#i love this fucked up baby and maybe his fucked up brother

[fee224]

First kisses

Rafe cameron x overlooked!reader

When he invited you over you were expecting a town house maybe, or an apartment. Just something smaller than this. He told you he lived alone, which meant a nineteen year old rafe Cameron owned this.

He told you he’d “swing by” after golf to pick you up, so now you were following after him as he swung his keys, leading you through the front door.

“All of this is yours?” You said, your mouth gaping accidentally. It had been four days since your date, and you for some reason missed rafe terribly.

“Ah yeah, kinda lonely sometimes but…. Not really here much so..” he rubbed his hand over his mouth. casually opening doors for you, only for you to wait for him to also come through the door so you were following him again.

“Hmmm it’s nice” you smiled up at him, and for some weird reason he took your smile as an invitation to hold your hand. So now he was holding your hand, leading you to the sliding glass doors that lead to his pool. “Glad you think so” he winked and your head span in the other direction quickly to hide the flush.

“You brought your bikini right? Or not bikini- your swimming costume or- whatever the fuck yo-” he stumbled over his words “uh huh I did” you smiled again, interrupting him, something he usually didn’t like, but he smiled.

“I actually saw ward and rose and wheezie at the club yesterday, I was wondering if you were with them” you sat on the beach chair next to rafes, stating the sentence you rehearsed in your mirror countless times, as a conversation starter.

“Well no, I was working yesterday so I opted out, only really see them at the weekend for barbecues now that I moved out” he dragged your beach chair closer, a makeshift beach bed, you lifted your legs, lying down and resting your hands on your stomach.

“How come you move out so early, seems so scary” you stared up at him as he adjusted the towel above you.

“S’not really, needed independence. I mean I love dad and rose, and my sisters but just prefer this” he shrugged, and when he laid down his more muscley arm brushed against yours.

“You like it all by yourself?” You pouted, although he couldn’t see when he laid next to you. You turned on your side so you felt like you were talking to him, so you could remember what it feels like later.

He sighed deeply “never said that, just….” His head shifted to turn to meet yours. You knew what he meant. You silently looked at each other until you spoke in a quiet whisper “why’d you call rose, rose not mom?”

“Shit i did, huh? Well rose isn’t my mom” you frowned in confusion.

“She’s not?” You’re surprised you didn’t know this, your mom knew the Camerons well, but she never mentioned that.

“No, ah mom died when I was small” you accidentally gasped, death stirring an odd reaction out of you always.

“M’sorry rafe” you reached out for him, and rested your hand on his which he just chuckled at, lifting his arm up for you, tucking you under.

“Watcha sorry for baby?” So casually he name dropped baby. You shook your head wanting to giggle and scream and not be as red as you were right now. You wondered what he thought of you. He had to have a romantic intentions if he was calling you baby.

“Nothing” you went quiet, so close to rafe, your head almost laying on his chest, being able to hear and feel his heartbeat.

“You should come” your head lifted, to gift a puzzled look “to a barbecue, meet my family” he nodded, trying to convince you.

“No no, I don’t think so..” your head flopped back down to rest on the skin lower than his shoulders.

“It’ll be fun. I mean dad usually has his brother and my cousins, Sarah brings John b, wheezie almost always has friends over. You can just stick by my side, it’s no pressure” his hand was stroking over your waist comfortingly and you softly shook your head again.

“Not good with people rafe” you murmured at the embarrassing fact. Refusing to look him in the eyes.

“S’not true, you’re good with me” you could hear the smile in his voice, and he could hear the nervousness in yours. He pinched your hip making you squeal, followed by a panting giggle as you tried to playfully push him, rafe not budging an inch.

“Move rafe!” You closed your eyes, pushing harder until he was lifting himself up, his hands reaching for your face, and kissing you.

It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, your first kiss, you weren’t sure what to do else than mirror rafes movements. His hands were in the chub of your hips, kneading your skin soothingly.

