he walks away to join your cousin. 

In that moment, you knew you were in love with Lando Norris. 

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The two of you stayed close throughout the years. You still attended as many races as possible, celebrating his wins and commiserating through his lows. Soon you were watching him in Formula 3, then Formula 2 and finally, after all his hard work, you stood in the paddock of Albert Park watching as Lando was flanked by engineers. 

His debut Formula 1 race. 

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The day you got the call that he’d been contracted by McLaren was one of the best days of your life. It took him 5 minutes to calm down enough to explain to you what had happened, the two of you sobbing violently over the phone as you realised his dream had come true. 

As you collected yourself once you’d gotten off the phone, your mum had come upstairs with a packed lunch and a flask of fresh, warm coffee. Looking at her questioningly, she smiled softly at you. 

“Go. You need to celebrate with him in person.”

You grabbed the box and flask from her hands, arms thrown wide around her. Packing a quick overnight bag, you jumped in your car, haring down the motorway to Lando’s parents house. 

The look on his face when he opened the door made the possible speeding tickets worth it, eyes wide and glossy as they flit up and down your body. “You’re here?”

You grinned at him, wide and unabashed. “I’m here.”

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The cycle continued. Every podium was met with you running into his arms when he was back in the garage and every DNF resulted in the two of you sitting in his driver’s room, your arms wrapped tight around him as the dream of a grand prix win slipped from his grasp again and again. 

Today, something was different however. Lando had knocked on your door bright and early, inviting you down for breakfast with the team. He told you about a dream he had last night where he won the Miami Grand Prix, how the champagne shower had felt so real. 

This unwavering optimism continued throughout the day. Him bouncing alongside you as you walked through the paddock, greeting the other drivers along your way. The optimism rubbed off on you, finding yourself pulling up old photos of Lando to save to a folder titled “Race Win”. 

When it came time to get in the car, you watched as his engineer secured the final straps before disappearing behind a screen to check the car’s stats. He looked up at you through the open visor, head soon bowing. Leaning down, you knocked once before dropping a quick kiss to the top of his helmet. Extra luck for the day. 

The entire race had you on the edge of your seat. You cheered as Oscar led the grand prix, winced as Max hit the bollard and nearly sobbed your eyes out as Lando overtook to lead. Kevin pushing Logan off the track meant a safety car and Lando ended up fortunate to join at the back but one lap ahead. A pit stop and fresh tires and away he went. Each second he gained on Max left spikes in your heart rate until it reached the 7 second mark and the last 4 laps and you knew. Deep down in your soul, even if everyone was still on tenterhooks, you knew this was his time. His win. 

The engineers ran to the fences, an army of papaya swarming the metal chain link as your eyes stayed glued to the camera. At the last second, you darted out to the fence, away from the chanting crowd so you’d have an unobstructed view of his win. 

The chequered flag waved and Lando crossed the finish line, now a grand prix winner. You couldn’t have stopped the tears even if you tried, knees buckling as you held onto the fence in front of you. 

The noise around you was near deafening, engineers dog piling on one another, a few strays leaving the group to wrap you in tight hugs. 

A hand landed on your shoulder, warm but soft pats pulling you from your stupor. Turning, you looked up at Zak, a fond smile on his face. “Let’s go see our boy.”

The two of you walked in near silence, Zak leaving his hand on your shoulder as he welcomed congratulations from other teams. The tears never stopped streaming down your face, vision swimming as you passed team after team. 

The breath was knocked out of you as arms wrapped around your waist from behind and swung you around. Looking down, you spotted the rose tattoo on a left hand and laughed as Daniel dropped you back softly onto the ground. Spinning around, you threw yourself into his arms properly, the two of you rocking back and forth happily. 

“He did it!” Daniel shouted as you pulled away, hands on your shoulders to shake you gently. 

“He did it!” You responded, a fresh wave of tears escaping your eyes. Daniel laughed at your tears, wiping them away haphazardly before letting you run back to Zak’s side. 

You watch as Lando ran towards his team, still fully suited up, launching himself into the air as the sea of papaya below caught him. The team held him aloft, jostling him through a mass of hands. 

Once he’s back on solid ground, Zak approached him first, the two of them sharing a warm hug. The visor of his helmet is lifted and without even seeing his face, you know he’s smiling, eyes scrunched up in joy. 

Those same eyes finally lock onto you, wide and sparkling. He runs at you as fast as he can, arms outstretched. You brace for impact, a laugh being pressed out of you as he crushes you in his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist as he lifts you up, warm eyes staring straight into yours. 

Before you even know what you’re doing, your lips press against the front of his helmet, right where his own mouth would be beneath the carbon fibre, a universal sign in racing of a lover’s kiss. 

Ignoring the roar of his team around you, you focus on Lando in front of you. His eyes crinkled under the force of his own happiness, shining bright even under the dark cover of the helmet. He lowers you down, arms wrapped firmly around your waist until your feet are planted safe on the floor. 

You watch as he unclasps the straps under his chin and rips the helmet off, his neck support following in haste. His eyes are still locked onto yours, unshed tears gleaming along his lash line. Through the balaclava, you can see his smile, warm and golden in the Miami sun. 

The balaclava comes off next and your heart stutters at the pure, unobstructed view of the man in front of you. Sweat clings to his upper lip, dripping down his thick neck, curls matted to his forehead under the American heat. You’re drawn back to his eyes, green as a hidden forest, full of glimpses of golden hour through the branches. You loved how you could always tell how he felt through his eyes, forever abundant with emotion. 

Hands wrap back around your waist, dragging you into him as he presses his lips unwaveringly against your own. It’s a little gross, the feeling of sweat transferring to your own lips, the damp curls at the bottom of his neck where your hands come to lie but you wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s worth it to feel his smile against your own, the kiss more teeth than lips and you breathe in the way he laughs against your mouth, molten gold dripping from his lips to yours. 

The two of you part slightly, cheeks aching at the way you’re still grinning. The kiss remains unspoken, Lando being dragged off by his team for interviews. You look at Zak who winks knowingly at you. This time, you let the blush rise, overtaking your cheeks and flushing down your neck. 

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Waiting for Lando in his driver's room seemed to never end. It had been an hour since you’d finally kissed him and your lips still tingle with the feeling. 

Your mind was a jumbled mess, thought after thought fighting to sit at the front of your mind. Tracing your finger across your lips, you allow yourself to remember that moment. To fall headfirst into how it felt to finally feel what it was like to kiss Lando. 

The sound of the driver’s room door banging against the wall shakes you out of your stupor, twirling around to face a sheepish Lando. 

“Um, sorry… I guess I was just eager to get back here.” He giggles softly, standing still in the threshold. 

Smiling back at him, you gesture him inwards, scoffing at the absurdity of you inviting him into his own driver’s room. He stumbles in, shutting the door behind him. One hand reaches out to run over the scuff mark on the wall, grimacing as he traces the black mark. 

He turns to face you, smile beaming as you stand two feet apart, eyes tracing over each other as you bask in the long awaited silence. You watch as his hand reaches out, the back of his fingers brushing against yours. The hand reaches around, clasping yours gently in his. You squeeze once, smiling shyly up at him. 

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is quiet, almost shaky as he keeps his eyes trained on your conjoined hands. 

You squeeze his hand again, humming your assent. 

“I love you. I’ve loved you since we were 15 years old and I saw you sitting on those moon chairs. I remember my heart was beating so, so fast and I thought it was just post race adrenaline but when I remember your shy smile and the braids you had in your hair and my heart feels the exact same way. It’s always been you.”

Even after the kiss, the admission makes your heart race wildly. He loves you. He loves you back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t love me the same way I love you.” He tries to come off nonchalant, but the way his hand trembles in yours betrays his true emotions. 

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his shaking hand, heart thumping erratically at both the situation and the sweetness of his nervous confession. “Lan, I was literally a 15 year old racing nerd and you were a boy willingly talking to me. Why do you think I was a nervous mess when you spoke to me? I had the biggest crush on you.”

“Having a crush and loving someone is different.” He leads you by your intertwined hands to the sofa, settling back into the corner as you sit close enough to keep your hands connected. “Back then, you knew me as Lando Norris, F4 driver, and then just Lando, your best friend who secretly stuffs his face with pizza and falls over his own feet more often than not.” He huffs out a laugh at the memory of the last time he’d tripped over thin air and fallen flat on his face when you’d gone to visit him in Monaco. 

Avoiding eye contact, he keeps his eyes trained on the way your fingers interlock almost perfectly. “I was worried you wouldn’t love me when we became close.” 

“You idiot,” using your free hand, you smack him lightly on the arm, giggling at the fact the two of you had been mutually pining for years, “that just made me love you more. Sure, I was 16 and the idea of dating a race car driver, even little Lando Norris,” his arm reaches out to return the smack, “was a dream, but then I wanted to date just Lando, the man who gives me piggybacks from clubs when my feet hurt and bites my arm when I’m not paying attention. I love you, just plain old Lando Norris.”

If you thought his smile when winning was bright, the one he shoots you now is almost overwhelming. Face pulled up so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if he complained of an ache in his cheeks later, eyes crinkling deeply at the corners and shining a bright seafoam green. 

Before you can return the grin, he reaches up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. The passion is the same but different, no longer adrenaline filled from a race win, but full of love and adoration and the secret he never thought he’d get the chance to say. 

He pulls back just enough for a whisper of air to pass between the two of you, eyes warm and locked onto yours. “I love you. So much. It’s me and you, plain old Lando and plain old Y/N.” 

You push him lightly, grinning playfully. “Who are you calling plain?”

He rectifies his mistake with another kiss, this one softer and slower, the two of you taking the time to appreciate that this moment had finally come. The kiss moves to the corner of your lips, across your cheek and down to the spot just below your ear. 

A hand wraps around your waist, securing you to your spot. Pulling back slightly, you look down at the smiling man resting his head on your shoulder. “So, I love you, and you love me. What next?”

“We go celebrate this momentous occasion, and the race win, and then I take you out for our first proper date.” Tightening his hold on you, he moves his head to rest in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, dropping warm kisses to the skin beneath his mouth. 

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a/n: 3 of my top 5 boys on the canada podium is so 💞💖🩷💓💗💝💖💗💕💗💘💞 also as an esteban ult, it's on site for alpine fr. ALSO GOTE pt 3 coming soon ❤️

[mountttmase]

Number One Fan

Note - just a lil something I wrote yesterday based on a concept my love @saltyheartnightmare sent me 🤭 I hope you all enjoy and feedback would be appreciated 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 2.2k

Warnings - angst and fluff

There was only one persons voice Mason wanted to hear right now, but he wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear his.

Looking back at everything that happened yesterday, he could see he was wrong and knew he needed to apologise but his mood had now plummeted even further and he felt more sorry for himself than ever.

The mood on the train wasn’t much better. The loss today had hurt and the only positive Mason was taking was that he’d got more minutes in the tank after such an unfortunate first season. He was just hoping the result today wasn’t something they would carry into the coming year.

Most of the boys were in their own worlds. Asleep or listening to music and whilst Mason would have loved to have been able to zone out and do the same, he couldn’t. His mind plagued with thoughts of you and the tearful look on your face as he shut the door behind him to leave yesterday. No I love you, no hug goodbye. Just a hushed ‘Fine, I’ll text you later’ before he was shutting the door behind him.

It didn’t happen often, only once before, but Mason hated leaving you when you’d had an argument. Especially when he wouldn’t be able to see you until the next day but he was on his way back to you and right now he was trying to rehearse what he wanted to.

I’m sorry

I didn’t mean it

Please forgive me

He missed your face, missed the way your smile would put him at ease and the way your eyes would tell him every emotion you were feeling. In the end he reached into his bag to find his phone so he could flick through his favourite photos of you like usual whenever he missed you but to his surprise, your name was right there on his Lock Screen. He hadn't had much access to his phone since the game had finished and he wasn’t expecting to hear from you but was quick to open his messages and see what you’d said.

The sense of relief overwhelmed him. After your argument Mason assumed you wouldn’t watch the game so you must have just checked the score before messaging. Those two words, love you, were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and the need to hear your voice took over.

Could he call you now? It was maybe a bit risky as some of the boys could possibly overhear him but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he wouldn’t be relentlessly teased for years about how whipped he was, speaking to you was more important. Hitting the call button straight away and after two rings your voice was filtering through into his headphones.

‘Hey Mase, you okay? where are you?’

‘On the train back, we’ve just left’ he told you quietly, looking around to see if anyone was taking any notice but thankfully they weren’t.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t win, baby’

‘That’s okay, these things happen’ he nodded. The sound of your voice already lifting him and he knew he had more to say to you but he wanted to look at you while he did it. ‘Can we FaceTime?’

‘If you want’ you whispered and he could hear you shuffling around as he hit the camera button. It took a few seconds to connect but soon enough your face filled his screen.

You were in bed, he could tell that much, your hair plopped on top of your head in a messy bun as you hated sleeping with it down and his heart jumped as he realised you were wearing one of his shirts. Suddenly feeling nervous at the sight of you as he still couldn’t get over the fact you were his sometimes and as soon as you sent him your signature smile, that overwhelming feeling of love for you consumed him.

You felt like home. And he couldn't wait to get back to you.

‘Hey beautiful’ he whispered, your smile only growing as you got comfy and it hurt him knowing he wasn’t there next to you. To hold you and to kiss you and to tell you just how sorry he was for ever making you as upset as he did yesterday.

‘Hey Mase, you alright?’

‘Yeah sorry, I just needed to see you’ he told you and you gave him an understanding nod. You’d needed to see him just as much as it broke your heart seeing how sad he was on your tv and it was like everything the pair of you had said to each other the day before vanished. ‘I'm sorry for yesterday, i didn’t mean it’

‘Thank you’ you whispered. Trying to keep your voice steady but Mason knew you and it was eating him up how dejected you sounded and knowing it was because of him made it all worse. Your eyes glossy before you looked away with a sniff and it felt like you were taking an axe to his chest right in front of him. ‘I’m sorry too, for how I spoke to you yesterday’

‘Hey no, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for okay? It was all me I was a right dick’ he told you. Your musical laughter ringing through his ears and he knew for a fact he’d never heard anything more beautiful.

He really had been a dick though. Ever since he’d come back from pre-season tour you’d been running around after him like his personal maid and whilst at first he told you to relax and that he wasn’t incapable of helping, he’d grown used to you picking up his slack.

It all came to a head just before he left yesterday though. He was late enough anyway and whilst packing his back he’d left all the stuff he didn’t want all over the floor. A trail of socks cascading across the bedroom and he threw all the fresh washing you’d spent an age folding in any direction he wanted and when you came up to see what all the noise was you were horrified at the sight before you.

‘Oh Mason, it took me ages to fold all that, I do hope you’re gonna tidy this up’

‘Are you joking? I’m late enough as it is already’

‘It’s not my job to pick up after you’ you scoffed, a little seriousness behind your lighthearted joke but he didn’t even seem to acknowledge you and his you were feeling.

‘Well I don’t see you doing much else’ he muttered under his breath and you couldn’t believe what he’d just said. All the breath in your lungs leaving at once but he just carried on as if he haddn’t said anything.

When the pair of you left London to move to Manchester you left everything you knew behind, including your job. Mason constantly told you he would support you with everything, even if that meant never getting a job again and whilst you’d enjoyed your ‘gap year’ as you’d called it, you were ready to get back on the bike and find something that gave your life a little bit more meaning again.

His words had cut through you like knives though. Was he just saying he was fine with you staying at home? It's not like you laid in bed all day wasting away as every day you made sure the house and Mason was properly taken care of and Mason told you that being there for him whilst he was injured had meant a lot to him but now you didn’t know if that was all lies.

You didn’t satisfy him with a response. Simply storming out of your shared bedroom and locking yourself in the main bathroom so he couldn’t get to you but you needn't have worried about that. He didn’t bother trying to find you until he was ready to go around fifteen minutes later and when he slammed his fist in the door a few times you ignored him completely.

‘I’m off, are you coming to say goodbye?’ He called and even though you knew you both hated leaving things on an argument, your pride was hurt and you refused to answer him without some form of apology. ‘Please, y/n. I’m gonna be late’ he tried again but still you sat there on the edge of the bath. Fighting to keep your tears in your eyes as you okayed with your fingers in your lap. ‘Fine, I’ll text you later’ he called out and when you heard the door slam downstairs you finally let your tears free.

He text you later that night as promised but it still wasn’t an apology and you were too hurt to respond so you left it unread. Hoping that it might hit Mason what a dick he’d been but it all went out the window when you’d watched his game earlier. Watching him walk down those stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders broke you and all you wanted to was reassure him things were fine. Texting him as soon as you could but it had taken a few hours for him to be able to get in contact and now you could just about see him and hear his voice you just wanted to tell him to forget all of that but he was insistent on apologising.

‘I’m sorry I’ve not been pulling my weight lately, and I’m sorry for the mess I made yesterday. I’ll clear it up when I’m home’

‘It’s already away, Mase. You didn’t think I’d leave it did you?’ You laughed and the wink he sent you made your tummy flutter.

‘Well then go and mess it up again’ he smiled, making you laugh into the pillow and as much as he loved to see you laugh you knew he had the biggest apology to go. ‘I’m sorry for what I said about you working too. It was the heat of the moment and I was stressed but it’s not an excuse. I’m so sorry gorgeous, you know I don’t think that about you at all’

‘Are you sure?’ You asked. Your voice wobbling as his words had been playing on your mind but you could seen even though the screen how sorry he was.

‘Of course’ he sighed. ‘Please don’t get upset, okay? I’m just a big dumb idiot with no time management skills who can’t control his mouth when he’s in a rush’ he told you. ‘Just wait till I’m home okay? I’m gonna give you a big cuddle. And that’s not just because I need one too’

‘Sorry about the game, Mase’ you pouted. ‘For what it’s worth, I thought you played really well’

‘Wait what?’ He quizzed, his head tilting in confusion. ‘You watched the game?’

‘Of course I did, why wouldn’t I?’

‘I though you wouldn’t want to. Like I’d thought you’d be too annoyed at me’

‘Mase’ you sighed. ‘No matter what, I’m still gonna watch your games okay? Even if we are mad at each other I’m still your number one fan remember. I’m so proud of you and everything you do’

‘I love you’ he whispered tearily. Trying to half hide his face in his hand so you couldn’t see how emotional he was.

‘I love you too Mase’

I can’t wait to get of this fucking train’ he laughed, the frustration clear in his voice and you knew he wanted to be next to you as much as you wanted to be with him.

‘Shall I come meet you at the station? I can get in a cab and wait by your car’

‘No baby it’s okay, I don’t want you waiting out in the dark for me. I’ll be as quick as I can okay. Keep my side warm’

‘Always’ you smiled. ‘I tell you what, I’ve got everything in to make those chocolate covered peanut butter balls you like. I’ll go make you some, yeah? I’m probably draining all your data with this call’

‘I don’t care’ he chucked. Not ready to let you go but he knew he should. Some of the boys were waking up and he didn’t need them listening in so with a few kisses and a long goodbye you both hung up the phone but felling a lot lighter and happier on either end.

Mason heard Sancho turning in his seat before his face popped up above the head rest in front of him. A stupid grin on his face and Mason knew instantly he’d heard every word he’d said.

‘That was pure cinema my man. Made notes and everything’ he chuckled. ‘The art of apologising by Mason Mount’

‘Get fucked, bro’ Mason laughed. Not even caring that he’d been caught. He just wanted you be back in your arms.

[sanatomis]

⋆.ೃ࿔* ── 𝐃𝐈𝐘-𝐃𝐀𝐃!

it’s career day, and megumi has to bring his dad to school so he can tell the class about his job. the problem? he only has a 20-year-old sorcerer-guardian who has the brain capacity of a walnut.

content. canon divergence (suguru’s alive and studying to be a kindergarten teacher), possible ooc characters, female!reader.

notes. guys i’m a sucker for satoru who really, really tries and isn’t just a goofy man-child ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ also ! thank you all for your patience, it took me a while to finish this piece bc of uni, so i'm vv happy it's finally done <3

taglist. | masterlist.

“I don’t have a dad.” 

As cruel as it may be, a part of Megumi hopes that the sentence makes his teacher greatly uncomfortable. Demanding for a father to attend a Career Day at school simply isn’t fair to children without one—or, well, to the child without one. It’s not his fault his father hauled ass and left, so why is she making this so difficult for him? 

“Oh,” she mumbles. It seems his arrow hit the target, as her eyebrows pull together in a frown and she shifts her weight between her feet. “Well, you, uh, have a male guardian, don’t you?”

Megumi grimaces. Instantly, he thinks back to last week. Satoru Gojo, self-proclaimed strongest, had hit his head on a kitchen cabinet. With a dramatic pout and an overexaggerated wobble to his lips, he clung to you for hours. Some affection will make it all better!

Of course, when Megumi criticised his skills surrounding his infinity technique—because, really, how couldn’t it block a simple cabinet—the sorcerer opted to ignore him. He suspects there was some foul play at hand. 

“Barely,” he mutters, as the memory resurfaces. 

His teacher lets out a startled hum. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Megumi says quickly. He watches as she starts typing on her computer, and the realisation that she’s probably currently taking a look at his file isn’t a particularly welcome one. “What about my other guardian? Can I bring her, instead?”

“This event is geared towards fathers,” she explains. It’s obvious she forgot her reading glasses today, Megumi thinks, as she needs to narrow her eyes to read the screen in front of her. “I have one Satoru Gojo noted down as your male guardian. Surely, he will be able to attend.” 

Megumi pauses. He blinks up at her expressionlessly, and fights off the urge to push his teacher down a well. You often preach about being kind to others, and that wouldn’t be very kind. 

“Can’t I take my oth—”

“I’m afraid not,” she interrupts him before he even gets the sentence out. It irks him. Megumi isn’t fond of speaking to begin with, so when he does, he’d prefer not to be cut off halfway through. “An exception will not be made. Please, make sure to bring Gojo-san to school.” 

Megumi briefly, and for the very first time ever, mourns the fact that you and Satoru weren’t married. A small part of him calls the man a coward for not asking you to. If he’d simply taken the step, then Megumi would be able to pass you off as Gojo-san. Unfortunately, he can’t, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that there’s no way around this problem. 

“Fine,” he grumbles. It takes all of his remaining willpower to not stomp out of the classroom. Once again, he thinks of you. It’d be extremely bad manners. He can’t find it in himself to wish his teacher a nice day this time, though, and so she’ll have to make due with a slightly less polite Megumi for today. 

There’s nothing he can do about it. Satoru will have to come to the school. 

Megumi suddenly despises the idea of Career Day. 

“I need you to come to my school next week.” 

Immediately, all chatter around the dining table stops. For once, Megumi finds himself annoyed at the sudden appearance of silence. Before he said it, he knew his words would most likely have such an effect—he just didn’t expect it to be so instant. 

He tries his best to feign nonchalance, as if the topic that’s coming up didn’t make him feel stressed-out beyond belief. The confused, startled glances you and Satoru share don’t do much to help him, either. Perhaps it’s because Megumi is looking straight at him; him instead of you. Yeah, Satoru, he isn’t a fan of it, either. 

“Me?” The man asks then, and Megumi has to resist the urge to say, ‘no, I meant the snail in the backyard—yes, you,’ in the most sarcastic voice he can muster up. Satoru once again steals a look at you, ever so oblivious to Megumi's mental remarks. “Don’t you mean—” 

“I don’t,” Megumi cuts him off solemnly. His lips are pursed shut, and he pokes the slices of pork belly in his bowl with his chopsticks. One didn’t need to be of particularly high intelligence to notice the boy’s displeasure.  “I have to bring a male figure for Career Day.” 

It’s slow, the morphing of Satoru’s face, but it happens gradually and doesn’t stop until he’s positively beaming. Megumi doesn’t like it one bit. Nothing good happens when he looks like that, and he’s quite sure that all that will spew out of his mouth in a few seconds will be nothing except for pure nonsense. 

“Well, luckily, I will have the day off, then!” Satoru chimes, with a smile so wide it causes two dimples to appear on his cheeks. You copy his smile, and gently go to poke the little dent in his skin—Satoru lets you, as he always does. Megumi would think of it as cute if he weren’t so annoyed. “I will be there.” 

It seems he was right. Satoru’s words are pure nonsense.

“I didn’t tell you when,” he comments dryly. 

The sorcerer blinks. His smile is still on his face, but it’s fading, and the dimples do so with it. Your hand hovers halfway in the air, stuck with nothing to poke, and you slowly bring it back down to your side. It seems neither of you had taken time to think about that small fact—Megumi blames Satoru for dragging you down with him; him and those indentations in his cheek that you always seem to coo over. 

“Oh,” Satoru mumbles. A crease between his brows forms as his brain hurries to catch up with the newfound information. A few seconds pass, and then the previous bravado returns. “Well, it doesn’t matter! I can take the day off. When do you need me? Tell me, and I’ll be there.” 

Megumi very much doubts he can take days off all willy-nilly like that, especially after he pushed his workload onto someone else to attend his science fair last time, but then again, what does he know? If Satoru didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, then Megumi wasn’t about to break his own head doing so, either. 

“Next Friday,” he mumbles. From the tone of his voice, it’s quite clear that he’d rather be saying anything else. “We have to leave at eight a.m., please, be on time.”

“Sure thing!” Satoru chimes, and with that, Megumi thinks the dreaded conversation has finally come to an end. 

All in all—it could’ve gone worse. At least Satoru didn’t prolong it unnecessarily. Nor did he add a bunch of relentless teasing. He glances at the sorcerer. Satoru is happily munching on the dinner you’d prepared, both his cheeks stuffed full with entirely too much rice. It’s unbecoming, and a reflection of his poor manners, Megumi thinks, and he doesn’t understand how you look at the man with such hearts in your eyes. 

Though, your more than adequate cooking seems to have saved him from one of Satoru’s onslaughts. He’s grateful. Even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy the sight in front of him. 

“Hey, ‘toru?” You ask, breaking the silence with a slight hesitation to your voice. It nearly sounds nervous, and both Megumi and Tsumiki look up in alarm. Satoru hums, still chewing away. “What are you going to tell the class?”

Satoru stops eating. His chewing comes to a halt, and his chopsticks freeze in the air. A slice of pork drops from between them, and falls back into his bowl—It’s not hard to see the cogs turning in his head. “Uhm, I. . .” He swallows the food still in his mouth, and clears his throat. 

Right. It’s Career Day—but Satoru can’t tell a bunch of seven to eight-year-olds that he hunts and kills grimy, ugly, and freakishly scary curses for a living, now, can he? Megumi doesn’t think that would go over well with the other parents. The boy sighs. It’s just one thing after another. He grimly believes the world might just be out to get him. 

“I. . .Oh! I can tell them I’m a teacher,” his guardian scrambles for a solution, and Megumi can’t help but think it’s a little lack-lustre. Who would believe that guy is a teacher, anyway? Then again. . .Megumi doesn’t know a better fix for their current problem, either. He was so focused on the fact that it was Satoru that had to come to the school, he all but forgot about the fact that the dear thorn-in-his-side didn’t possess a normal job. “Suguru has told me a thing or two about his internship. I can take inspiration from there.”

Ah, yes. The famed Suguru Geto. Megumi has met him before. He hasn’t actually spoken to him, however. The man often visits, and has twin girls clinging to him when he does, and while Tsumiki seems to really like him—and them—Megumi doesn’t have an interest in seeking out some form of interaction, yet. Whenever he comes over, Megumi opts to hide in his room. Suguru never tries to disturb him, nor does he try to coax him into coming out. He’s very grateful for it. 

So, despite never speaking to him, Megumi knows about Suguru. Well, he knows enough. He knows Suguru went to school with the two of you, and he knows something really, very bad (nearly) happened that caused the man to take a step back from the world you all live in. What exactly happened (or what didn’t happen), Megumi doesn’t know for sure. You and Satoru almost never speak about it, and when you do, it’s in hushed voices—and you always stop immediately when he enters the room. 

But that’s okay. He doesn’t need to know. Suguru doesn’t force himself upon Megumi, and so he will extend him the same courtesy.  “I thought Geto-san wasn’t a teacher, yet?” Tsumiki speaks up from beside him, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Mimi and Nana said he’s still learning. How can he be teaching, already?” 

“He’s not a teacher, yet, munchkin, well spotted,” Satoru answers with a proud grin. The nickname annoys Megumi—the feeling of irritation has been conditioned into his very being after Satoru chose it as the designated nickname for both of them. “An internship helps him build experience in the field. It means he is still learning, but he will do so while teaching.”

Tsumiki nods in understanding, her mouth opens and her lips curl into a small ‘ah’ as the information settles in. “So, you will pretend to be a teacher, then? At Megumi’s school?”

Satoru bites on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. Seemingly—as Megumi is quite convinced he doesn’t ever think before he speaks. “I think so, yes,” he explains, and unknowingly retorates Megumi’s train of thoughts. How annoying. Satoru looks towards you for approval; it’s something he does very often. “It’s probably the safest route, no?”

“It’s our best option,” you say, and bring a thumb up to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. Gently, you wipe away a grain of rice stuck to his skin. It’s effortless, and nearly automated. Megumi wonders how many times you’ve had to do that. “Pretending to be a teacher shouldn’t be too difficult a task. Right, mochi?”

“Right,” Satoru echoes. His eyes track your every move, and the slight, pink colouring of his cheeks doesn’t seem to embarrass him even a little bit. Megumi thinks it should. Have some decorum. “I can do it, no problem.” 

“Alright then,” you say, and smile. First at Satoru, and then at Megumi. You look at the boy for a few seconds; you’re about to ask him if he’s okay with it. He knows you are, because you always do. “Is that okay for you, Megumi?” It’s like clockwork, almost. 

Megumi feels the need to answer with something snarky. Something akin to the sound of ‘What choice do I have?’ but he doesn’t—because you’re being kind, and you don’t deserve such a response. So, instead he turns towards Satoru.

“. . .Just don’t mess it up.” 

Satoru delivers a whole spiel about how ‘he’d never do that’ and that he’s ‘more than capable’ of telling a little white lie, but Megumi dilutes it to background noise rather quickly. He continues sputtering his nonsense when Megumi and Tsumiki stand up to clear the table, and still hasn’t stopped even when you and him start loading the dishwasher together—Megumi chooses to seek reprieve in his room while he’s distracted. 

It isn’t until many hours later, when Megumi leaves the sanctuary of his room to swipe a quick snack from the kitchen, that he first hears Satoru speak about something other than his great, and very much sufficient, ‘capabilities’. Your voices are muffled, and Megumi has to focus to make out your words. His soft, inaudible padding down the illuminated hallways comes to a halt. As if that would make his ears function better. 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Satoru?”

The boy frowns. With such gentleness in your voice, it’s hard to identify the worry lingering beneath the surface. Megumi moves a bit closer. He stops one step shy of bumping into the wooden surface, and peeks through the groove. The door is ajar—it’s something that allows him to watch how your eyes follow Satoru’s large frame as he paces around the room. It’s strange. Seeing him so. . .frazzled. 

Satoru nods. “I can do this, I know I can,” he says, and quits his pacing to look at you. Megumi can’t see his face, but he can see yours. He might as well not have, though, as he can’t make out the emotion that fills your eyes. It’s not one he himself has in his repertoire, that he knows for sure. “He never asks me for anything, princess. I have to do this right.” 

Ah, this isn’t a conversation Megumi is meant to hear. He should probably seize his eavesdropping, he thinks, and winces a little when he properly analyses Satoru’s words. They’re truthful. Megumi doesn’t go to him when he needs something. His first thought is to go to you—and his second, Tsumiki. And if he’s being honest anyway, his third thought very likely isn’t Satoru, either; He’d try to solve it on his own if it came down to it. Megumi frowns again. He doesn’t like how that realisation makes him feel. 

A careful shuffle of footsteps breaks him free from his thoughts. Megumi looks up, and catches how you place a hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do great, baby,” you mumble. There’s a small, soft smile on your lips, one that quickly makes way for the peck Satoru places upon them. 

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers. One of his hands reaches for yours, and Megumi suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something when the man brings them up to his lips to press a tender kiss to them. Okay, no, definitely intruding—ew. 

The boy scrunches his nose up in disgust, and hurriedly darts back towards his room. Suddenly, he has lost his appetite for a late-evening snack. Megumi lets out a deep sigh once he’s all tucked into his sheets again. Perhaps giving Satoru a shot wouldn’t be that big of a problem. Just one, though.

. . .Yeah, just one should be enough.

It’s the final, conclusive thought Megumi has before dozing off to sleep. Blissfully unaware of the conversation you and Satoru share—now behind a very closed door.

You stifle a giggle. The disappearance of Megumi’s presence outside your bedroom was quick and rampant as soon as Satoru started to kiss your hands. Something the sorcerer did very deliberately. It’s as if the boy suddenly forgot about the very special, very effective pair of eyes his guardian possesses. And with a cursed energy output such as Megumi’s, it would be hard not to recognise his presence.

“You did that on purpose,” you comment. “How cruel of you, mochi.”

Satoru hums, and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Maybe, the little brat shouldn’t eavesdrop, then,” he defends himself. There isn’t an inkling of guilt to be seen on his pretty face.

. . .Though, both of you still take some extra care to shut the door next time.

Megumi faithfully believes that, as of today, he has used-up all of his luck for the next five, no, ten years. It can only go downhill from here. For some inexplicable, mind-boggling reason—Satoru is actually pulling this off. That’s not all; he’s not merely winging it, he’s genuinely doing well. The boy can’t quite believe his eyes.

When he’d walked to the front with such an overexaggerated pep in his step, and an overabundance of bravado rolling off of him in waves—Megumi couldn’t help but watch on with a grim look, and a healthy dose of negative thoughts. It only amplified the nerves he’d collected so far during the walk to school. Somehow, watching Satoru give your flashcards a frantic do-over did very little to ease his bubbling anxiety.

There were many of them, flashcards that is. All possible questions his peers or his teacher could ever think of are written on those little pieces of cardboard. Courtesy of you, and your boyfriend. Megumi’s able to recall all those nights the two of you spend at the kitchen table—practising. He thought it was silly at the time.

But, as it turns out, it works.

Satoru is fun. To other people; Megumi doesn’t share the sentiment. Against all odds, he’s dynamic, and speaks with conviction. His flamboyant hand gestures have others think of them as amusing—captivating, even. Satoru is talking, and they’re all hanging onto his every word. No matter the fact that they’re all cleverly disguised lies.

Megumi can’t wrap his head around it. He doesn’t need to, however. If anything, he’s relieved that his peers think of his guardian as cool. While he certainly does not share the opinion, he isn’t too dense to admit that such a belief will save him a lot of embarrassment in the future. So, for this one, single day, he will let Satoru Gojo be cool. His snarky comments can resume tomorrow.

“Ah, it seems you have a deep love for your profession, Gojo-san,” his teacher says. She interrupts Satoru’s rant, and catches his attention as well as Megumi’s. Her voice is light and airy, and carries nothing that should cause him to fear the worst. Still, the boy feels on edge. “Though, I don’t remember the grade you are teaching. Could you tell us, again?”

Ah, and there it goes. The very first card in the elaborately built castle of lies.

Satoru pauses. A second passes, and then two, and three, and so on. He doesn’t speak for a good thirty, and Megumi can nearly see his mind leaf through his beloved flashcards—flashcards that are now neatly tucked into his pockets and entirely out of reach. That’s good. Because the absolute last thing Satoru should do now, is resort back to the flashcards.

Megumi shakes his head no as a signal.

“Ah,” Satoru says. “I teach kindergarten.”

Satoru didn’t catch the hint. Megumi wishes the ground would swallow him up. It would have been the correct answer—it is the answer that’s written on the flashcards—if Satoru hadn’t decided to go off route. Getting too caught up in the story he’d been free-writing, and allowing himself to get carried away by the looks of awe is resulting in his downfall, which, consecutively, will end with Megumi’s downfall, as well.

“Huh? But! What about the science experiment that exploded?” One of the children in his class whines. “I didn’t get to do that in kindergarten!”

“And the backflip you taught your students!”

“What about the first prize in the talent show? I thought your students were famous!”

The little bit of colour that normally resides in Satoru’s face steadily disappears, and he clenches his fist at his side. Ah, it���s great to know he’s at least aware of his mistake. That won’t help either of them at the moment, though. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, and a feeling of distress overtakes him. It shows on his face. He doesn’t exactly go through the trouble of trying to hide it—there are bigger problems right now.