He was kissing you so delicately, painfully slow, so slow that you whispered a moan into his mouth. He pulled back, you staring at him, kissing your own lips inwards at the strange swelling feeling, a small giggle escaping your lips as you looked down at your fingers sitting in between your crossed legs, feeling silly.

“Thanks rafe” you whispered, still giggling at a tiny volume.

“Don’t thank me for kissing you” he smiled downwards, laughing too quietly. Doing everything to make sure you were comfortable and weren’t gonna run from him.

You leant over the deck chair to peck his lips once more before returning back to your chair. He smiled at your frantic sweet mannerisms, needing to desperately cool down in the pool.

- fee xxx

[morganski-19]

If Maddie Buckley has no defenders I am dead! Deceased, gone from this world.

Because tell me why this character has so much unnecessary hate surrounding her. I cannot search ep 4x05 on here without seeing this one Maddie hate post and it angers me so much.

Maybe this is just because out of everyone in the show, I relate to Maddie the most cause we're both eldest daughters and have complicated relationships with our mothers, but I would stand by this statement even without this.

I swear we need a Maddie begins so fucking bad, because all that we've gotten from her past was from Buck's perspective. I understand why they think they wouldn't need to do one because we already saw her life with Doug in flashbacks and her home life in Buck Begins, but there is still more we don't know.

What about actually seeing Daniel as a child, him getting diagnosed. Buck being born and Maddie slowly realizing why he was at all. Seeing her new baby brother get taken to the hospital just to get a needle stuck in his arm. Like her trauma with Daniel is never fully explored.

Not to mention the series of events that I know would have happened. "Oh why don't you smile, Maddie. I need to see your beautiful smile." "Our strong Maddie, keeping our spirits up." Come on it's right there.

Maddie was their perfect little daughter, so strong during the whole process. From the beginning to the end, she was their strong little girl. So when she acted out, or did what they thought was acting out, she broke that image. Her parents didn't want her to break their image of her.

It's why they hated Doug, not for what he did to her, but what it meant for them. He wasn't up to their standard, fit for their picture. They made a portrait of their life after Doug and anytime that Maddie or Buck broke it, they got angry. They needed Maddie to be the perfect one, and they needed Buck to be Daniel. Two things that are unattainable.

Not to mention that she is the only other person in the house who knew Daniel, and what they lost, so anything that she does to hurt them, they would use that against her. They use her as a sounding board for their grief and their anger about the situation.

Maddie has so much trauma, from her childhood, from her first marriage, and she doesn't always deal with it in the healthiest of ways. But tell me who in this show does. I never understand how people can hate her for what she's done when it's arguably at the same level as some of what the other characters have done, but they get passes.

Long ramble aside, I love Maddie, she's one of my favorite characters on this show, and I will never understand the hate that I see for her.

[darzdarz]

my son Miles and his brother Sonic

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[dirtytransmasc]

screaming and crying over Spider and Neteyam and Fable;

When I lifted his urn Divinity says, "Destiny can't be earned or returned" I feel when I question, my skin starts to burn Why does my skin start to burn? Capital loss Love was the law and religion was taught, I'm not bought Feel when we argue, our skin starts to rot Our skin starts to rot

So, share me your plan If I implore you, could I be your lamb? Understand I look for the truth in the back of your hand, and I Look into the open sky Stars blink like my brother's eyes Stars blink like my brother's eyes Stars blink like his eyes Like his eyes I dream of eternal life

Spider grieving the death of the baby brother he failed. he never pushed him away, he clung to him, he clung so hard, even if he did so quietly, because that was his first brother, his baby brother, in a way that Lo'ak was not (because first and younger are different. they matter the exact same, he could never have a favorite, but it's different in a way there are no words for). Neteyam could push and push and he'd still watch over him and love him and worry over him.