How utterly humiliating to be caught lying.

Satoru’s eyes find him. They’re just as troubled as his own. It worsens his anxiety.

“Oh, uhm, you see. . .” Satoru stammers, and Megumi’s stomach churns when the children around them continue to ask more and more questions. The wince his guardian lets out does little to soothe him. Megumi sighs, and looks at the ground. “Ah, I see. It seems you guys saw right through me.”

Megumi slides down in his seat. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, the ground would absorb him. It’s currently looking like a preferable fate.

“. . .I’m actually a detective.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“And. . .And for a detective, it’s very important to listen to what people say, because they could be lying!”

It’s a sad, pathetic excuse for a save. Megumi briefly ponders the distance between his seat and the door. Perhaps he could make a run for it. The subway station is very close by—getting on and travelling to an entirely new city to start a new life doesn’t seem like such a bad option. He sighs. No, that’s not possible. You and Tsumiki would be very worried. What else is there to do, though?

“You all picked up on my lie, which tells me every single one of you could make a great detective in the future.”

Megumi thinks Satoru might have some underlying mental problems. Though, they can’t possibly be as severe as the problems his classmates have—for they all believe the nonsense he’s giving them. Bright eyes, filled with hope and admiration, stare up at the man at the front of the class; impressed hums and entertained smiles get passed between the parents standing at the edge of the room. And Satoru, well, he seems entirely too proud of the fact that he made a bunch of children think they’re destined for a career in law enforcement. But, be that as it may, it works.

The children stir up unrest—the good kind this time, the kind that vocalises their excitement—and all rush to ask the detective a question. But, before they can even open their mouths, Satoru claps his hands together. It seems he has decided enough is enough, and it’s one of those very rare moments where Megumi agrees with him. The boy needs this to be over already.

“Alright, that’s it for today,” Satoru says, and feigns disappointment. He pretends to be affected by the sad groans of the children—keyword being pretend, as to the trained eye it’s quite clear that he wishes to leave. “I’m not allowed to tell you more.”

Ah, see, now that’s a good card.

“Wait, but, what about. . .”

“Ah, sorry, that’s confidential. Detective stuff, y’know?”

Confidential. Megumi thinks that might just be his new favourite word. The lingering feeling of anxiety slowly starts to subside with every step Satoru takes towards the back of the room—to the back, and away from the spotlight. His eyes follow the man’s large frame, but Satoru never chooses to look at him in return. His line of sight is firmly focused on the floor. It confuses Megumi, but he chalks it up to a mere whim.

All things considered (and minus the near cardiac arrest he went through), today went pretty well, after all. Much to his surprise.

Perhaps Megumi doesn’t hate Career Day. A strong dislike is more like it.

Megumi can’t count the times he wished for Satoru to be quiet. The exact number is much like the digits of Pi—huge, and absolutely never-ending. He can, however, count the times he didn’t wish for him to be quiet. As of today, that stands at a very solid one.

The birds around them chirp, and the bustle of other people is heard all around them—but they’re the only sounds gracing his ears. There is none of Satoru’s incessant chatter, nor is there even a glimmer of gloating about a job well-done. It’s eerily silent, and Megumi isn’t sure what to make of it. This isn’t quite how he imagined the walk home to go. Far from it, if he’s being honest.

“What’s up with you?”

It’s possibly the first time Megumi decides to break the silence, ever. The boy frowns, and fiddles with the straps of his backpack. There isn’t a middle-ground with Satoru, he has found out. Either he speaks entirely too much, or unnervingly little. There’s a tiny pebble in his path, and Megumi feels the need to kick it forward—so he does.

“I kind of messed up there, huh?”

The kick doesn’t have nearly enough force to it. Megumi watches as the little rock skips forward. Once, twice, and then it comes to a standstill again. “Yeah, kind of,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru rushes out. It’s said so fast, as if it physically pains him to say it. Perhaps it does. It’s sincere, however. There isn’t even a hint of a joke to be found. Something must be bothering him. “It didn’t go how I wanted it to go, and I don’t know why I went astray, and forgot about the cards. It—well, it was pretty stupid.”

Megumi doesn’t exactly feel the need to deny it.

“So, I get it, okay?” He continues, seeing the boy’s silence as an empty space for more conversation—more rambling. Since that’s what it is; rambles, plain and simple. Megumi doesn’t see the need for such a fuss. “I shouldn’t have strayed from the plan, and. . .”

“It’s fine.”

Satoru blinks at him. “What?”

“I said it’s fine,” Megumi repeats. Because it really is fine. Admittedly, it wasn’t smart of Satoru to all but discard your carefully planned presentation, but it ended well enough regardless. No harm, no foul. “Thank you for coming.”

That small, short sentence is enough to stop Satoru in his tracks. Megumi doesn’t, however. The man is very tall, he’s sure to catch up in a jiffy; he doesn’t need him to wait. There’s another small silence, though this one feels a lot more comfortable than the last. Satoru takes his time to process, and Megumi lets him.

“W—What?” The sorcerer stammers in shock. There is no need for Megumi to turn around and see—he can hear the smile curling onto his lips. “Did you just. . .”

“I won’t say it again,” Megumi grumbles definitively, and picks up his pace. The very tips of his ears heat up, and the apples of his cheeks turn red. The feeling of embarrassment. This wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned it to appear when the day started.

Satoru attempts to run after him, to catch up. “Megumi!” He calls out, the very prominent, very familiar whiney lilt now back in his voice. Megumi didn’t miss it. “Wait for me, I didn’t hear you! Could you repeat that?”

“Yes, you did!” Megumi says, and throws him an annoyed glance from over his shoulder. He tightens his hold on the straps of his backpack. “Stop lying.”

“Nuh uh!”

“What are you? Six?”

Satoru’s toothy grin is infuriating. But—it’s familiar. And Megumi discovers he’s much more at ease when that grin is on display, than when the man in question is moping around. It’s a lot less alarming.

“And a half,” Satoru adds.

The scowl that’s on Megumi’s face appears almost instantly when he goes to ruffle his hair. For a man whose technique largely surrounds being untouchable, he has a surprising lack of awareness concerning this thing called personal space.

“Ugh,” Megumi groans, and pushes him off. It doesn’t work. Satoru gravitates towards him again—almost as if he’s a magnet. He doesn’t attempt to move a second time. In moments like these, it’s best to let Satoru get it all out of his system. “You’re so stupid.”

It’s true. He does think Satoru is stupid, but he can’t deny it—Satoru tried his very best today, and in the days prior. Which makes him one of the very small, barely existent group of people who have done so for him.

It seems one shot was enough, after all.

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

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[amsznn]

2,000 MILES TO NONE⋆⭒˚.⋆

part 1 — part 2 here

in which you surprise your bf matt in L.A.

A/N: TYSM for all the love on my last post, def did not expect it but im glad you guys enjoyed the hc’s! chris and nick versions coming soon!

warnings: none, just fluff.

-

“hey guys.” you softly spoke into the camera while swinging your legs off the side of your bed. “today’s vlog is gonna be a bit different since im going to be visiting matt in L.A.”

ever since your boyfriend had moved to L.A. to pursue his growing career, your life back at home has felt empty. matt usually visits frequently, but this time was different. you had been apart for close to 4 months. so you took it upon yourself to plan a surprise visit with his brother, nick’s help.

“only nick knows since im pretty sure chris would tell matt by now.” you laugh while placing the camera down on your vanity. “but yeah, im gonna go get ready, call an uber to the airport, then see you guys there!” you waved at the camera before shutting it off and making your way to your bathroom.

while doing your skincare, you couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous about seeing your boyfriend. sure you guys call often and facetime almost every night, but nothing can compare to his actual presence near you.

you’re snapped out of your daze when you hear your phone vibrating on the counter beside you. you go to reach for it and see the screen lit up with the contact name “matty b 💌.” you answered the call and was met with your boyfriend’s raspy morning voice.

“good morning love.”

“hey baby, how’d you sleep?” you asked while turning the sink on to remove the left over serum on your hand. you could hear shuffling on the other side of the phone before matt answered, “good, but i miss you.”

you smiled with the knowledge of your little secret, but tried to sound just as upset too. “i miss you too, any plans for today?”

“yeah, i think i’m going out with chris today, just not sure where. what about you?” matt asked, secretly wishing he could just stay on the phone with you forever, or even better, be with you.

“im going out with a couple of friends today so i may not be able to talk much, i have to get ready now actually.” you lied coming up with an excuse as to why you wouldn’t be answering and instead be on a plane ride right to him.

“oh okay, well call me before you go to bed. love you, baby.”

“love you more.” you hung up the call and made your way to the shower so you wouldn’t miss your flight.

after all your side quests, you finally made it to the airport. about an hour passed before you finally heard your gate number be called for departure. you quickly sent nick a text before boarding the plane. before you left the house you made sure to shut off your location sharing with matt (which he was definitely suspicious about), but paid no mind to it now since your whole body was erupting with anticipation.

finally,

you would see him.

-

you double checked your seat to see if you left anything behind before making your way out of the plane.

upon opening your phone while waiting for your luggage, you saw plenty of text messages and notifications. some left by matt, and some left by nick. nick was letting you know the coast would be clear at their house for two hours since matt and chris went out which was perfect. you click out of nick’s messages, but not before sending him a quick text about being on your way. you didn’t bother looking at matt’s messages since you were going to see him anyways.

“hey guys, i am now in california.” you said making sure to vlog the experience. “i’m waiting for the uber now, pretty sure i’ll be at the triplets house in half an hour?”

while explaining further details, your uber pulled up and you ended the segment of your vlog there. in a matter of time, you would be in your boyfriend’s grasp.

-

“nick hurry, im outside!” you spoke into the phone, scanning the area for matt’s car just in case he decided to come home early. your camera was out making sure to get the footage for your viewers.

you could hear shuffling behind the door before it revealed your best friend, nick. “y/n, seriously i missed you so much.” nick said while embracing you in a hug before you could even get into the house. besides missing your boyfriend, you also missed nick and chris deeply. the three of you had formed such a tight friendship that it was hard to see them all leave.

“i missed you more nick.” you smiled, tears threatening to drop, but you refused, you could cry later. “say hi to the vlog.” you said while facing the camera towards nick. he smiled before greeting your viewers while bringing your luggage into his room.

“okay so matt and chris should be here in like 15 minutes, so im thinking you hide in here until further notice.” nick explained and you complied. you both took this time to catch up on everything you’ve missed while being apart, and including some funny footage into your vlog. before you knew it, you could hear the jingling of matt’s key’s before the front door opened. nick brought his finger to his lips and whispered, “come out whenever you’re ready.” before leaving his room to go greet his brothers.

you stood behind the door with your camera recording and facing you. a smile painted your face as you could hear matt’s voice faintly. “have you guys heard from y/n?” he asked his brothers.

“no, why?” nick asked trying to sound normal. “she said she was going out with her friends, then turned her location off. weird right?” matt explained before heading to the fridge to grab a soda.

“super weird.” nick agreed. then chris chimed in saying, “i ‘dunno, last thing she sent me was a fucking deer tiktok.”

matt took a sip of his soda before saying, “i just hope she’s alright.”

upon hearing this, you looked at your camera frowning at the thought of worrying your boyfriend for this long. you thought this was the best moment, so you quietly opened nick’s door and slowly made your way down the stairs.

luckily for you, matt was faced away from you, but chris’ jaw immediately fell open. you quickly made the ‘shush’ motion with your hand but it was too late since matt noticed his brother’s expression before turning his head around.

you smiled while standing at the foot of the stairs before saying, “surprise.”

matt quickly dropped his soda and made his way over to you before engulfing you in the biggest hug ever. his head found it’s way to the crook of your neck, with his arms swirling tightly around your waist. you gestured for chris to grab the camera before you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s neck.

it wasn’t long until your shoulder was soaked with matt’s tears, and his soaked with yours. you laughed at the realization of finally being in his arms. the security you felt upon being in matt’s arms could compare to no other. being apart for so long only made your love for each other stronger as you both strived to wait it out until you’d finally reunite again.

to finally be with your person.

“i missed you so much, so so much.” matt croaked into your neck, not ready to let you out of his grasp, feeling as if you’ll be back in boston if he did. you smiled before wiping your tears with your free hand.

“i missed you more.”

-

A/N: yall should i do a part two of this with y/n in L.A.? lmk, and leave some requests for me to write!

[spitdrunken]

Vox x Reader Relationship Headcanons

This post contains SPOILERS in the sense that it is based off of the version of Vox as presented in episode 2. None of the actual plot points featured within are discussed. notes: background vox x valentino / polyamory (reader only dates vox), extremely unhealthy relationships, stalking, manipulation, hypnosis, power imbalance. kidnapping + physical abuse mention (neither done by vox)

To catch the eye of a demon as powerful as Vox is not an ideal situation. While he could be considered more levelheaded than your average demon, and certainly is when compared to his associates, he still has things that rile him up like no other. No, he doesn’t have a whole string of sexual partners to use and abuse like Valentino does, but that makes the weight of his gaze all the more crushing when it does fall upon someone.

Once you’ve got his interest, it’s practically impossible to slip away from him. He’s got vantage points all across the Pride Ring, being able to slip in and out of its many scattered screens with ease. While the usual tracking Vox Media subjects its customers to is already an invasion of privacy, yours would be on a whole other level.

With how inescapable his company is amongst Sinner demons, it’s more than likely you’ve at least got some kind of device he’d be able to peer into. As soon as your phone is being plugged into a port, he’d be skimming through your messages and search history. Though your face-to-face meetings might have been minimal or non-existent at this point, he would already know far more about you than most of your friends. …You should really clear out your search history more often. But, hey, he’s not unhappy about it! There’s no traces of his presence as soon as he’s done.

Vox cares a great deal about his reputation and image. Not only because he’s the very face of a high-earning brand, but it is also simply the kind of person he is. Whereas someone like Valentino might have gone right ahead and shot any possible partner in the head, Vox is much more careful than that. What would people think, if he simply went around and started electrocuting a bunch of unknowns to death? No, that’s just not his way of doing things whatsoever.

Even besides that, there’s also much more satisfaction in it, to him, to convince you to leave them and join him, of your own accord. Vox has always been the brain behind all operations, the meticulous and thoughtful one, the one who got investors on board and appeared in interviews. In other words, he’s become quite good with words, and can easily come off as charming whenever he so wishes. That is exactly the way he will present himself to you, at least at first: a demon unlike other demons, practically a gentleman.

You wouldn’t have known him from his early days, the time where he still made mistakes, and nobody knew his name. When he invites you over for dinner (through an email that you’re convinced is fake spam, the first couple of times you receive it), he wants to appear nothing but infallible and powerful to you. You, who is only familiar with him through screens, as a flawless news presenter, gameshow host, and much more. A smile would never leave his screen, and he is constantly courteous.

He’s got a couple of expensive gifts at the ready as well, ones that hail from his own company. Perhaps it’s the newest iteration in his own line of phones, or a brand-new kind of security system. He’ll wave off any kind of dismissal of his gift, telling to just take it, you don’t even know how many of those he has lying around! Trust him. (In fact, they are modified to grant him even more easy access into your life. A constant stream of information directed at him, with Vox never even having to enter your device anymore.)

In a place like the Pride Ring in Hell, existence is demeaning at best, and utterly miserable at worst, for the average demon. Vox is more than aware of this and, at first, doesn’t even try his absolute best to sweep you off your feet. The power and the safety net someone such as himself would provide would be more than enough for most people. For the average demon, time spent by his side would be a vast improvement, and no one can deny that.

And, in this case, he is most likely interested in someone with far less power than him: you. Whether actively aware of it or not, and if he was, he’d never admit it, a part of Vox desires to be with someone from whom affection comes more easily. And that is… Not Valentino. Not that he’d ever separate from him, mind you, you’d simply be the antithesis to him. If you aren’t, he’ll make you something closer to that.

One of the largest drawbacks that immediately becomes noticeable, is the political target spending time around Vox makes you. Whether he purposefully makes the two of you appear in Hell’s largest tabloid, or only goes someplace where the two of you are sure to be spotted, you’ll surely become a demon worthy of kidnapping after this. It is exactly this, and the fear that comes along with it, that Vox would weaponize against you.

Wouldn’t it be much better, and safer, to stay in one of the company’s buildings? You’re bound to get kidnapped anywhere else, you know. He’s just looking out for you! Really though, he’d never let something like that happened to you. Not only because such an occurence would cause his reputation to take a great hit, but also because he cares! The praises he heaps on top of you are never outright lies, though some are perhaps exaggerated. He wouldn’t spend so much time on a demon he wasn’t genuinely interested in.

Vox, to the vast majority of people, would come on too strong, and too fast. The kind of attention that comes from someone who hasn’t been denied anything in a long time. At the same time, underneath his collected demeanor, seen in his stalking and meticulous collection of information, there is something that could be seen as a glimmer of desperation.

One might stop and think that, if he truly were as capable and faultless as he makes himself out to be, why would he go through all of this trouble? Wouldn’t simply being himself, or something rather close to it, be enough? This is truly where the heart of the issue, his deeply-hidden insecurity, shines through. Besides just the way the thought of being rejected by you upsets him, as well as he tries to hide it, he can’t simply back out, now that he’s spent so much time around you. He’d never live it down.

If, for some reason, ‘diplomacy’ and his usual wooing doesn’t work… He’s an Overlord for a reason. He still has plenty of tricks left up his sleeve. He can manipulate any digital image he wants, including video, without ever touching editing software. Vox can show you the people closest to you saying outright brutal things about you, with their exact mannerisms and voice. All data gathered through the various devices of his he owns, then capable of creating replicas. In a limited way, he can bend reality to his will.

If even that doesn’t work, he has his powers of hypnosis as a last resort. In this case, he doesn’t like having to use them, would have preferred the satisfaction over getting you to fawn over him all on your own… But it’s just so much easier to plant a little trigger inside your brain. For him to snap his fingers, and have you become more agreeable. Your thoughts growing that tiniest bit hazier, your head the slightest bit heavier.

All you have to do is look into his eyes, and take a deep breath… That’s better, isn’t it? What were you even getting so upset about before, huh? (And again, hypnosis is a last resort here. He’s spent so many years dealing with Valentino’s temper tantrums that he’s an expert at diffusing any kind of argument, and nothing surprises anymore.)

Vox wouldn’t be likely to physically hurt you at all. He sees himself as being capable of more self-control than that, even when in the throes of jealousy. Really, the one you should be most afraid of during this entire ordeal is Valentino. While their relationship is by no means monogamous, and it never will be, he’s still used to being the center of attention. He uses violence and unpredictability to have Vox, largely, at his every beck and call. While Vox isn’t used to having denied things, Valentino’s is many times worse about it.

Initially, he ignores you. Designating you as some kind of fling, not even worthy of being one of his whores, soon ready to be forgotten. Vox doesn’t do those kinds of things all that often but, hey, anything’s bound to happen with an eternity of time to kill, right? It’s only when you become a more permanent fixture in their life that he really becomes more of a threat.

He’ll let his temper cut loose, specifically during times where the two of you are spending time together, causing mayhem around the company. If Vox’s attention is entirely unwanted, this may even be a welcome reprieve for you. Still, Valentino being jealous of you should be about the last thing you want. Frankly, it makes you liable to get shot on a bad day, or because of a poorly worded comment.

…Perhaps it would be better to stay close to Vox, then.

[eatmekaneki]

His Obsession

18+

✖︎Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x fem!reader

✖︎Word count: 4.8k

✖︎Warnings: smut; noncon; dubcon; k!dnapping; Kn!feplay; blo*d; manipulation; yandere themes; izuku is a yandere; all characters are aged 18+

✖︎A/n: I have a prompt list with random themes and characters I spin a wheel for and this prompt landed on Izuku Midoriya and knife play! So here we go!

Izuku had been on his own a bit too long now. He’d been on a job in your city tracking a trail of criminal activity that had led him straight to you.

Wanted posters with your face plastered on them were hung across the walls of his dark and sad rental studio apartment.

He had maps everywhere with leads and sticky notes. Pins and strings were winding across them all in multicolored webs pointing to spots across the city you’d been linked to.

He knew the danger you posed to him especially.

Your quirk was a mind manipulation type. It made you drive men mad with lust. As far as the hero’s knew, you were able to do this through something like a telekinetic ability but to activate it, your whole body would break out into a blush. That was the only things he’d been told about you, other than that you’ve been using your charms to rob and manipulate people across your large city. No one quite knew the range of your powers, or if someone even looking at you through a screen could be affected.

Cursing under his breath he picked up a photograph of you that one of his informants had been able to get him and looked it over. You might have already been a problem for him even without your power.

He looked around the room at all of the other photos of you he’d gathered over the past couple months. The photos hanging by his bed were zoomed in on different body parts of yours; lips, legs, shoulders, fingers, eyes…one where your plaid yellow skirt had almost blown up in the wind.

He pinned the new photo up on his living room wall and put a new red string across to a second pin to mark on the map of where you were last seen.

You’d been starting to put together a crew of other villains that had quirks that could manipulate people, he needed to move in now before you took your crimes to a more grand scale.

Laying down in his bed he stared at the photos of you so close to him…you were so close to him, and he was so close to finally getting to you.

He imagined every night what it would be like to finally confront you, to finally get his hands on you…

The obsession of catching you had started to transform into an obsession of other sorts, and his hand often found his way underneath his boxers at night staring at photos of you. You were everywhere… everywhere in this city it seemed. Everywhere in his apartment as well, and he needed you everywhere around him.

He’d imagine that with your powers you had to have the sweetest pussy that he’d ever felt. He hated that you were out there using that perfect body to steal from people, making them drool over you with your charms. It wasn’t right. He wanted to, needed to teach you a lesson.

He tucked his favorite knife under his pillow, the metallic red hilt of it poked out slightly from his white pillow.

There were ways to reform a villan. He’d seen it happen. A few of his former classmates had told him how they’d taken some villains underneath them to teach them a lesson. He never thought he’d be one to need to do it; but, for you he’d do anything. You could be good, and you could be his.

———

You were standing in line at a small bank you’d planned on getting a bit of free cash from. Nothing huge so you didn’t bring any of your crew you’d usually keep around with you. This was just for some pocket change for dinner.

You were scoping out the tellers and trying to figure out how to make sure you got the cute older man with glasses at the first desk. He was pretty fit for his age and you wouldn’t have minded taking him out for a spin after you’d gotten some cash out of him.

You let someone go in front of you when the wrong desk opened up next for you. impatiently you hoped that he’d hurry up with the customer he was with. You wore your favorite low cut shirt and short skirt that you liked to have on when you were on a job. It was plain, no grand villain costume for you, just something cute and flirty. Men were easy, even without your quirk. sometimes all it took was shoving your tits forward in their face and they’d give you exactly what you wanted.

Finally the coast was clear for you to head forward. You put on your best flirtatious grin, and felt a small pink blush forming on your cheeks as you started to activate your quirk. that would guarantee you’d be the most appealing woman this guy had ever laid eyes on. At least for while you had your quirk activated he’d think so. He’d have no choice. Even after you’d linger in his mind from time to time if he stared too long at the blush on your cheeks and the way it almost swirled hypnotically under your skin. That was your plan at least. To take all you can but leave nothing but memories of you for their jerk off library.

You barely took one step forward before you were stopped frozen in your tracks. you felt the back of your shirt lift slightly by rough fingertips and something cold and sharp touched the skin of your lower back.

“Tell them never mind, we forgot something in our car.” A quiet voice growled from behind you.

Your jaw hung open slightly. You weren’t sure what to do but every instinct in you that wasn’t keeping your knees from buckling was telling you to listen to the command.

“N-never mind, sorry.” You stuttered speaking to the bank teller then walking out of the line.

The mysterious man behind you still held the blade to your back and walked with you.

“We forgot s-something…” You rushed as fast as you could, trying not to make a scene.

The man walked you to his car, a black SUV, a rental by the looks of it. He shoved you forward against the door face first. Your chest was pressed up against the window and your cheek hit the car hard enough to bruise. He then grabbed your arms, those rough and battered fingers digging sharply into your skin with a power you knew you’d never resist. He put them both behind you and slapped a pair of handcuffs on your wrists.

“You are under arrest for theft, and sexual coercion.” He grunted as he secured the metal handcuffs with a click as they locked into the tightest he could get them without cutting off circulation.

You heard the shuffle of his feet moving against the gravel between your own feet. A knee roughly shoved one of your legs aside. even though you had panties on under your skirt you felt exposed there in the parking lot.

You did a quick glance up to see that it was unfortunately a very empty lot and he had you positioned on the side of the car where any passersby might see.

You felt a nauseating chill -and though it was only because you couldn’t help it- you felt excitement in your core as he started to brush the front of himself against you. He was hard.

You opened your mouth to say something but he suddenly and roughly grabbed you by the shoulders and spun your trembling figure around to face him.

His wavy dark hair fell over angry eyes and a terrifying expression. You recognized him instantly. Though he seemed so much different than you’d seen him on television. Instead of his hero’s outfit, he wore casual loose black jeans and a black hoodie with a black baseball cap, likely to try and disguise his appearance.

Pro hero Deku, one of the strongest heros currently in the game. And supposedly a sweetheart, and good man.

The crazed, widened eyes on face in front of you had you questioning if tabloids had done him wrong. With that knife in hand he looked scarier than most villains you’d worked with in the past.

“I’ve been trying to find you for a long time. You really haven’t been behaving.” He held the knife up to your face, scolding you with it like he was wagging a finger at you.

You felt yourself shudder as your body tried to slump away from the knife the best it could without jerking away from him in a way that might set him off more.

He looked you up and down silently, giving you a terrifyingly casual smirk suddenly before commanding you.

“Now get in the car.” shoving you aside and opening the door you’d been in front of before roughly forcing you in.

He drove you back to a small studio apartment in a part of town you knew well. It wasn’t an area you liked being in. It gave you an uneasy feeling out here. The streets were littered with trash and rats and it felt like there was just a thick layer of smog everywhere more than the rest of the city.

You wondered what a pro hero like him was doing here. Even more strange was why he was even taking you here, instead of a police station.

You gulped nervously. Now that you think of it, you hadn’t heard him call your arrest in to anyone at all. Wasn’t that standard to do?

As if reading your mind he spoke from in the front seat.

“The only one that knows you’re here is me…” A trembling, but excited smirk came across his lips, he seemed like he was starting to sweat slightly.

“Sorry, I’m just so nervous” He chuckled. “I’ve never tried rehabilitation before…so it’s like you’re my first!” he grinned a large smile at you.

You had no idea what he was babbling on about. You were only wondering if when he opened the door you could just use your charms to let you make a run for it.

He stepped out for a moment, gathering a few things from the trunk into a black backpack before putting it on and walking over to your door.

The blush came back to your cheeks and your pupils turned into hearts as you activated your quirk fully.

He swung open the door and you met him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you could muster and a pout on your lips.

“Deku…please, I think I just need to go home.” You flirted. “I can give you something sweet before I go if you want.” You winked at him, with no intention to let him have an inch of your body.

He stalled for a moment, looking you up and down. You bent over slightly so that he could stare down your shirt better. You heard a small sharp intake of breath, and his hands twitched at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to reach out and grab you.

You smirked. They always fall for your charms.

Suddenly, Izuku started breaking out into a crazed laughter, throwing his head back and clutching a hand to his stomach with the hand that clutched the knife tightly still. Your expression fell and your body tensed up, suddenly realizing you weren’t safe from this anymore.

“Honey, that’s not going to work on me.” His eyes met yours. “I’ve been attracted to you. For a while.” He leaned forward down to your level, getting close and dragging the knife across your cheek. The feeling of the cold metal made you tremble.

“I figured the best way to get immune to your charms was no different than building up a tolerance to poison.” He spat out that last word at you, glaring at you as his eyes flicked from yours to your lips and back. He was mere inches away now, and still holding the knife to your skin.

“I’d cum to you every night, sometimes many times a day, just so when I finally got you that you wouldn’t have any affect on me.” The look he gave was unashamed, though what he said had you hanging your jaw open.

He what?

You weren’t blind to the idea that often the men you enchanted would need to go home and take care of themselves later. But, this man you’d never met, this hero no less…thinking of you that way, that often. You gulped and felt it hard to swallow.

He stepped back from the car, grabbing you by your arm and dragging you into the building.

You did try and struggle against him as he pulled you into his apartment, but it was never going to be any use. Your strength matched with his was an absolute joke, and you knew the knife wasn’t the only threat that he had here. Waving around the knife seemed to be more of a show for himself than anything. It didn’t make it less threatening though.

With your hands still behind your back he pushed you forward and you stumbled inside his apartment. He gave you a few more heavy shoves as you clumsily tripped over your own feet and landed stomach down onto his bed.

Your skirt fell up as you landed, your bare ass cheeks now exposed to him on the bed. You heard a sinful and desperate moan from behind you.

You quickly tried to cover yourself back up the best you could, a real blush forming on your cheeks slightly.

Izuku practically growled at seeing the flash of skin you’d accidentally given. He jumped on you and straddled you, sitting on the back of your thighs so that your ass was directly in front of his clothed erection.

You gasped and tried to squirm forward to release yourself from being pinned. Useless and hopeless of course.

This felt so wrong. You weren’t a saint yourself, but this man was supposed to be a top pro hero. A good guy.

You’d seen him on posters and always thought he was such a pretty man. One you’d love to ruin. Of course you’d thought of it. Who doesn’t fantasize about a pro hero from time to time. Not like this though…

Gone was anything resembling a hero. He was just an insane looking man with a knife in his hand and a devilish smirk on his face as he lifted the skirt up further.

“Fuck.” He hissed out. His hands shooting to massage at the plump cheeks. You whimpered out in protest at the feeling.

“Deku…please…what are you doing.” You sputtered your words out against the gray blanket on his bed your face was now buried in.

He grabbed your hair in the back roughly and turned your head so that you got a good visual of what was plastered all over his wall.

You felt cold ice in every limb at the sight. All of the photos of you on display right where he’d been sleeping…every night. You were repulsed and terrified. This wasn’t a normal investigation for him. He wasn’t just tracking down a villain, this had become something more for him. You’d had your own stalker and hadn’t even realized.

It hurt where he was still pulling at your hair. You didn’t dare struggle against him though. With the hand not holding your head down, you knew he still had that knife close and ready to use.

He lowered his face down next to yours, his cheek just ever so slightly brushing against your skin. You flinched away and that seemed to set him off.

“You’re going to have to get used to me little slut.” He then brought his lips to yours and sloppily kissed you. Again you tried to flinch away but he held you right to him in an uncomfortable attack.

You felt his hips starting to press deeply into you and grind against your ass. His hard cock was aching to be set free.

He needed this so badly. He’d been waiting for too long to have you beneath him like this. He told himself this was the perfect time to teach you a lesson. You deserved to be taught a lesson.

He pulled away from you and sat up again to get a good visual of the way he had you in front of him.

“Don’t. Move.” He spoke quietly, but in such a chilling tone that you instantly froze up and obeyed.

He then took the knife and put it to the back of your neck. Slowly he trailed it down, not enough to cut through the fabric of your shirt, but enough for you to feel the tickle of the blade against you.

It sent a shudder across your body and at that your stomach flipped, hoping you hadn’t twitched at all and made him cut you.

“You’re shaking little slut.” He chuckled breathily the knife stalling at your lower back.

His other hand grabbed tight to your hip and he pressed down holding you still to the bed.

“Don’t move.” He repeated hastily and excitedly in a raspy voice.

His hand left your hip and he pulled at your panties.

He took the knife and cut along the fabric of your underwear right over your crotch. You sucked in a tight breath as he was trailing dangerously close from your clit to your asshole. He then set the knife down on the bed next to you. Taking your panties between both hands and ripping it further leaving everything exposed in front of him.

You squirmed harder at this. He gave your ass a hard smack, causing it to redden instantly. You knew how hard he was capable of hitting. the fact that you knew that was probably the most reserved he was capable of being made you feel like death might be easier than what was about to come here.

“Deku…please don’t.” Without many other options to stop this, you tried to turn your quirk on again and woo him into letting you at least have it more gently

Your whole body covered in a slight blush for a moment as you activated it.

To no avail though. Izuku gave your ass an even harder smack. You yelled out at the sharp sting and your eyes squeezed tightly shut. It felt like that one already was developing into a bruise.

You could hear a snicker from behind you.

“It’s not gonna work, naughty girl. Like I said..” he pointed to the pictures of you on the wall.

You looked again through tear blurred eyes again to see the one in particular of your skirt almost flying up.

“I got off to you all the time. I'm immune to your charms.” He started to unbuckle his pants. “At least enough to do this my way.” He grunted as he took his thick and throbbing length out from his pants.

You hoped that the power he extended through the rest of him didn’t reach there, but you knew that’d be reaching for too much luck.

He was huge, and veiny and angry and dead set on being inside of you.

“I am going to teach you what happens to naughty girls like you that whore themselves out to commit crimes. Making good people cum in their pants over you, even if they don’t want to?” He spat at you.

You felt his plump head pressing against your entrance.

He tried to tease you slightly but he saw that you weren’t at all ready for him.

You were going to be reluctant it seemed. But, he didn’t care. He moved back and angrily shoved your legs further apart in one motion, using his knees, and went to enter again. This time with more force, not wanting to have to try again.

“It’s about time you learned what it feels like to be forced to...” he lost his words as he sucked in a sharp breath. The feeling of your walls sucking him inside so tightly had his eyes already rolling back. His lower half shuddered and he realized he was right, you had the most perfect pussy he’d ever been inside.

His hands gripped into your hips so tightly you were scared he’d forget what he was doing and snap you in half.

His head was hung back and he’d stalled for a moment, before starting to move himself slowly.

You hated how he was filling you up so completely. Every time he pushed himself all the way in your body was betraying you with a moan falling out reflexively from your lips.

He seemed pleased at this and continued to give you deep thrusts, his hips pounding against your ass. His breath hitched in his throat when he locked on to the way your ass was jiggling and rippling each time he smacked against it.

“Fuck you’re so good…” he moaned, grabbing the handcuffs by the chain between them. He used the motion to pull you up, making you arch your back and making him slide even deeper inside of you, kissing painfully against your cervix.

You let out a small scream as he started to pound into you roughly like this.

He didn’t seem to mind your protest though. In fact he might have even liked it.

“Guess you don’t make all the men you trick fuck you like this Hm?” He slammed up into you in one rough and painful movement. “Gonna have to show you why it’s a bad idea to go around offering yourself to everyone like a slut.” He grabbed your head again and shoved you back down onto the bed, pressing your face into the blankets but lifting your hips up into doggystyle.

“Please…stop…” you sobbed, hating the filled up feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your walls. He filled you up in a way that was making your pussy throb all over.

You couldn’t help it though. You couldn’t stop your body from enjoying the feeling.

With each unwanted movement, you also were overwhelmed with the reality that he was good with what he was doing. It wasn’t fair.

With no warning the blade of the knife was back against your ass.

You could feel the tip cut slightly against your skin. Not very deep, but enough that you knew he’d broken skin.

“FUCK” you screamed, “What the fuck!”

You heard chuckling from behind you, a raspy and breathy series of laughs. He was so far gone in the moment he might have lost his original plot of trying to rehabilitate you.

He wasn’t sure what lesson he really wanted to teach you at this point. Now that you were here all he really wanted was to never let you leave. Maybe that’s all this ever was about.

You looked so good in person, everything he’d ever dreamed of in a girl. You felt even better. It was just a shame you were a dirty slutty villain. He realized that was the real reason he needed to rehabilitate you.

He’d make you his. His good girl instead of the dirty criminal that you were.

That required a lot of hard lessons though.

“Please…” you sobbed

A trickle of blood ran down your ass cheek from the cut, he wiped it off with the sleeve of his hoodie in awe. he never realized how pretty blood could be until he saw it on you. He’d been around it plenty, but this felt like something else.

To test it he stopped his movements and gave another small cut to the other cheek.

“NO!” You screamed out. He simply smirked at that, letting his thumb run over the cut this time smearing the crimson red across your skin as he picked back up his torturous pace.

The power surging from him being inside you was something you could practically feel. His quirk was something terrifying when he wasn’t being a hero.

It also started to feel like a slight bit of static inside of you along with every pump, he was directing a bit of his power to his entire pelvic area. Whether on purpose or accident you couldn’t tell, but the pace was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You felt your stomach tightening and you started to clench around his dick.