When I lifted his urn Divinity says, "Destiny can't be earned or returned"

Spider holding his baby brother one last time, even if he just sneaks into the mauri holding the dead, because he otherwise does not belong, scooping his head into his hands to kiss his forehead and whisper a goodbye and tell him he always loved him no matter what and that he's sorry. he's so sorry.

in that moment he realizes that their fate has come to end. they were always doomed. to be brothers. to fall apart. to never get a second chance. that no amount of goodness— because his baby brother was good. flawed. that's not even the right word, too harsh. he could call him flawed. no. no he was a child stumbling through life, a hard life, blindly. but he was good. always. always —could have given them a better fate.

I feel when I question, my skin starts to burn Why does my skin start to burn?

a flashback to Neteyam. maybe a memory in Eywa, when the soul of a boy who died too young with too many regrets and dreams and things to fix breaks through the idea of paradise, of peace and rest, of closure, and instead falls onto his brother.

the one he abandoned.

onto whispers— demon. he should be with his own kind. it is unbecoming of you. you need to be a warrior, Neteyam, not running of with him. he will only become his father. his blood bears his sins —that plagued him.

shame blisters his skin. it hurts. it aches. he turned his brother away over whispers? he hurt him over whispers? he put them both through so much pain over whispers?

it had always burned. the feeling was familiar. so familiar. every time he looked back to him and considered taking his hand or curling into his arms or falling into his lap, like old times, questioning why he had ever left this behind... it burned.

why did it burn? he used to think. and now he knows. shame. it was shame.

Capital loss Love was the law and religion was taught, I'm not bought

death. death and blood. death and blood and pain and...

words left unsaid.

clinging apologies.

pleading— take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. take me back. come back to me. please I'm begging you —words wanting to spill out at freely as the blood on the rocks

none of it was worth it.

love should have always come before hate.

hate was taught.

they only fell apart when they were old enough to understand what hate was.

when Neteyam was old enough to understand he should— according to his mother and his people and his clan and all the weight on his shoulders —hate his brother.

when Spider was old enough to realize no one but his brothers- brother and sisters liked him. liked him enough to fight for him. in their childish ways.

none of it should have been.

had there been love, maybe Neteyam would still be living and breathing. maybe it would have changed their fate.

Feel when we argue, our skin starts to rot Our skin starts to rot

another flash. the final fall out. a blow up.

desperate pleading once more.

Neteyam begging his brother to leave him alone, because he cannot keep pushing. it is breaking him. but he can't— he is not allowed to have him.

Spider finally breaking under the weight. he cannot keep doing this.

but as they walk away, nausea eats them away.

Neteyam will cling to each second he can pretend things were as they used to be.

Spider will watch silently.

they are dying.

long before their deaths; the death of a body, the death of a heart and mind.

they are dying.

they are rotting.

fading away

So, share me your plan If I implore you, could I be your lamb? Understand

Spider seeking out the Great Mother. offering himself a sacrifice. forever the lamb.

he did it long before now. before Neteyam was gone. when the war came. when the war parties went out. when Neteyam joined them. when he came back bloodied and bruised.

What is your plan? do you see blood? will take my blood instead of his? I will bare my neck, just leave my brother unharmed. please I beg. I beg.

he asked again when he was taken.

take mine, not his.

because Neteyam might have been a warrior, but he was also his baby brother, and he would always bleed first. he would bleed the blood that tore them apart to begin with.

and now he asks again, still trying to scrape his brother's blood from his nails.

why couldn't you do this one thing for me? why couldn't you let him live? why couldn't you take this hated blood? why could I be your lamb?

I look for the truth in the back of your hand, and I look into the open sky

Spider holding his baby brother's hand. again and again and again. growjng older, larger, wider, tougher each time.

holding it one last time.

tracing where stars should be.

they aren't there.

neither are the answers.

he looks up.

Stars blink like my brother's eyes

he wishes his brother would just open his eyes. that he would see that childish brightness—

hope and love and light and blissful naivety. unknowing of hate

—once more. just one last time.

the stars hold that light.

Stars blink like my brother's eyes

tears prick his eyes once more.

there are more stars in the sky than there ever were on his skin.

more light than there was in a lifetime of watching his eyes.

they had gone so cold and tired so fast, just like his shoulders.

Stars blink like his eyes

he stares up at the stars and cries.

Like his eyes

he wants his baby brother back.

he just wants him back.

he'd give anything.

I dream of eternal life

Spider prays for his brother's peace in Eywa.

Neteyam plays in the creek with his brother, a wide smile on his face.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

“you finally got adopted” really got to me because how long do you think eugene and lance hoped and hoped and hoped that they would get adopted, but they never did. and then they gave up and ran away. but he finally got adopted 🥺

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[borgialucrezia]

"There are moments where [Juan] manipulates other people in a similar the way they’ve been manipulating him. The scene between Jeremy and myself with the dagger is a last ditch frantic attempt at trying to win [Rodrigo] over." Do you think Juan was genuine in the knife scene? Do you think he would have killed himself? "Yeah I think so. He always does what is true inside him...It wasn’t simply about the eventual confrontation, but all about the richness of this twisted family make-up."

[cuteniaarts]

Small drawing collection of my latest creation Emran as a teenager/freshly minted Air Acolyte, for my dear partner in unhinged OC shenanigans @katkastrofa, as promised <3

[hauntingblue]

One thing oden and ace teach us is that bad bitches go early so you can understand how worried I am for nami....

[maegalkarven]

An interlude. What now?

Happens between Empty Prayers and Dreams of Red.

Nemo tries to be serious and Think of the Future. It backfires.

Characters: Dark Urge (Nemo), Enver Gortash, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel.

TW: mentions of cannibalism, questionable way to raise children (Nemo wtf), canon-typical Durge behavior.

Info about Nemo's assassins:

https://www.tumblr.com/maegalkarven/732101148639707136/so-i-actually-created-most-of-the-notable?source=share

"You do realize we all are doomed, right?" The question comes out of nowhere amidst of one of the calmest nights they have. It breaks the feeble illusion of peace right away.

"Now, you don't have to put it like that," Gale tries. "We still have some choices-"

"Blowing yourself up is not a choice," Wyll cuts out, uncharacteristically sour.

"But-"

"No, Gale," Shadowheart agrees. "No more stupid self-sacrifices for the gods who do not deserve that. Besides, you remember what Gortash said? What if you have done as Mystra wanted you to and detonated the orb in the illithid colony, it would turn every parasite-infested person into mindflayer?"

"I'm not sure how much we can trust a word of the former Chosen of Bane."

"Fair," the former Chosen of Shar agrees. "I wouldn't trust him either. But something tells me this time he was telling the truth."

"He also sits just across you, if your memory is that fragile," Gortash comments. "And thank you, not like I was thinking of impending doom and our deaths for every hour of every day now."

"Not like you kickstarted this whole event," Karlach comments.

"And what would you have me to do, let Orin kill Nemo?"

"Well, you could have not tried to conquer the world using the extremely dangerous magical artifact and, you know, the Elder Brain."

"You keep saying that, but I have yet to hear a single idea how to fix it and for us, you know, not die drastically and like fools."

"Everyone always dies like a fool," Astarion comments. "Death is dumb like that."

"If you'd only let me finish," Nemo raises his voice. "And stopped this 'woe are us, we are doomed' crying-"

"We are listening," Wyll tries. "Oh, well, at least I am trying to."

Nemo sends him a grateful look.

"Alright, let's start it anew, you literal bickering children-"

"Hey-"

"Gortash started it-"

"Oh, fuck off-"

"Quiet," and surprisingly, they all quiet down. This is who Nemo is forced to work with these days. Unbelievable.

"We are screwed. This is not me being overly dramatic, this is not me being pessimistic, this is the actual truth we're dealing with. The Elder brain has one stone and if it wasn't breaking out of the hold before - which he was, very much - it's clearly out of it now. Now, the questions why it hasn't turned everyone into mindflayers and why it's playing laying low for now is a mystery, but-“

"It's luring us back to it," Astarion comments. "What? Can't we offer our thoughts too? I didn't know it's One Man show you're having here."