“Deku…stop…don’t wanna…c-cum” you whined with tears flooding down your face now.

His face lit up at this.

“You’re gonna cum? Shit..” he reached around between your legs and found your clit with two of his fingers. He flicked the swollen area between his middle and index quickly.

“N-no! Please no!” You cried out, though it was useless. His attack on your clit continued, flicking and massaging it with just the right amount of pressure.

It sent you fully over the edge. You shivered as the waves of guilty euphoria were pulsing throughout you. Tears were pouring as well, any makeup you had on was down your face with the wetness as you were sobbing at your body’s betrayal.

Izuku looked down at the way your messy face was pressed ruined against the mattress. All for him. All his now. He’d give you all the lessons you needed. Show you how you’re all his and you don’t need to go around being a slut anymore.

“Tell me this pussy belongs to me now.” He hissed out at you as he was smacking his hips relentlessly against your ass.

“W-wha” you blubbered out.

“You heard me whore.” He grunted as something he did seemed to feel particularly good. “Say it.”

You whimpered, not wanting to give him this, but knowing you didn’t have much choice.

“My pussy is yours now Deku.” You cried out.

He seemed pleased at this, and started fucking into with an even wilder pace. Lots of ‘fuck’s and ‘damn’s were being repeated and you could feel yourself sore with the feeling of his brutal pace.

“Deku it hurtssss” you whined. Something in that seemed to set him off, his eyes widened and he let out an animalistic growl.

“Oh my goddd I can’t keep it in…” he mumbled, slowing his pace and becoming more uneven with his thrusting.

“Gonna cum!” he let out a hoarse cry as he collapsed on top of you, bucking his hips over and over clumsily as he spilled inside of you, letting out a series of ‘oh my god’s.

He pulled out and instantly put himself back inside his pants. You were sat still dripping and full of the cum he’d left there.

“Absolutely disgusting.” He chuckled. “Villains are absolutely disgusting.”

He shook his head at you before shoving you over onto your side.

“I might’ve gotten a bit carried away. But I guess I have to work up more of a resistance to your quirk than I thought. You really do bring out people’s inner animal with that.” He glared at you. “It’s dangerous. Too dangerous even to put you in prison. You’ll just manipulate the guards.”

You now saw that he was moving towards a spot on the bed you hadn’t noticed, a sturdy metal bar with another set of handcuffs on it.

He forced your arm to it and hooked you in to the new handcuffs. Taking the old ones off and tossing them aside.

“I think it’s safer for everyone if you just stay here with me.”

The terror must’ve shown on your face because he gave you a small kiss on your forehead.

“It’s alright. I won’t need to be mean to you once you’re rehabilitated.”

You realized he’d picked the knife back up at some point, as it was being waved around in your face.

He then walked away to his kitchen that was still in the eyeline of his bed, to get himself something to drink.

“I’ll figure out a way to get out of here. you’re no different than me for this Deku” you spat that last bit. “You’re a villain now too.”

He ran back over to you, jumping on the bed in a crouch like an animal and grabbing your face roughly.

“No sweetie, that’s not true. You’re the villain here, and I’m the one teaching you a lesson. Just like it’s always been.” He gave another menacing smirk as he saw you shaking slightly. “Anyways, it’s your fault. You brought it out in me, flaunting it around all over the place.”

You had a feeling you’d flown too close to the sun with your quirk. How could you be so stupid to not realize it would eventually get the wrong hero too riled up.

He had become a feral animal when it came to you.

“So, like you said, you’re mine now.”

[starzblvd]

Sleepover w/ college!Ellie before + after dating hc’s<3

「˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚。」 fluff with slight smut at the end

Before

꒰ა☆໒꒱ would beg for Joel to let you stay a night or two over the summer and wouldn’t drop it until he says yes, then when he does she’d excitedly be texting you “yeah he’s chill with it”

꒰ა☆໒꒱ spends an hour searching up “things to do at sleepovers” so she can map out everything in her head, making up little scenarios of how’d you act with each activity saying she’d definitely love this out loud every once in a while

baking heart shaped cookies? She’ll like this

having a meal based off a movie we watch? She’s going to be so happy

Making face masks and applying it on each other? I’ll get to be close to her face

꒰ა☆໒꒱ So nervous when she actually hears your car pull up the drive way and takes a breathe before opening the door for you but she’s so nervous having you to herself at her house she just awkwardly smiles for a couple of seconds staring at you until Joel introduces himself and breaks the moment

꒰ა☆໒꒱ She didn’t tell Joel she had a thing for you but it was so obvious to everyone besides you, Ellie’s eyes lingered on your face and body with how painfully your shorts and low the cut of your top was. Joel would leave the two you be but would get second hand embarrassment if he stayed any longer to watch how Ellie would be so plainly into you, smiling and nodding along with everything that came out the lips she wished she’d one day be able to know the feeling of, or when she’d get a little red when you even slightly touch her arm

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Not even watching the movie and just looks at you majority of the movie, even if she insisted on playing her favorite movie when you said you haven’t seen it yet, but immediately looks away towards the screen if you shift a little in case you’d look over so she doesn’t get caught

꒰ა☆໒꒱ When it’s time to sleep she didn’t want you to sleep on her floor so she offered her bed but was so flustered when you just suggested sharing a bed and how it wouldn’t be much of a deal, for you anyways

Ellie’a staring straight at the ceiling while you made yourself comfortable on her mattress, having the feeling of your weight besides eased her a bit after a bit with the smell of your shampoo reaching her nose with how close you were

still she wouldn’t be able to sleep until you fell asleep first, then she’d roll on her side to admire you in the dim lighting of her room with only the light coming in through the gap of her curtains landing perfectly on you, after a few minutes she’d lull herself to sleep

꒰ა☆໒꒱ when you woke up you noticed Ellie’s leg was laying onto of your hip and her face was even closer than when you initially were awake, so close you feel the slow steady breathes from nose. You knew she tends to wake up later than you and it was nearly 8am at best, but before you could completely fall into another deep sleep Ellie’s breathing hitches while slowly removing her leg off from you. Opening your eyes a small quarter Ellie’s eyes were wide with a soft pink blush contrasting her freckles, she didn’t notice because she was too focused on repositioning herself like she wasn’t clinging to you all night

After

꒰ა☆໒꒱ doesn’t even ask to have you over and just gives Joel a heads up since she frequently takes you to her house when she can, you even have your own toothbrush next to hers

꒰ა☆໒꒱ You were over so often but Ellie would prefer to actually live with you, she’d even send you a link to join a collab pintrest board to make an imaginary apartment subtly but not really subtly trying to get you on board with the idea of moving in with her

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Washes the blankets you like most of hers for you to use, maybe if she makes you comfortable enough you’ll stay even longer is her mentality when prepping for your arrival

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Cradling you from the back not letting you escape her arms, laying her head on your shoulder smelling the perfume you use that’s Ellie’s favorite, having to pry her off when you need to go to the bathroom

“Ellieee, i got to go cmon”

She groans “just a minute more” before squeezing you but it only makes your need to go worse

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Let’s you borrow any of her clothes and insists that you do, she loves seeing how her clothes look on you, in a way to her it reminds her how you’re hers and hers only and leaves your smell on the fabric when she gets it back

꒰ა☆໒꒱ when Joel leaves you alone Ellie’s quick to get touchy, first she’s sweet picking you up and giving you a small twirl around kissing your nape all over then she smudges whatever lipgloss you put on when she kisses you in the needy hasty way she does, she loved the way the softness of your lips feel on hers, you let her tongue slide in when you felt her soft lick on your lower lip. It was all getting pretty hot until Joel casually slams the door open

“Got another space magazine for, you” he scanned Ellie’s face pretending he’d walked in you two playing uno or something instead

She’d quickly push you off of her that makes you stumble a bit while fixing the two strands adorning her face, flushed but trying to act nonchalantly to deescalate the situation but she wishes she could burry herself into the walls

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Any shyness she harbored prior to dating was long gone with wanting to shower with you, get dressed with you, and sleep within your embrace, being able to have any touch of you sent her into a calm happy bliss so she never misses the opportunity to slip her hands under every article of clothing you wore, sometimes she’d pinch you lightly to tease you because it was so funny to her how you pouted and swat away her hand all frantically

꒰ა☆໒꒱ Nights where you couldn’t sleep Ellie would suggest an idea that worked every time to knock you out, that idea was her slipping her hand under your shorts into the warm wet space of your underwear letting her fingers do all the work smiling all cocky when you had to shove your face into the pillow to keep quiet

[asumofwords]

Common Factors - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: Part 2 of Midpoint, though can be read as a standalone. Michael Gavey asked you out for a drink and you had surprisingly agreed. Will you be able to tolerate each others wit without bickering, or will you lose yourself to him once more?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Public fingering, teasing, degradation, name calling, voyeurism, dumbification, finger fucking, biting, bratty reader. This is porn with barely any plot.

Word Count: 6k

Notes: Hello my angels, I know you have all been waiting so patiently for part two of Midpoint and here it is! Now I can't say that there will be a third/final chapter, but I may have ideas for it. No promises though. Saltburn has made me so nostalgic, I miss MSN messenger and MySpace. I miss the early 2000s so much, the tackiness of it, how everything was just to the max. Lmao. I also miss Tamagotchis. *Sigh*, nostalgia. Anywayyyyy, thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy! <3

Part 1 - Midpoint

When Michael had asked you out for a drink, or rather asked if you wanted to get a drink, it was not really a distinct question of going on a date with him or not, and perhaps you were arguing semantics right now, but that was besides the point.

He had thought that you would go right after your little event in the library. His eagerness was riddled by anxiety, clear for anyone, not that there was anyone in the vicinity, to see or hear, you hoped. 

You had shifted awkwardly for a moment, feeling his spend slide down you thigh in the large hole he had ripped in your stockings, explaining that you wouldn’t be able to go that evening.

He wilted.

It strummed a cord in your chest, and so you quickly explained that it was because of said issue between your legs, and not that you didn’t want to see him again. The fire in his eyes lit up again, and for a moment, the hair on the back of your neck stuck up. It felt as if you were about to be confronted once more by his obnoxious spite, though thankfully, and only because of your quick explanation, did he soften and you exchange details for your respected MSN Messenger accounts. 

The night after he was busy, apparently there was some sort of important chess tourney that he would be going to with his friend, you were unaware that he had any, and so he proposed the night after. But the night after you had told your best friend that you would bus into the city centre to meet with her, so that was no go as well.

You both thankfully settled on the Friday later that week, agreeing to meet at the small pub you frequented, which you found he did too. Each time the computer dinged at his reply, a thrill of excitement crawled through you. He was rather curt in his messages, but eager, and would often would send moving emojis at the end, which you saved and would send back.

Friday rolled around quickly, and you found yourself eager to see him again. You spent a solid two hours fretting over what to wear, deciding that pants or tights were not an option this time despite the cold weather.

You settled on a cute little outfit, the skirt of it coming to your mid thigh, looking at yourself in the mirror as you left before triple checking your computer and Nokia for any messages to say he was late, or couldn’t come, but none came. The last message he had sent to you, was a smiling thumbs up that moved largely across your screen agreeing to see you at 7pm sharp. 

You left early, earlier than what was needed, and sped walked the entire way to the pub, pulling your large jacket tightly around you, scarf covering the lower half of your face. The air was particularly crisp that evening, and by the looks of it, it may snow later, and although it was quite cold, you could see from afar that the pub was full, the winter air not deterring them. 

When you opened the door, the stale stench of its beer soaked floorboards filled your senses, loud music and even louder people, drinking and smoking and laughing in large groups without any care for the world. You knew that break would soon enough be coming to an end, and all the students would now be slowly making their way back, spending their last days or weeks of break with friends on campus and the establishments surrounding. 

The air inside the venue was stuffy, and almost wet with condensation, and as you rose on your tip toes, looking over the heads of others at their tables, or at the bar, you struggled to spot the familiar sandy blonde hair from your library, and the glasses that sat perched on his sharp nose. 

You pulled out your Nokia, checking the time and also checking for any messages. 

It was 6:57.

You were early.

But not too early.

Heading straight for the bar, you ordered yourself a drink, eyes drifting back over the pub, looking at the faces to see if you could see him with anyone. When again, you didn’t spot him, you told yourself not to panic, and instead decided that you would find yourself a spot to sit. There was table in the far corner, away from most, its surface was cleared bar a half drunken pint, hidden in the shadows and pressed against the wall between two larger tables, filled with people. You paid for your drink, and headed straight for the empty seat, winding past the pulled out chairs and wafts of smoke.

You were halfway there when a figure popped into your periphery. Your eyes locked onto a pair of familiar blue ones, a twitching smile pulling at his sharp yet plump lips. He came towards you from the direction of the loo, and you watched as he wiped his hands down the sides of his pants despite them looking dry.

“Hey.” You smiled, stopping short of the table, to awkwardly look up at him as he made his way over.

“Hi.” 

You shifted awkwardly around each other before you leant forward to give him a hug, he wrapped one arm around you stiffly in reciprocation, before pulling back to straighten, eyeing the drink in your hand.

“You get me one?” Michael nodded his head to your drink.

Your brows furrowed softly, “Uh, no. I wasn’t sure if you were here.”

Michael hummed, “I’m never late.”

Here we go again, you inwardly sighed. This is just what you didn't need. Another run in with his attitude.

“I wasn’t to know that.”

Michael stared at you a moment longer before turning away to the bar. You watched him awkwardly, yet somehow confidently, move through what little people stood at the counter waiting, standing rod straight as he ordered himself another pint. As he waited, you took your seat on the side where the half drunk beer wasn’t, back to the wall and completely cornered in. 

When Michael came back, beer in hand, you let yourself graze your eyes over him. You couldn’t stifle the laugh that exploded from your lips. He frowned as he sat opposite you, a tinge of defensiveness showing on his strong features.

“What?” He almost sneered, watching as you brought a hand to your mouth to try and cover it up.

“I’m sorry,” You giggled again, having to look at the ceiling for two seconds, trying to compose yourself, pushing a breath out shakily, “Your shirt.”

You began to laugh again, watching him as he looked down at it, inspecting it for a stain or hole.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” He asked clinically, not finding a rip or hole or bird shit which he had suspected was there for a moment on the material.

You bit your bottom lip and giggled again, “It’s awful.”

Tucked into his cargo pants and black leather belt was one of the worst shirts you had ever laid eyes upon. It was white, and in big font on the front, it read ‘Weapon of Math Instructions’. On it, small drawings of calculators, protractors, and sums surrounded the large font.

In a quieter voice this time, he replied, “I got it for my birthday.” He picked up the sweating beer to bring to his lips, the foam coating his mouth as he drank deeply.

You felt a tinge of regret for laughing at him so openly, even though it was admittedly the worst shirt you had ever seen, “Do you enjoy maths puns, Gavey?” You tried to sound flirtatious, but in the moment you sounded more unsure than anything.

Michael took the beer away from his lips, swiping the back of his hand against his mouth, “If they’re funny. Why?”

“Do you have more shirts like this?” You tried to contain your mirth and failed.

The curiosity melted away, and a stony expression slipped over his face, “You’re taking the piss.”

You shook your head, heart speeding up, “No! No, sorry, Michael. I swear I’m not, I just, I wanted to- I’m trying-“

“-For someone whose degree relies heavily on the english word, you sure do struggle to find them.” The smirk on his lips was a thinly thing that indicated that he was being playful, but if he hadn't of smirked, you wouldn't have known. His tone was flat, his body posture stiff, and not once did he laugh, but you knew him.

And it more intimate than you would have liked.

Tongue in cheek in you leant back in your chair, feeling a comfortable little bubble surround you, the tension that was there only simmering in the background now, and not drowning you in it.

“How was the chess tourney?” You took a sip from your drink as he watched you.

“Fascinating, if it’s something of interest.”

His answer surprised you,.

“And was it of interest?”

“TBD.”

You took another sip of your drink, “My nan used to play chess with me when I was little.” 

This seemed to peak Michael’s interest greatly, “You can play?”

You shook your head humbly, smiling, “I can play, though I’m probably not very good.”

“We should play.” His answer was so immediate, so abrupt, that you could only blink before remembering to reply.

“What, now?”

Michael raised his brows at you as though you were intellectually stunted, “Do you see any chess boards in this shit hole?”

You breathed sharply through your nose, “No.” You said more afronted than intended, “I was just asking-“

“-You ask a lot of questions but don’t know what ones you want the answers for.”

Annoyance began to bloom in your chest, “I thought we were done with this tit-for-tat nonsense. Or did you want a round two, Gavey?”

A soft blush spread across his cheeks, and you knew you had him.

“Are you going to ask me about my day?” You cheeked, enjoying the way he flustered slightly, and then held back an angry sneer.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

Michaels jaw tensed, and you bit your inner cheek to not smile, “Your day.”

A large grin spread across your lips along with a false expression of realisation, “Oh, my day! My day was fine, thank you, Michael. I did some reading, I did some study, and then I got myself ready to have drinks with a right git.”

Michael sucked his teeth loudly, “You’re funny. Should be a comedian instead of studying them.”

“You’re cute,“ You countered, “Should smile more instead of sneer.”

“I thought you said we were done with this nonsense.”

“I did, and I am. Starting…. Now.” You smiled widely, bringing your drink up to toast. 

Michael looked at you oddly, then to the glass in your hand before finally he brought his up, connecting the two cups.

You smiled wider, proud to be ready to say something you know will interest him,“‘If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.’”

Michael's glass slammed down onto the table, his body leaning towards you in palpable excitement, “How do you know that?” His voice was eager, like you had lit a flame inside of him.

You smiled smugly, sipping on your drink, proud of yourself to have garnered such a reaction, “Learnt it with my degree. Einstein wasn’t just a man of maths. He was an important part of modern history. Especially regarding his involvement, or I should say rather, his non-involvement in the Manhattan Project.”

Michael's eyes lit up behind his glasses before he picked up his beer and thrust it against yours again, “Glad they’re teaching you something of importance.”

You huffed and laughed and sipped, watching as Michael settled his chair closer to you. It felt as if a door had been opened, and suddenly you were able to step inside the world that was Michael Gavey.

“You know,” You smirked, feeling heat from him beside you, chairs still apart, but bodies leant towards each other, “Art and History is just as important as Maths and Science.”