"You have no idea how many people have been stabbed over interrupting him mid speech," Gortash comments. "Me included."

"Oh yeah, well, maybe try to not talk over me, asho-"

"I wasn't talking over you-"

"Just like you aren't doing it now?" Nemo glares at him. "You're lucky I need you alive."

"Thank you oh so kindly, the gracious one-"

"Tsk'va," Lae'zel interrupts the quarrel. "You two desire to tear into each other’s flesh so much it makes you stupid. Go get the urges out of the system and come back when you're capable of being rational."

This comment, made with intention of calming things down, has rather the opposite effect.

"You're the one to talk," Nemo hisses as his face reddens.

"I do not ‘desire to tear into his flesh’," Gortash argues.

Astarion laughs.

"Yes, and I am not a vampire spawn."

"Can we not fight?" Wyll, an unfortunate voice of reason amidst this chaos.

"Oh, I don't know," Gale smirks. "I rather find it amusing to watch."

"You know what?" Nemo snaps. "Go on, detonate this orb. I'm done with it."

"Now I'm not going to, purposely because you asked me so nicely."

"I fucking hate this family."

"Karlach, you already said that."

"It doesn't mean I hate it any less."

"I miss my children," Nemo suddenly chimes in. "They listened to me."

"Your who?"

"Oh, please," Gortash snorts. "I once saw one of your children stab her brother over something minor."

"It was their brother and it was nothing minor. He took their target, that's just rude."

"I'm sorry," Gale tries. "Can we backtrack now? What children are you talking about now?"

Nemo blinks at them.

"Oh," he exclaims. "My assassins, of course, the ones I personally brought into the fold."

"And the reason you address them as children is because..?"

"They were orphans Nemo picked up from the streets," Gortash mentions. "At least that's what I was told."

"Excuse me, what?" Karlach, indignation flaring with her fire. "You stole children?"

"First of all, it's kidnapped and not stole. Second of all, they came willingly," Nemo scoffs. "And really, do you think they had any other choice? Do you think any good life was waiting for them? I saved their lives."

"You've abducted children into the cult and made them killers," Wyll speaks. "Nemo, this is-"

"Wrong?" He interrupts. "How wrong can it truly be? They would die without me, or better yet, get killed. Do you think there's mercy for a girl who took a life of her stepfather? Whose mother blamed her for the murder even if said stepfather was in dire need of killing?" He pierces Wyll with a sharp stare.

"Do you think Flaming Fists would save a little tiefling boy with too much magic in his blood? Do you think they'd get to the mad crowd in time and protect the boy from it? Do you think they'd even care?  A tiefling child, an evil child, a hellspawn. No one would miss him, no one would cry for him. And," he smiles and this smile looks poisonous.

"Do you think your honorable father would spare a child whose survival was linked to the deal with the fiend? Do you think he, who exiled his own son, would look at destruction of the House Et'rris, at the only surviving its member, linked to a devil, and help them? Save them?" His voice drops to a low tone.

"How dare you judge me? You were not there to save these children, I was. What did I do but gave them a second chance? What did I do but gave them home? Where else would they go? Who else would feed starving orphans on the streets, Duke Ravengard?" He laughs an ugly, bitter laugh.

"The Council of Four? Don't be ridiculous, they never even looked down to see the low folk struggling. Those children, all those children would die if not for me. From the so-called justice, from an angry mob, from prison, from starvation. I found them, fed them, cared for them. I made them best of the best, the perfect murderers, the perfect shadows of the night. And who can hurt them now, when they're the worst things haunting Baldur's Gate? Who would dare to strike at them but their own? I made them strong."

The stunned, eerie silence falls over the camp.

Then Karlach raises her voice.

"What did you feed them with?"

"This is irrelevant."

"No, it's not."