Gavey looked as though you had declared that the Earth was flat. It was a peculiar little look that made you want to lean across the space and press your lips squarely against his.

“I’m being serious.” You continued, “Without art, without history, the world would be a lot more boring than it is now.”

Michael pursed his lips at you, “Whatever helps you rationalise your choice of degree.”

You sipped your drink, eyes watching him over the rim of your glass, “I’ll let that slide. Only because I know you like watching me get riled up.”

“You’re rather confident of yourself this evening.” He commented, his blue eyes gleaming behind his glasses.

“And you’re rather goading. Not that that’s out of the ordinary.”

His fingers strummed against the table as he looked at you, eyes roaming over your body, “You look nice.”

“I would say the same, but I hate lying, and that shirt is an abomination.” You teased, bumping your shoulder into his lightly.

He smiled.

When did it become this?

How did it become so easy for you to melt into this conversation with him of all people?

Only earlier this week the two of you were at each others throats, snarling and fighting, and now here you were, seated beside each other, making little jokes and sitting intimately close. 

“Careful. Tit-for-tat.” Michael warned you, and you rolled your eyes playfully with a huff.

It seemed to please him, and soon enough you were moving through a smooth conversation. He mostly asked you about your studies and friends, and even asked about your family.

And you learnt about his. A fairly standard, run of the mill family. One sister, and an older brother, had a dog growing up, and now has a fish. 

But soon enough the conversation drifted back to your studies.

“Are you looking forward to term starting again?” You asked.

You felt as though he would be, his desire for learning and studying was clear whenever he spoke about it. He was passionate, and it was something that you admired about him. Or at least, now you did.

Michael shrugged, “I’m looking forward to graduating.”

This confused you.

“Why?”

Michael frowned, “Why do you think? I’m second in our year, I barely need to study-“

“-All you do is study, Michael.”

“Because there’s not much else to do here, I don’t have friends like you do.” Michael sneered the word friends, and immediately you knew who he was referring to.

“Michael-“

“-It’s different for us. People who aren’t ‘in’. Theres no parties, or accolades, only our degree.”

“You know that I’m not-“

“-I know that you don’t think you are, but whether you like it or not, they consider you one of them.”

You frowned. You didn’t like hearing that, especially with what Farleigh had said to you. You hated it because whilst it was wrong, it was still true. You did get invited to the parties, you had them all on MySpace and MSN, and even had their numbers in your phone. But for you, it was different, and Michael knew it.

You pushed your tongue against the side of your mouth, “I’ll bring you as my plus one to the next party. Then you can see that you’re not missing out on much.”

“You’d be seen with me in public? With them watching?” He said it with a laugh, though it was entirely humourless.

Your head tilted to the side, “We’re in public right now, aren’t we?” You looked around the pub, watching the many faces around you before settling back onto his. His expression was unreadable, until finally-

“We are in public.” He smirked. Gavey downed the rest of his beer quickly, all but slamming his glass onto the table, though not loud enough to garner any attention from the other patrons.

Michaels hand grabbed the seat of your chair and pulled it roughly towards him. You let out a squeak of surprise as your seat shifted against the floor suddenly, almost making you lose your balance. 

“Michael!”

“What?” He asked innocently.

“What are you doing?” Your heart began to quicken, his hand coming down to brush against your thigh as he intently stared at you from behind his glasses.

“I’m not doing anything.” His hand inched higher, grazing your inner thigh.

In a small panic, you lifted your gaze to the rest of the pub. Not one person had looked up when he dragged you to him, nor had anyone taken even the slightest bit of interest about the two students hidden in the dark corner table. Everyone in the pub was drunk and too absorbed by their own conversations and friends to notice anyone else.

“What’s wrong?” Gavey teased, voice dipping lower as he openly mocked you, his pinky finger skirting against the edge of your panties. 

Your brain had short circuited itself.

You were in public.

Where anyone could see.

And Michael had his hand under your skirt, teasing you.

This was what not what you would have expected from the man who was currently wearing a maths pun on his shirt. Your hand dropped under the table and grabbed his wrist tightly, stopping him from moving it any higher, though this didn’t prevent him from continuing to run his pinky back and forth under the elastic of your panties.

Heat coursed through you, and your core clenched around nothing. 

“What are you doing?” You asked breathlessly, a rhetorical question really. You knew just as well as he did exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Gavey.”

“I’ll tell you what,” He smirked again, eyes locked onto your face, watching as you struggled internally, “You sit there and be a good girl for me, and when we go back to your room, I will give you what you want.”

You blinked.

Michael squeezed your thigh roughly, “Use your words.”

“Okay.” You breathed.

“Okay what?”

“Yes.” Your blood pumped loudly in your ears, air struggling to get inside of you as you squirmed in anticipation. 

“Yes, who?”

You wet your lips with your tongue, mouth suddenly feeling dry, “Yes, Michael.”

He could be so demeaning so quickly. Like a switch was flicked. He went from this awkward, sneering maths genius to a cold and domineering man who could pull any response he liked from you.

“Better.” He smiled, “Now,” Swiftly Michael tugged your panties to the tide, two fingers immediately grazing your centre. You jerked as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds and up to your clit.

You were soaked.

“Tell me what they’ve taught you about Einstein, since you want to use his words as a toast.” He looked you in the eyes as your breath caught on itself, his fingers swirling around your bud slickly. 

Michael suddenly paused, stilling his fingers, “Unless you only used him to try and impress me?”

Irritation coursed through you alongside frustration, “I didn’t use him to im-“ Your voice stilted as he began to rub his fingers against you again.

“To what?” He mocked you.

“I-Impress you. We learnt abou-t him and his wife recently.”

“The wife he divorced?”

“Yes.” You grit through your teeth, pleasure winding powerfully through you. Your toes curled in your shoes, stomach clenching as his fingers dipped back down to your entrance, scooping up more of your slick to drag back to your bud. Your eyes flittered around the pub, checking nervously to see if anyone had noticed what was going on underneath the table. 

No-one had.

“Surely you can find the words to tell me more?” One long finger suddenly pressed inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly, hands gripping the edge of the table tightly, “Or are you dumb already?”

“H-his wife was a brilliant physicist,” You struggled to control yourself as he crooked the long finger inside of you, curling it up against your inner walls, “And a-a mathematician.”

“Was she now?”

“Yes. Mileva Marić. They were married for a decade, and he-“ All thoughts escaped you as Michael added a second finger with the first, the stretch pressing into you deliciously as he immediately hooked his digits. You blinked mouth agape whilst looking at him, feeling your face become flushed. 

His eyes were half lidded as he watched at you intently, watching your every reaction, testing and teasing to see what made you tick, eager to make you come undone.

This was affecting him as much as it was you. 

Only he didn’t care for others catching on.

His stare urged you to continue.

“H-he was cruel to her.” You muttered, brain struggling to catch up.

Michael hummed, “Most men of historical notice were. It was the norm.”

“It doesn’t m-mean that it was okay.”

“No. But a man such as him surely deserves more merit in your eyes.” As his fingers crooked into you, slowly rubbing the spongy patch inside, his thumb pressed against your bud, causing you to shift your hips towards him, grinding down on his hand as you breathed a breathy moan, “Einstein did things that no men could.”

“I-if it was all his w-work to begin with.” You argued weakly, unable to keep your voice sturdy.

“What do you mean?” Michael’s interest halted his hands movement, but this lapse in control only lasted a moment before he corrected himself and began again.

“M-Mileva scored higher than him in applied physics. Five to his one. I-It's believed she helped him complete equations that he couldn’t without the credit. I-It's why he promised her the money f-from his Nobel Prize.”

The mans fingers slowed down their ministrations as he digested your stuttered information, the coil within you already beginning to tighten, “Fascinating.” He breathed, edging closer to you, “Tell me more.”

“Many women-” Michaels thumb began to quicken, halting your thoughts abruptly, your hands still clutching the edge of the table, knuckles aching.

“Many women, what?” He parroted you meanly, “Don’t tell me you’re close already, are you?”

You swallowed thickly, not willing to open your mouth lest a moan or gasp fall out. Michael chuckled quietly, his fingers quickening the pace within, causing you to arch towards him and grind down against his hand again. His arm subtly moved against you, and if anyone in the pub looked, they would surely know what was going on.

“Look at you,” He cooed, his other hand brushing hair behind your ear, “Already so close.”

You whined, trying to shift closer to him and his hand, if that was even possible.

“Does it turn you on that I’ve got my hand in your cunt for all to see?” He purred, “If someone just turned around right,” His fingers pulled out from you momentarily, moving up to your clit where he pinched it between thumb and forefinger, causing you to jerk, “Now, and looked closely enough, they’d be able to see how you’re desperately grinding down against my fingers.”

Your core clenched around him at his words.

“Oh, you do like it.” He tutted, “Such a dirty little whore.”

You whined again, “Michael I-“

“Shhh, don’t you worry that pretty, little, empty head.” He cooed, emphasised by swift rubbing circles on your bud, “I’ll take care of you, but only if you behave.”

You nodded desperately, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge. You would do anything. You were desperate at this point. The week of waiting for him had filled you with anticipation, and meant you spent most of your nights with your fingers or vibrator between your thighs thinking about him and your last meeting in the library.

Michael watched you nod and grind down on his hand, his pace slowing so that you couldn’t get much out of it besides a slow and steady buzz of pleasure.

He seemed to think for a moment, deliberating, before an almost cruel smirk pulled at his lips.

“Do you know your times tables?” He asked, fingers almost still at this point, only languidly moving to keep you riled, or to remind you of what he was doing.

You could scarcely think, scarcely exist without feeling as though you were at any moment about to come undone, his hands keeping you just at the precipice. Your mind was hazy, and any and all thoughts of substance had seemed to escape you.

“Use your words.” He encouraged you in a demeaning manner.

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Not just a pretty face then.” The backhanded comment could have made you smile, “We are going to play a game.”

Could have.

Your eyes widened slightly, hands dropping down to clutch the underside of the table, “A game?”

“Yes.” He gave you an encouraging smile, “Good job. A game.” He was treating you like you were a child who is only just beginning to understand a basic concept, “I’m going to ask you an equation, and you’re going to answer it. If you’re correct, you get a reward. If not,” He paused, fingers teasing you again, “You get punished. Do you understand? Or do I need to dumb it down for you?”

The way he was speaking to you, so meanly, so smugly, made you clench harder around his fingers.

You liked when he was mean to you.

“Answer me. Yes or no.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. Alright,” His hand paused its movements, pulling his fingers out to just rest lightly against your bud, barely touching you, “What is the sum of seven times nine? I’ll use small numbers so that it doesn’t confuse you.”

Slowly, you did the maths in your head, “Sixty-three.”

Michael smirked, “Good girl.” You keened at the praise, and felt his fingers press a little harder into you, his movements beginning to start again slowly, though not enough to give you any pleasure.

“What is fifteen times six?”

Oh god. 

“Um,” You shifted, blinking rapidly to try and do the maths, but every time you got somewhere, Michael would press against you harder as if he knew, ruining your train of thought.

“Come on,” He teased with a swirl of his fingers, “That’s an easy one.”

-5 is 75, then-

“Ninety.” You gasped out.

“Good, good. So clever of you.” He cooed, though the sarcasm dripped from his lips. His fingers once again pressed harder, sparks of pleasure finally springing up inside of you. The sound of the pub was loud around you, and in the dim light, you could see that a blush had spread across his cheeks. 

“One more and then I’ll give you your reward. If you get it wrong, then you get nothing. Ready?”

You nodded shakily, chasing his hands with your hips. He tsk-ed you and stilled his hands, “Don’t be greedy.” You apologised softly and stilled, waiting for him to start again. 

"Twelve times seventeen.”

Oh God. 

What?

“M-michael, that’s not-“

“What? It’s easy enough. Even the thickest of people could get it. Though I suppose you’re getting all pretty and dumb for me anyway.”

“I-“

“How about this,” He smirked, and the way he did it caused you to sit on edge, “I’ll help you since you’re such a stupid little girl.” Michael plungers his fingers into you with no warning, immediately fucking them into you rapidly.

You sucked in air sharply, feeling the coil within begin to pull taught. 

“Twelve times fifteen is one-hundred-and-eighty. You need two more twelves. Do you know what two times twelve is?” 

Did you?

Jesus.

“I- It’s twenty four.” You answered shakily, surprised at your own voice.

“Twelve times seventeen?” He repeated the original question, “Oh dear, you really do have no brain.”

“N-No.” Your voice shook with how roughly and quickly Michael fucked you on his fingers, “Two times twelve.”

“Ah, clever little idiot. Go on now, what is one-hundred-and-eighty plus twenty-four.”

Your brain couldn’t do it, too hazy with how he was degrading you and how well he was touching you. You just wanted to cum. All you wanted was to cum. And then his thumb joined, swirling over your clit slickly as his fingers pistoned in and out of you, the sound of your wet rising from beneath the table. Your arousal pooled onto the back of your skirt and the wood of the seat.

“T-two-hundred-and-“ Michael pressed his thumb brutally against your clit suddenly, fire coursing through you, ruining your train of thought once again.

Damn him.

“Two-hundred-and what?”

Oh god.

“Two?”

Michael frowned at you, though you could tell that he was pleased, his fingers pulled away from you quickly, your eyes widening.

“N-No!” You grabbed his wrist keeping it against your inner thigh, his slick fingers pressing against your skin, “I-I-“

“Wrong answer.” He tutted, “You’re so fucking stupid. So fucking stupid and desperate, look at you.”

“Please, please,” You begged, clit throbbing, “I know- I know what the sum is. Please.” You pulled his hand back to your core, his fingers stiff as you ground against them desperately, “It’s two-hundred-and-four. Two-hundred-and-four. Michael, please.”

Michael’s fingers did not move, and watched you with entertainment as you desperately rubbed him against you. You needed to cum. You needed it. You didn’t care who saw. You didn’t care if it was degrading. You needed him. And you needed him now. 

“Look how fucking desperate you are.” He laughed, “So pathetic. Whining like a bitch in heat as you grind against my hand. Are you that desperate to be a little whore?”

“Yes. Please. Please, Michael. Please. I need it.”

“You need it?” He smirked.

You were so close, so so close, “Please, please.”

“Tell me you need me.” He breathed, face coming closer to yours, his breath fanning agains your lips.

You licked your lips again, swallowing thickly, “I need you.”

Gavey smiled toothily, “You’re so pathetic.”

And without a second thought, or really without even a first thought, you nodded in agreement, “I’m pathetic. Please. Please, Michael, I want you.”

“What will you do to get it?”

“Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” He asked again, eyes searching your face.

You nodded desperately, needing him more than you had ever needed something before “Please.”

“Okay.” His fingers slipped back into you as he breathed the word, almost as if he was bored, like fucking you with his hand in public was an all too boring affair.

Mundane.

Little to nothing coming out of it for him. But in that moment you didn’t care as the coil within began to wind again.

“Fuck.”

Michael leant forward, his lips beside your ear so that you could hear him clearly, “You’re going to cum on my hand in this disgusting little pub like the dumb, desperate, little slut that you are, and then you’re going to thank me for it. Understood?”

“Yes.” You whined, hand gripping his wrist as it pummelled into you, thumb brutally swiping your clit as his fingers brushed over the sensitive patch inside of you over and over. 

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” His lips brushed your neck, causing a shiver to roll through you.

“Fuck. Y-yes.”

Michael leant forward, his lips brushing against the skin beneath your ear, his sharp nose nuzzling into your hair before he bit down on you roughly, causing you to gasp. To anyone else in the pub it would have looked like an intimate gesture, a man trying to whisper something sweet into his dates ear, but to you, it was damning.

You were so close, so so close, and all it took was four little words to send you over the edge. Michaels tongue lapped at where he had bit you before he came back to your ear one last time.

“I own you now.”

Pleasure erupted through you, your release bursting from within. You jerked in your chair against him, tucking your head into the side of your neck as you hid your face, grinding down onto his had as you whimpered. Michael plucked pleasure from deep within you, his hand not once slowing, prolonging your orgasm. It was only when it began to subside did his hand slow as you breathed raggedly against his neck, slumped into your chair and against him.

Your heart thumped against your ribs as you panted, and gently Gavey withdrew his fingers from within you, a wince falling from your lips from oversensitivity before he pulled your panties back into place.

Michael cooed you gently, “Good job.” Almost inaudible in the loud of the pub, “So good f’me.”

Fatigue washed over you like a wave, crashing into you so fiercely that you didn’t have the strength to sit up yet. You were fucked out, mind thinking of absolutely nothing as you nuzzled your face into his neck further, breathing in his scent.

“Hm,” Michael hummed, “You still with us?”

You hummed back in reply dreamily, only moving back when Michael pulled you away, watching you with half lidded gaze as he looked over your disheveled form. Michael laughed again, eyes crinkling in the corners as he brushed his hand against your cheek. Your first thought was how pretty he was when he smiled, and then you felt the wetness of your slick clinging to your skin crudely. 

With a curious touch, Michael moved his fingers across your lips, the taste of yourself tart and warm as he caressed you. You opened your mouth for him and let his fingers inside, immediately tasting yourself as he rubbed his digits against your tongue slowly as you held your mouth open for him, drool beginning to pool at your bottom lip. 

“Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded lazily, small smile flicking at the edges of your lips. Michael pulled his fingers from your mouth and used his thumb to smear the saliva that had pooled at your bottom lip over lips messily.

He tutted, “Dirty girl.”

“Mmm.” You hummed in content.

Michael eyed your half drank drink, nodding towards it, “Finish it.”

You did as he bid, brining it to your lips as you kept your eyes on him, swallowing it quickly before placing the glass back on the table, a warm fuzzy feeling slipping over you, a little space that was warm and safe and cozy. Then Michael stood, rather abruptly, like he had remembered that he forgot to turn the stove off, chair hitting the wall behind him as he looked down below at you.

“Time to go.”

You stood, on shaky legs to follow, adjusting your skirt sheepishly, knowing that there would be a damp patch at the back but not caring enough to hide it. In a way, you wanted people to know what had happened, and in some ways your wish had come true. 

A table in the middle of the pub nearby had half of its eyes on you, whispers and smirks shared amongst one another, watching as Michael grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowd roughly. Wolf whistles and hoot’s were called after you, followed by rambunctious laughter. You weren’t sure if they had seen what was happening under the table, but you were sure they had seen his fingers in your mouth. 

The door to the pub was swung open as Michael pulled you out sluggishly behind him. As you stood in the crisp air he spun you abruptly, grabbing your face as he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue immediately swiping against yours, trying to taste your essence that lingered there. Michael groaned into the kiss, pressing his body against you, where finally you could feel how much what had transpired had affected him. He pulled back, restraining himself as his sharp nose bumped into yours as he moved. 

And then he was gone, stepping away from you as he began to walk away. You stood dumbfounded as you watched him, snow beginning to fall from the sky. 

Do you go after him? Was this it? Did he just use you in the pub only to humiliate you out the front? 

A wave of confusion and hurt washed over you, but before it could turn to anger, he stopped and faced you again, a soft smirk on his lips.

“You coming? You said anything.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

[ricolaviecher]

Blurt it out

This is a Tim Bradford x reader fanfiction I had an idea for and just had to write it down. English is not my first language so there could be a few mistakes.

I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it. If anyone has feedback, I am open for it. <3

Summary: It takes place in 4x1. That's the summary.

The next fanfic I will post will be a Chenford one and I am currently working on other stuff.

If anyone has requests or ideas what I could write just send it in bc I ran out of ideas.

She stared at the display, unable to look away. She didn’t really want to see what was happening, but she couldn’t just look away, and risk to oversee any detail that could help them. As a cop, she was trained to pay attention.

Next to her stood all the other people. Sergeant Grey, John Nolan, Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford, and of course Nyla Harper. She could see Lucy wiping a tear from her cheek, as well as Nyla. But she… she didn’t feel anything. There was not a single emotion in her.

(Y/N) winced, as she saw a shot being fired on the screen. Fuck. The last glimmer of hope was now gone. Sergeant Grey turned the video back.

“There. He flinched. As if Jackson scratched him or something like that”, he said.

“He knew he wouldn’t have a chance and wanted to give us something to work with. There would be DNA under is fingernails.” Lucy’s voice broke.

“I’ll tell the forensics so they can take a look at it. In the meanwhile, I want you all to go home and take some rest. I’ll let you call when we have some new information.” The Sergeant’s voice wasn’t as authoritarian than usually.

“I want to help. I can’t just sit here and do nothing! It was our colleague who got killed! Our friend! And Angela was kidnapped! We need to find out where La Fiera is!” Lucy felt more than (Y/N). You could hear it because of her breaking voice.

“It was an order, Officer Chen. Go home. Like I said, I’ll have you called in if there is any more information that there is now.”

“With all due respect Sir, but that’s my fiancée and I won’t go home until I know where she is and if the baby is healthy. I won’t go home until my pregnant wife-to-be is home with me again.” (Y/N) had completely forgotten that Wesley was here too. It was just logical; his fiancée was missing and he wouldn’t let them do their job without keeping him updated.

(Y/N) felt tears roll over her cheeks. She had just seen one of her best friends being killed. It didn’t feel real. Like she was only watching a movie and didn’t have any relation to the characters. Why couldn’t she feel more? She wanted to be mad, she wanted to be able to scream, to openly cry, but all she could was feel the silent tears rolling down her face.

She could feel a hand on her shoulder. Tim.

“You should go home. This case isn’t on us. At least not in the moment. Get some rest.”

Tim looked at her with worried eyes. Not really surprising. It was in the middle of the night. Her best friend just died – no, got killed - and she stood in the middle of the police department, crying because she didn’t know what to do. How she could get up in the next days.

“Come on.” She let Tim lead her out the office.

“I… I can’t go home. What if something happens? I… I’ll just stay here. This is the safest place right now.”

Tim looked at her… concerned. He often dealt with this kind of emergency, but Tim had never before dealt with this with his friends. Of course, he has already lost partners in the job but not like this.

“You can come with me. It would also be easier if they call us in to help them with something. Your apartment has a longer way to the department.” (Y/N) stared at him with wide eyes.

“Really? I… I don’t want to impose and you don’t feel too well either I think… your… your best friend just got kidnapped.” She really didn’t want to be an inconvenience. And what would be the looks she would get if anyone found out she stayed at her boss’ house for over the night even though they won’t do anything else that sleeping. In separate rooms.

“You won’t. Are you hungry? We didn’t really eat as the wedding didn’t take place so…?”

“I am hungry but I honestly don’t know if I can keep anything down now.” (Y/N) tried to dry her face from the tears, that finally stopped flowing.

“We can get some take-out and we try to eat and if not, we have the left-overs for tomorrow. Sounds like a plan?” (Y/N) nodded.

“Yes, that’s great. Thank you.” They slowly went to Tim’s car. The blisters the high heels gave her feet were long forgotten. They were her smallest problem right now. Somehow the physical pain even made her feel better.

They only stopped once to get the food. Quickly they decided to take Pizza, something they loved, and could easily be eaten the next day if there were some leftovers.

Tim’s house was… (Y/N) didn’t know what to say. It… fit him. Modern, but not much decoration. She took place at the table, the dress she wore was a bit disturbing.

Shit… She forgot that she doesn’t have any other clothes with her. She only had her dress, and she didn’t really want to sleep in it. It reminded her of all the things that happened today.   

“Ehm… Tim?” He stopped on his way to get 2 plates for the pizza.

“Yes? Is everything ok?” She nodded and then shook her head.

“I don’t have any clothes with me. Do you think we could get some clothes from my place?”

Tim looked at her as if she was crazy. She could somehow understand it. Her house wasn’t exactly next door. They would have to drive at least 30 minutes.  

“You know that it is a long way? Would you be ok if I gave you a shirt of mine and I still have joggers from Angela when she had an argument with Wesley and came here? I know it would be much too big but if you just slept here, I think it would work?” He looked at her with a questioning look and she nodded.

Why not? For now, it seemed like the best solution. Would it be unprofessional? Yes. Would everyone judge her if they saw her? Definitely. But right now, she had bigger problems. Jackson died. Angela got kidnapped. She kind of lost two of her best friends today.

Tim went to, which (Y/N) assumed, was his bedroom. Only a minute later he came back, a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“Here. You can go change in the bathroom. The first door on the left side.” He pointed in the direction he just came from.

“Thank you. Really.” Tim smiled. It was an exhausted but not a forced one.

“No problem at all.”

(Y/N) went to the bathroom. It was definitely more modern than her own. The shower! Wow. She would give everything just to have a hot shower.

“Tim? Could I take a short shower?” Her voice sounded weak. She didn’t have the energy to shout through the whole apartment, she just had to hope that Tim would have heard her.

“Yes. I’ll make the pizza into the oven so it doesn’t get cold, ok?”

“Thanks.”

(Y/N) didn’t remember when the last time was, that she had a proper shower, without having to stress herself because she needed to go to work. Still, she couldn’t enjoy the hot water, that was running over her body.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by emotions. The tears began to slow freely. She wasn’t crying as silently as she did before. Now she could only hope that Tim couldn’t hear her. She sank to the floor; the cold tiles on her back welt like ice cubes in contrast to the hot water.

She buried her face in her hands. Her brain finally realized it. Her friend was dead. Angela got kidnapped. They didn’t know what La Fiera was going to do to her. To her unborn baby. Did Angela already know that Jackson got killed?

A gentle knock was on the door.

“Are you ok, (Y/N)?” She tried to wipe away the tears. Stupid; she was in a shower.

“Yes. I’m ok.” She wasn’t and she knew that Tim could hear it. It was embarrassing. Her boss heard her cry. They weren’t even real friends. She tells him much about her life when they were on shift, but he was always a bit… reserved. They were acquaintances but nothing more.

(Y/N) was glad that Tim didn’t pry any further and she continued to sob freely. She heard how the door opened. Tim didn’t just come into the bathroom, did he? Luckily, the steam already covered the glass of the shower so he couldn’t properly see her.

He opened the door to the shower and switched off the shower. He handed her a bathrobe, which she slipped into. It was made out of very soft material. He gently pulled her out of the shower… and hugged her. A real hug. Not a hug like the ones you give when saying hello or goodbye… no… he held her.

(Y/N) didn’t know when it was the last time, she was hugged like that. She cried freely into Tim’s shirt. Right now, she wasn’t embarrassed by it. She didn’t even care about it a little bit. She was just thankful to be held.

After a few minutes, Tim led her to the living room, where he sat her on the couch, giving her a warm blanket he covered her with. Then he just sat down next to her, and continued to hold her. He didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions. And it was exactly what (Y/N) needed at the moment.

When she finally started to calm down a bit, she wiped away her tears with her hands.

“Thank you, Tim.” Her voice trembled and sounded hoarse. If she still had her Make-up on, her face would have been black from the mascara by now.

“Nothing to thank me. It’s what a friend does.” Tim smiled weakly at her. Friends. He called them friends. She probably wouldn’t say that, but in the moment, she was thankful for it as it made the situation a bit less weird.

“I should probably get changed.” (Y/N) suddenly became aware that she wasn’t wearing anything under the bathrobe.

“Ok. Should I warm up the food? I am really hungry.” Tim looked at er with a questioning look.

“Uhm… yes… that would be great. Again, thank you.” (Y/N) hurried to the bathroom where the clothes Tim led her were still lying on the floor.

Just as she wanted to change into the clothes, Tim called her name.

“Come on we have to go! Grey has new information about Angela!” Instead of changing into the comfortable clothes, she just again slipped into her dress from the evening. Her hair was still wet but it didn’t matter at the moment.

When she stepped into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice Tim’s gaze at her. He scratched his neck, something she knew he did when he felt uncomfortable or nervous which has only happened once before.

“Ehm… Your… zipper isn’t properly… closed.”

Fuck! This didn’t just happen. Half of her chest was exposed… How could she not have noticed that before?! She already felt uncomfortable enough in this situation. Why did this have to happen exactly today. (Y/N) felt like she was about to cry.

She tried to close the zipper but it jammed.

“Wait let me do this.” As if the situation couldn’t get more embarrassing now her boss offered to close the zipper of her dress? If it was at least a zipper at the back of the dress but no. Why did she choose that dress today?

While Tim closed the zipper, (Y/N) only stared at the ceiling, unable to look at him.

“Ok. All done. Let’s go.” She ran to the car, as fast as it was possible in high heels. She slumped into the passenger’s seat.

“Here. Drink.” (Y/N) eyed Tim’s hand as he gave her a can of red bull.

“Oh wow. Thanks.” She was lucky he remembered to pack a few energy drinks in the back of the car, as they both were sleep deprived. And she herself was glad she packed her back with make up for the wedding, which was still in it.

She put the light on and put a bit of her make up on, so it wasn’t as obvious as before that she had cried before.

“You really do your make up now? In a driving car? Nobody is going to be interested in how you look. We have bigger problems at the moment.” (Y/N) glared at him.

Tim had been married. Didn’t he know doing make up is important for a woman? She always found it calming to do make up. It was soothing to do the precise work. Not being able to make mistakes especially not in a stressful situation.  

***

Only a few minutes later they arrived at the police department. They hurried to the Sergeant’s office. Nolan, Chen, and Nyla were already there. The only one missing was Wesley.

“Thank you for coming. Wesley’s not here. He is already in Guatemala. Lokks like he had an informer who helped him find La Fiera aka Sandra de la Cruz. We don’t know what’s going to happen. La Fiera is mentally instable especially after what happened to her son. I can’t officially send anyone to Guatemala.” Grey shot them a meaningful look.

“So, we’ll just have to wait what Wesley can do? He doesn’t have anyone there! He is an attorney! He has no chance against Sandra de la Cruz!” Nolan made a point there.

“I said I can’t officially send you there. But if I don’t know what you are going to do, I can’t prevent you from doing whatever you plan to.”

Now it was Tim speaking: “Conference room. Now. Everyone but Grey.”

***

Only an hour later everything was planned. They all were flying to Guatemala. (Y/N) has never been flying with a helicopter before, what makes her really nervous.

Next to her, sat Tim and on the opposite side were Lucy and John sat. Nyla was in the front with the pilot and in the back were two more seats for Angela and Wesley.

(Y/N) drummed her fingers on her thigh, squeezing her eyes shut as the chopper took off. She has changed into her police uniform, as the evening gown wouldn’t have been really practical for a long flight to Guatemala and probably a few shootouts.

She felt a hand on her fingers which where still drumming a rhythm. Tim’s.

“You ok, (Y/L/N)?” He was into full police mode. There wasn’t any space for kind words. They were about to free Angela and maybe even Wesley. If anyone wasn’t concentrated or anxious, they shouldn’t have come with them. It would have been irresponsible.

“I’m fine, Bradford.” Her voice didn’t sound as strong as she hoped, but everyone seemed to buy it for now.

After they finally landed, Harper, Nolan and Bradford were busy preparing the drone, while Lucy and (Y/N) looked around to make sure that they were save for now. They weren’t really near the house, but they didn’t know how careful La Fiera was.

It was already early in the morning. No one has slept in the last 24 hours, but they were so hyped up by adrenaline and energy drinks, that they barely felt how tired they were.

“Have you eaten anything in the last few hours”, asked Lucy at some point.

“A protein bar at the station but I not more. Didn’t have appetite after… after what happened yesterday. And you? Have you even been home?” (Y/N) could see that Lucy was exhausted and that she cried before. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“No. I couldn’t. I told Tamara I needed to do overtime but I don’t think she bought it. I stayed at the department and slept on a chair in the conference room. I just wasn’t able to go home to see Jackson’s stuff lying everywhere in the apartment. Where you at home? You still were in you dress when you came after Grey called you.” Lucy looked at her for a short time but not long as they still had to concentrate on La Fiera’s workers.

(Y/N) shook her head while saying: “I couldn’t go home either. Didn’t want to be alone after what happened. Tim offered me to sleep at his place.”

“Tim? Tim Bradford? Our boss Timothy Bradford?” Lucy looked really surprised but (Y/N) couldn’t blame her. She nodded.

“Yepp. He was really kind. I was very… upset earlier, so I was very thankful.”

Her friend still looked a bit shocked.

“Wow… that’s… strange. But you don’t have… feelings… for him… right?” (Y/N) laughed.

“God, no. I have to admit it had been a bit strange at the beginning but he was really understanding. He even bought pizza which is now probably cold.”

Even though she laughed, she wasn’t sure if the “feelings-theory” was that wrong. Did she have feelings for Tim? She has often questioned that before.

Every time he touched her it felt… special. She felt like her stomach felt full of butterflies. But she can’t have feelings for him, right? He was her boss and Lucy had to break up with Nolan because he had been also a rookie and not even her boss.

Damn it, why does she always have feelings for guys she cannot have. She still knows how it felt seeing Tim on her side when she woke up from surgery after she was involved in a knife attack. He said he didn’t stay in hospital all night, but she knew he was lying as he still wore the same clothes as the day before.

“Ok, the drone is ready”, Lucy and (Y/N) heard over the radio. They ran back to Bradford, Nolan and Harper. The display, that Nyla was holding, showed everything that was to see with the drone’s camera.

“Ok, they put Wesley and Angela in the trucks. It looks like she is in labor. Ok, that’s what we wanted. No. No! They drive them separated! Nolan, (Y/LN). You follow Wesley. Bradford, Chen and I, we follow Lopez to the hospital. Go!”

***

Like they were told, John and (Y/N) followed Wesley. It looked like there was only one person with him, but they couldn’t know for sure.

As (Y/N) and John followed the truck carrying Wesley, the tension in the air was palpable. Every second felt like an eternity as they carefully maintained their distance, making sure not to lose sight of the vehicle but also not to arouse suspicion. The city's neon lights flickered past, casting an eerie glow on the damp streets.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" John asked, his voice steady but concerned.

(Y/N) nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I'm fine, Nolan. Just... focused."

John glanced at her, noticing the tightness around her eyes. He knew what it felt like to be on edge, especially after a traumatic event. "We're going to get them back. Both Wesley and Angela. We just have to stay sharp."

(Y/N) appreciated his words but couldn't shake the gnawing anxiety in her stomach. She forced herself to stay in the moment, her training kicking in as she scanned the surroundings for any signs of any danger.

The truck turned into an industrial area, and (Y/N) signaled to John. "We need to be ready for anything.”

When they arrived at some kind of farm, the vehicle stopped, the person in the truck stepped out, revealing a silhouette in the bright sunlight. John and (Y/N) exchanged a glance and nodded, both ready to move.

"We need to get closer," (Y/N) whispered as they slipped out of their vehicle and crept towards the warehouse, using the shadows of the trees for cover.

They could see how Wesley got pulled out of the car, a weapon held to the side of his head.

“Faster! I don’t have the time for your games!” Just when Nolan and (Y/N) noticed that the man was about to shoot, they stepped forward.

“Drop the weapon! Now!” Suddenly, a shot rang out, and (Y/N) felt a sharp pain in her side. She gasped, stumbling and clutching her wound as she fell to the ground. John immediately dropped to her side, his eyes wide with fear and determination.

“(Y/N)! Stay with me," John urged, his hands shaking as he applied pressure to her wound. "We need backup! Officer down, officer down!" he called into his radio.

(Y/N)'s vision blurred, but she forced herself to stay conscious. "John... you need to... get Wesley..."

“I know. He is just over there. It’s going to be ok. Just stay with me.

 Back at the hospital, Tim Bradford, Lucy Chen, and Nyla Harper were on high alert, they already found Angela and were on their way to the chopper that should bring them back to LA. Tim's mind was racing, worry etched across his face. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut, and it only intensified when he heard Nolan’s frantic call over the radio.

"Officer down. (Y/N) has been shot. We need immediate medical assistance!"

Tim's heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Lucy, who looked equally horrified, which wasn’t surprising as (Y/N) was her best friend. Lucy has already lost Jackson, just yesterday, she couldn’t bear to lose (Y/N) now too.

When they all arrived at the chopper, they found John – who already was in the chopper - desperately trying to keep (Y/N) conscious. The sight of her, pale and bleeding, hit Bradford like a train. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he took over from John.

"(Y/N), hang on. You're going to be okay," Tim said, his voice cracking. He couldn't hide the emotion in his eyes. "Stay with me."

She looked up at him, her vision fading but her heart swelling at his presence. "Tim... I..."

"Don't talk," Tim interrupted, his voice choked with emotion. "Save your strength. We are on our way to the hospital.”