"It was a good meat: not rotten, not touched by any diseases, I even cooked it-"

"I fed children the human flesh?!" Gale asks in horror.

"Of course you'd assume it was human," Nemo scoffs. "It was elven too, you know. Some dwarf meat, even halfling or tiefling there and there-"

"You did what?!"

"It was that or starving on the streets! And anyway, I was fed humanoid flesh my entire life and I turned out alright-"

Astarion scoots a little closer to Gortash.

"He did not turn out alright," the pale elf whispers, watching the argument rising to new, dangerous heights. "And you knew that, didn't you?"

"What Nemo eats flesh?" Gortash hums. "It wasn't a big secret."

"And what he feeds his...children the same?"

"It's a Cult of Murder," the man shrugs. "One expects some level of atrocities from it."

"That's not the answer."

"That's the one you'll get," Astarion watches Gortash watching Nemo, a small satisfies smile dancing on his lips. "I don't particularly care what he feeds his assassins, only what all of them seem to care very little for table manners."

"So I'm guessing you've met them?"

"Yes."

"...What are they like?"

"Why don't you ask their benefactor that and not the man who saw them once or twice?"

"Because their benefactor is currently in a screaming match with our companions," Astarion's shrugs. "Though he seems to be holding his ground just alright."

Gortash snorts.

"He used to lead fifty or so bloodthirsty murderers and made it look easy," another long, heavy look at Nemo. "He is good at handling people. Bhaal convinced Nemo the best thing a bhaalshapwn can be is a perfect blade, which is a shame, really. Nemo would do wonders in high court; he has enough charisma and intelligence to wrap the nobles around his fingers without them so much as noticing it.”

"It sounds like you admire him," Astarion comments, trying very hard not to feel slighted at that. Of course tyrant admires his nearest in dearest, it was to be expected. And anyway, doesn’t Nemo deserve to be admired?

But why does it sit so ill against his skin?

"Of course I admire him," the tyrant replies, not even looking away from the assassin. "He is brilliant. His part in our plans is not to be overlooked; everything came falling apart the moment Orin replaced him. Bhaal might have been content with a mad woman who could not control her urges, but our plan could not. She made a mess of things, ruined several of carefully constructed plans and hadn't even noticed. The amount of people I had to tadpole simply because Orin was acting unwise is-" he sighs. "Where Nemo would just waltz into the room, smile and bullshit his way through everything, Orin made things worse."

Astarion hums.

"I once saw Nemo convince an orthon to kill his minions, then his pet, then himself," he mentions. "So I can easily see him doing that."

"An orthon?" Gortash looks surprised. "Where in the Nine Hells did you find an orthon?"

"In a Gauntlet of Shar," Astarion shrugs. "He made an ill-fitted deal with Raphael and tried to get out of it. Nemo tricked him into false getaway."

Three's a long silence after that.

"Raphael," Gortash speaks slowly, as if tasting the words. "It's been a while since I've heard that name. How did you stumble into him?"

"More like he stumbled into us. He appeared from the thin air, laid heavy on those sweet talks of his and tried to talk Nemo into a deal. Probably still trying, all things considered. I am not sure what exactly he wants from Nemo, but he is insistent."

Gortash grows silent once more.

"I would advise against strikingly any deals with that particular devil," he comments after a pause. "Deals with him are even fouler than the deal with the devil would be expected to be. Raphael is clever; he is patient and knows how to play the game. Worst of all, he is at advantage of knowing Nemo while Nemo does not know him, and in the position where he is holding a grudge against the dear assassin of mine."

Astarion bites down the bitter taste of the way Gortash claims Nemo as his.

This can wait. His questions would not.

"Why would he hold a grudge against Nemo?"

Gortash actually laughs, a short lived and curt sound, but laugh none less.

"Because Nemo has done something Raphael failed to do. Raphael has been lusting after the Crown of Karsus for millennia, but was never able to relieve it from Mephistopheles' vault. Together Nemo and I successfully orchestrated and executed the plan what brought the crown into our hands."