Thanks to his time in the army, he knew how to handle shooting wounds. He pressed a shirt – he assumed it was Nolan’s – to the wound, wincing as (Y/N) cried out in pain.

“I am so, so sorry.” Tim had never felt something like that when someone got shot. Not even when he was the one shot. He had never felt this much panic. He never had to hold back tears.

Hours later, Tim sat in the waiting room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't lose her. Not when he finally understood what she meant to him.

"Any news?" Lucy asked, her voice trembling.

Tim shook his head, unable to speak. They sat in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts, until a doctor finally approached.

"She's stable," the doctor said, and Tim felt a rush of relief so intense it nearly knocked him over. "She lost a lot of blood, but she's going to be okay."

Tim let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

As they were allowed into her room, Tim sat by (Y/N)'s bedside, holding her hand gently. She looked fragile, but there was a peacefulness to her face that gave him hope.

When her eyes fluttered open, she smiled weakly at him. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," Tim replied, his voice soft. "You scared me."

(Y/N) chuckled weakly. "Sorry about that."

Tim leaned closer; his eyes locked onto hers. "You were trying to tell me something before..."

“It was nothing. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to let me die there”, she whispered. She doesn’t know why she couldn’t just say the truth but this didn’t seem to be the right moment. She had just been shot. What if he assumed she was just high on morphine – which she probably was, but that’s not the point.

The point is, she has feelings for her Sergeant. For her boss. And she doesn’t know if he felt the same. She has doubts. Why would someone like Tim, who doesn’t let any feelings near him, like her? She was just another colleague of his.

“Mhm… ok. I have to go. I am on shift today, but I will come back later. And here, I’ve got you a burger and fries. Thought you don’t want to have the gross hospital food after you were shot and haven’t eaten for 35 hours.” Tim held a paper back towards her.

“Thank you. And wait… I haven’t eaten for 35 hours? That’s a record!” Tim chuckled at (Y/N)’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“See you later.”

***

A bit later, Lucy stepped into the room, what made (Y/N) happy as she has already watched three movies and started to get bored.

"Hey, you," Lucy greeted, her voice warm. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/N) managed a small smile. "I've been better. But I'm alive, thanks to you all."

Lucy pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. "We're just glad you're okay. You really gave us all a scare."

(Y/N) hesitated, then decided to share her burden. If anyone could help her, it was Lucy. "Lucy, can I talk to you about something? Something... kind of… personal?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow, definitely intrigued. "Of course. What's up?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "It's about Tim. I... I think…I have feelings for him. I have for a while, but I don't think I can tell him. I mean, why would he ever feel the same way about me?"

Lucy leaned back, crossing her arms with a smile tugging at her lips “I knew it. It was clear to all of us. Lopey, Harper and I, we even have a bet running when you are going to tell each other. But really, why would you think you're not enough for him?"

(Y/N) looked away, feeling a lump in her throat. "I don't know. He's just... Tim. Strong, dependable, a great leader and so, so confident. And I'm just... me."

Lucy leaned forward; her expression serious now. "Listen, (Y/N). Tim is great, but you're amazing too. You're brave, dedicated, and you've got a heart of gold. And you are so damn strong. You have just survived a shooting. If Tim doesn't see that, then he's blind. But honestly, from what I've seen, I think he does see it."

(Y/N) felt a flicker of hope but still wasn't convinced. "But what if I'm wrong? What if it ruins everything?"

“That’s the risk you’d have to take. But I really doubt it. How he looks at you? How worried he was when he heard you got shot? He even stayed in the uncomfortable hospital waiting room all night as he refused to go home in case something happened! He told Harper to get you the burger and fries in your favorite shop and was about to kill her when she wanted to go to a different one!”

(Y/N) looked at her best friend with wide eyes.

“Are you being serious?” Lucy nodded.

“I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t.” (Y/N) looked away, tears welling up in her eyes.

Lucy sighed, reaching out to gently turn (Y/N)’s face back toward her. "Listen to me. Life is too short to hold back your feelings. If you care about him, he deserves to know. And you deserve to be happy."

(Y/N) sniffled, a small smile breaking through her fear. "But how? When? I can't just blurt it out."

They both chuckled at the thought of her randomly telling Tim she likes him.

“Maybe you tell him when you get discharged from hospital. I am sure he is going to be there because he worries about you and wants to make sure you are ok. He even volunteered to drive you to your apartment and make sure you are comfortable with staying at home without anyone”, Lucy said.

“Ok. That sounds like a plan. Thank you.” Lucy squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

“That’s what friends are for.”

***

Finally, the day of her discharge came, and (Y/N) has thought about this moment a lot. How would she tell Tim? Where? When they are still driving to her apartment or should she invite him into her apartment to talk to him? She has never been the one to tell the other person she’s in love with them.

Tim entered her hospital room, where she sat on her bed, wearing joggers and a wide shirt. She knew she didn’t look her best, but if Tim expected something different, only 5 days after she had been shot, he would be stupid.

“Hey. Are you ready to go home?” Tim stepped into the room, smiling softly at her. Had Lucy been right? Did he really feel the same for her as she did for him? He wasn’t the mean, strong man in this moment. He looked… she didn’t even know how to say it… softer than usually?

“More than ready. 5 days in a hospital without proper Wi-Fi is definitely too long.” Tim chuckled.

“Ok, come on. Can you walk on your own?” (Y/N) nodded even though she wasn’t so sure. Yes, the meds they gave her are good, but not as good as she didn’t feel the pain in her abdomen where the bullet hit her spleen.

She slowly got up from bed, trying not to wince because of the pain she felt.

“Let me help you.” (Y/N) didn’t even react before she felt Tims arm around her, helping her to stay upright.

Somehow, they managed to go to the car, and (Y/N) took a deep breath when she finally sat in the comfortable passenger seat of Tim’s car.

“Are you sure you are alright being home again? Without help? You didn’t even manage to go to the car properly.“

(Y/N) waved him off.

“I am going to be ok. The meds only start to wear off but it is going to be better once I have taken the new painkillers they gave me.”

“Mhm…”

While they drove, it was quite silent. (Y/N) thought about how to tell Tim how she felt about him, because she still wasn’t sure how to break the news.

The car came to a gentle stop in front of her apartment building. Tim turned off the engine and looked over at her. "You sure you're ready for this? I can stay for a bit if you need help getting settled."

(Y/N) nodded, taking a deep breath. "Actually, Tim, I was hoping you would come in for a bit. There's something I need to talk to you about."

Tim's brow furrowed with curiosity, but he nodded and got out of the car, helping her carefully navigate her way to her apartment. Once inside, she guided him to the living room, the familiarity of the space giving her comfort.

"Sit down, please," (Y/N) said, her voice sounded higher than usually. She motioned to the couch, and Tim obliged, his eyes never leaving hers.

"What's on your mind?" Tim asked, his tone gentle but also worried. And maybe a bit panicked?

(Y/N) took a seat beside him, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "Tim, I... I need to tell you something kind of really important. It's been on my mind for a while now, and after everything that has happened, I just can't keep it to myself for longer."

Tim leaned forward, his full attention on her. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

She took a deep breath, her heart racing. "Tim, I... I think I have feelings for you. I know it's probably not appropriate, and I know you're my boss, but I can't help it. I care about you, more than just as a colleague or a friend."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, (Y/N) feared the worst. Tim's expression was unreadable, and she braced herself for rejection.

But then Tim reached out, taking her hand in his. His touch was warm, reassuring. "I don't know what to say," he began, his voice soft. "Except that I feel the same way. I have felt like this for quite a while now. I care about you a lot, and it scared me to think I might lose you when you got shot and laid there."

(Y/N)'s eyes filled with tears, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion. "Really? I was so scared you wouldn't feel the same."

Tim smiled; a rare, genuine smile that even made her heart skip a beat. "It was hard to admit, even to myself. But seeing you hurt, thinking about what could have happened... it made me realize how much you mean to me."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, both of them processing the magnitude of what they had just confessed. Then, Tim chuckled softly. "I guess we're both pretty bad at this, huh?"

(Y/N) laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Yeah, I guess we are. But I'm glad we finally talked about it."

“Me too.” Tim swiped his thumb over the back of (Y/N)’s hand, which he still had in his own.

“Tim? Is… is it ok if I kiss you?” Instead of an answer, Tim leaned into her direction, and kissed her like she never had been kissed before.

In this moment she knew that she loved this man. He has always been there for her. He was the person she talked about everything that happened in her life.

When Tim let go of her again, (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something.

“Was everything… with us… why you have always reacted so jealous and… tight… when I talked about my last boyfriends?”

Tim looked at her, his lips swollen from their kiss.

“Maybe… but I wouldn’t have wanted it differently. I loved listening to everything that happened in your life. And you always smiled so sweet when you talked about everything. I loved listening to you. I still have the records of when you recorded my books I had to learn for the sergeant test. Thank you.”

 “What are you thanking me for?” (Y/N) looked at Tim confused.

“For being you. For making me laugh. For trusting me. Simply for everything. But I believe we aren’t allowed to work together from now on.”

“What if we didn’t tell anyone we are a couple?” Tim raised his brow at the question, before shrugging.

“I think that could work too.”  

[spookyji]

# soobin + somno + (sorta) free use

-> (minors dni + nsfw content below cut, breeding kink, bulge kink, somno, slight pervert, fantasizing, not asking for consent (but like free use ish)

gamer!soobin sitting at his pc for hours on end on weekend nights, soft sweats and loose t-shirts, doesn’t his lap look so inviting~? round glasses balanced on the gentle bridge of his nose, heart shaped lips slightly parted in concentration, clicking away on his keyboard and mouse as his character traverses across the screen, earbuds in, lost in the virtual world.

climbing into his lap after whining quietly, soobin’s eyes widening in surprise for a half second before his arms open, patting his lap as you straddle him in a koala hug, burying your face into his shoulder, his big hand rubbing a slow circle on the small of your back, his chest gently falling and rising with his breathing against yours. hey, honey, he quietly murmurs, planting a kiss to the top of your head, accustomed to late night hugs and naps, his hand resting on the curve of your cute ass, barely covered by the oversized shirt of his you wear to bed, as he games through the night.

oh… but soobin’s a bit of a pervert… his gaze falling more often than he’d like to admit, a slight tint of rose brushing his cheeks as your soft tits press to his chest whenever you lean in further. you… wouldn’t mind, would you~? if he were to use your cute, warm cunt for a bit,,, after all, you’re asleep, and you’re his~~ hesitantly, biting his lip, soobin’s hand leave the keyboard, reaching down between your body and his, anticipation heightening as his fingers brush over your panties, cupping your warmth,,, a slight mumble escaping your lips, but not a sign you’ll wake,,, surely, it’s fine, isn’t it~? the thought not waking you up to ask only stiffening his clothed cock, soobin’s mind wandering as he imagines your cute subconscious whimpers as his length stretches you out, moaning in your sleep while he thrusts slowly,,, and god, he desires the fucked out sleepy look of confusion as his hot cum warms your tummy, leaking out of your cunt around his cock as he fills you up to the brim,,, all while you were so unaware, locked in sleep’s tight grasp… fuck, he wants it.

slipping your panties aside, fingers sliding up your folds, feeling the warm skin slowly dampen as your arousal wets his long fingers, just barely pushing past your entrance to feel your tight, warm pussy,,, and licking his lips as you whimper and shift closer to him, bulge in his sweats brushing against your tummy,,, god, he’s so big. shoving down his sweats, game forgotten as soobin touches himself, hard length sensitive and leaking precum down his shaft, a restrained groan of desire as he gazes down at your cute body in his lap, so unaware~~ and angling himself feels like an eternity, slowly pushing in as not to wake you from your slumber,,, fuck, soobin groans quietly, biting his lip as his head tips back, resisting all desire to fuck your cute cunt roughly without care,,, tight pussy clenching down instantly, warm and wet, barely able to push in,,, after all, without prepping you,,, too fucking tight. heat racing under his skin, almost crashing on his high when you moan quietly and shift deeper on his lap unconsciously, arousal soaking his cock as he bottoms out,,, and the sweet whimper as he feels the bulge in your tummy,,, his cock nestled deep inside his pretty love.

and soobin who slowly thrusts, savoring your unconscious responses of quiet moans and whimpers, shifting in his lap as if desiring more,,, fuck, he wants you to wake up all full of his seed now,,, can he really resist the thought of breeding you while you’re asleep,,, breeding you without asking~? you,,, wouldn’t refuse,,, right~? and how pretty you’d be all full of his cum, folds spilling his release as you sleepily look at him in confusion,,, and he can’t resist anymore. your eyelashes fluttering, awoken from the depths of sleep to feel soobin’s heart racing against your ear,,, and his hard cock slamming into your cunt as he grips your waist tightly, moaning swears as his tip hits your sweet spot, kissing your cervix with every thrust,,, and the sensation of a rush of hot cum filling you up to the brim, as soobin groans, holding your hips down to his,,, fuck, sweetheart, bred you so full, he sighs, high clouding his mind as his hand lands on your cheek, gaze hazy with arousal as his eyes meet your dazed ones, just as he fantasized,,, and without guilt. couldn’t help myself, had to use your pretty cunt, darling,,,

millie just thinks soobin is like so kinky FR LOL i feel like he’d be into free use n somno so bad n i can still write i swear ;-;

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Learn to Take "No" for an Answer

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic)

Alastor was often a busy man, but he always managed to keep tabs on you. The moment your heart rate started to increase, he could feel it. He’d stopped what he was doing immediately and went off to find you. The moment he saw you surrounded by Sinners, with Vox at the center, he was ready to initiate a massacre. 

But instead, he watched as you held your own, not once swaying from your opinions. 

Once you tackled Vox to the ground, though, Alastor knew he needed to step in. He knew you could definitely hold your own for now, but you were not powerful enough to combat Vox if he retaliated. He only wished he’d been able to watch you stab that knife through Vox’s throat…

A few minutes earlier...

Humming to yourself, you skillfully sidestepped a bloody corpse on the sidewalk. Sometimes all you needed was a nice walk to clear your head. Today, the walk improved your mood immensely. The only thing that could make it better was if Alastor started one of his broadcasts. You knew it was unlikely to happen, but that didn't stop you from glancing up at the speakers above the streets in hopes they'd turn on.

You passed by the VoxTek TV display, pausing to watch the news highlights. Another turf war on the other side of the city, an ad for some sort of imp hitman business, clips from the latest episode of Hell’s Next Top Idol. Anything owned by VoxTek wasn’t allowed in the hotel, which meant you didn’t have access to all the media you would’ve liked. Sometimes, watching the TV display was the closest thing you got. 

“Like what you see?” A tall figure suddenly appeared behind you. The small group of Sinners who’d also crowded around the TV display suddenly burst into exclamations and talking.

Turning around, you found yourself looking up at Vox's flatscreen face, causing you to grimace. 

“Oh, come now, don’t be like that. I expected better from Alastor’s little pet.” Vox was grinning slyly, arms behind his back with authority. “I have a proposition for you, sweetheart.”

“If you’re here to ask me to watch Al for you, the answer is ‘no.’” Glaring, you attempted to find a way out of the crowd circling around you and Vox, but the wall of Sinners had increased, becoming impenetrable.

Vox rolled his eyes. “Of course not, hot stuff. I’m not an idiot. Alastor doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t,” you shrugged. “Regardless, I really should be on my way.”

Even with that statement, the crowd of Sinners didn’t move. They were all watching Vox, enamored with the scene playing out in front of you. As your heart rate increased, you could only hope that Alastor would notice. 

“We should talk some more, sweetheart. You’re such a handsome little thing.” One of Vox’s hands reached towards your face, caressing your cheek. “If you ditched that old-fashioned prick and came with me instead, I think you’d find yourself much better off.”

Clenching your jaw, you angled your face out of Vox’s grasp. “I'm doing just fine as I am right now, thanks.” You made your voice cold, desperately trying to get your disinterest across. 

“Don’t be so sure.” Vox raised an artificial eyebrow. “I could give you more than Alastor ever could. Join me, and you can become one of Hell’s most powerful Overlords.”

The talking from the surrounding crowd grew louder, people taking pictures and recording the confrontation. The idea that Vox just asked to share his power with some random Sinner was crazy to the rest of the public. It wouldn’t take very long for word to travel all throughout Hell. The idea of your face plastered across cell phones and TV screens across the city made you nervous. Not to mention, you’d have to report to Vox, and he was an asshole. 

“I'm not interested,” you ground out, keeping your back straight to feign confidence. 

Vox scoffed. “Playing hard to get, are we?” He was grinning. “You look so fucking hot when you’re pissed off.”

Silently, you were begging someone, anyone, to come and rescue you. You couldn’t guarantee that you could keep your composure much longer. “I’m not interested,” you repeated, just as sternly. 

“Aww, are you mad, sweetheart?” Vox cooed mockingly. “Upset your owner isn’t here to save you? If you came with me, you’d never have to worry about being on your own.”

In a flash, your hands twitched and a knife was suddenly being held to Vox’s throat. You’d tackled him to the ground, the sharp blade reflecting your bright eyes. His eyes were wide, clearly not expecting you to retaliate.

“Call me sweetheart again and I’ll castrate you, you flat-faced fuck.”

“Oh my!” A dark shadow appeared behind you, quickly followed by Alastor’s tall figure. Despite his smile, you could clearly see he was just as pissed as you were. “Darling, is Vox bothering you?”

“Not anymore.” You pressed the knife closer to his neck, allowing a few droplets of blood to slide down the knife before withdrawing. Licking the blood off the blade, you gave Vox a dark grin. “You taste like battery acid. No wonder no one wants you.”

Alastor laughed heartily. “How true! Come along, my dear! Charlie is probably wondering where we are.” Placing your arm in his, you allowed Alastor to escort you away from the now-silent crowd. 

“I fucking hate that guy,” you snarled once you’d gotten a few blocks away.

“A nuisance, surely,” Alastor agreed. “I must say, you handled that wonderfully. Quite an entertaining display.”

Smiling lightly, you found yourself flushed at the compliment. “It was nothing. He just needed to learn to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Chuckling, Alastor matched your smile. “I’m sure you got the point along just fine, dearest. And if he didn’t…” Alastor’s face darkened, smile turning sinister. Now it was your turn to laugh, and that was how you walked into the hotel, giggling at each other like a couple of teenage girls.