So this is what Raphael wants.

"He is after the crown," Astarion comment. "And he thinks Nemo will be able to get it for him."

Gortash nods.

"And I can't express enough how this is absolutely a thing what cannot happen. Raphael is bad enough without a otherworldly power what is the Crown of Karsus in his claws."

"So," Astarion studies the man closely. "Better the crown in your hands then?"

Gortash smiles.

"Providing what we can get it off Elder Brain first and live," he comments. "But yes."

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Izana but give him a mental breakdown Golden Kamuy, chapter 310-style

[d0d0-b0i]

Word of advice from a guy who gets shit on by people hating his comfort medias. People are assholes sometimes for no reason, they hate art on a surface level because they want something to hate. Your favorite medias aren't bad, in my opinion they're really cool (people who can get into rwby are like superheros to me same with sonic but I'm slowly getting into that) don't listen to the haters and keep loving what you love!

ty fr 😭🙏 i am a consistent enjoyer of what people often consider "bad" media, but i never understand why its bad. it simply doesnt register

[truthundressing]

success 😎

[chewingbatmanlikeasqueakytoy]

Alternatively:

Talia: Damian, you will be going to live with your father. Pack your things.

Damian AND Danny: Yes Mother.

Talia: **Flash back to this morning when Danny beat one of their best instructors in a fight, only to fumble putting the sword away and bring the entire rack down on his head. The lazarus water is still drying in his hair.**

Talia: Not you Danyal, Only Damian. You will not survive your fathers house.

DPxDC Al Ghul Twins Quick Thought

Jason, visiting the manor the first time after Damian showed up: *does a double take* Where's the second one?

Damian, stopping in his tracks and looking him dead in the eye: Dead.

Jason, rolling his eyes but dropping the subject: Alright.

The entire Batfam:

[coweye]

The Honda Odyssey

Logan Howlett x Reader | smut | 6k words Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the adoration he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance.

Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.

If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.

In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.

Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.

So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.

One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.

Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men.  Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.

No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.

In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.

To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.

“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “

“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”

“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.”  Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”

You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.

You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.

“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”

“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.

It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.

Wrong.

You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.

Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.

Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.

Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.

Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.

For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.

Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.

You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since. 

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.

In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”  

Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.

“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.

Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.

Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.

Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.

You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.

Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.

It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.

Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.

Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.

Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.

That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.

It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?

In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.

You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.  

Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.

Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.

“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.

Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?

“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”

“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.

The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.

 “I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.

Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.

“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”

You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.

Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.

“You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.

“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”

“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.

It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.

You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?

The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.

One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.

All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.  

With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.

“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.

“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.  

Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.

“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.

“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”

“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”

You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.

“He say where he was taking him?”

“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.

“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”

“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”

“Can you do your sniffy thing?”  Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.

“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.

“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.

“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”

“You can smell him from the car?”

“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”

“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.

After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.

“What’s your world like?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“

“What did you just say?”

“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“

“No before that.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.

The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.

“What do you mean if?”

“I…”

“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”

“I mean I think they can!”

“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.

“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.

“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”

“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.

“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”

“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.

“No – fuck you.”  Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “

He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together.  “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”

Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.

“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.

“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.

“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.

The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.

“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.

Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda. 

Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.

If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.

It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.

Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.

Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.

“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.

Yes.

You really do that.

You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.

“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.

“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”

The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.

“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”

Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.

The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.

The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss.  His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.

You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply.  Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.

He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.

Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.

You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.

“You sure you want this Darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”

Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.

“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core.  “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”

Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”

You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.

“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.

Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.

You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.

Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.

“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”

You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.

“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”

He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.

The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.

You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.

You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.

“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you.  If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.

The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes.  Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.

“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.

You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.

You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.

Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.

“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.  

Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.

Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.

“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.

When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.

“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.

“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.

“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.

“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.

You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.

Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.

The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.

After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.

The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.

“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.

“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.

“Well, well, well.  Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."

Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.

"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone!  Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”