#me? writing? wow

[aro-laurance-zvahl]

I am SO happy about Zane’s win in the @falseprophetpoll tonight. I genuinely thought it was the end for him, I thought Volo was the end for him, but it wasn’t. He made it through based on the MCD fandom’s sheer determination and wonderful propaganda. He’s going to the finals! This is some insane underdog story.

I wanted to throw together a little something to celebrate this unbelievable win. So have a few hundred words of Belos falling victim to Zane.

TW for things you would expect during a fight to the death. Like light gore and. Death. But it’s minor death because it has no bearing on their actual reality

—

“I’ll admit, I’m impressed. I frankly didn’t think I would have a hard time against anyone here,” Zane pulled off the mask that had been soaked through with his blood, cornering the quivering pile of slime and bone, “Like that one boy, Volo. He barely ever lifted a finger in his world, hoping a child would just do the work for him, not even forcing them. Pathetic, but you? Well you and me aren’t that different,”

Belos’ dripping face still managed to form itself into some sort of sneer, empty sockets lit with blue glaring into the high priest that stood in front of him, “I am nothing like you! You witch!”

“I am not a witch, all my magic and gifts are from a god! Just like yours,” Zane’s voice straddled the line between friendly and mocking, although the circumstances made it clear which it was, “See? So much in common. From our thirst for power, being masters of manipulation and betrayal, and oh our brothers even share horrible taste in women! It will be the death of mine’s as well. If all that makes me a witch well...what does that make you, Emperor?”

Belos snarled, attempted to spring himself against Zane to try and gain some semblance of control over the situation again. This move however was not new at this point in the battle, Zane easily being able to side step as Belos instead smeared himself across the floor. Zane couldn’t help but think he was just a worse version of a shadow knight, an immortal born from a betrayal but he just kept rotting instead of becoming better.

“I have the support! I am known! You are a rotted insignificant speck compared to me!” Green goop flew off Belos’ misaligned jaw as he tried to claw apart Zane’s confidence after the failed attack, but he seemed more bothered by another stain added to his attire.

“And you think everyone that came before you were not known? You think no one cheered for Volo? Think no one sent Wizzy gifts to try and help slay me?” Zane laughed as he took slow steps towards the beast, taking care to step on one of the protruding bones as he towered above the once massive creature, “Overconfidence in those who support us is such an easy way to fall my Emperor. It doomed my brother, it doomed your brother, it will doom the gods of my world, it will doom my father, but tonight? Tonight it doomed you.”

Zane stood at the center of Belos’ and then lifted his boot, and slammed it through his skull. The old brittle bones cracked and crumbled easily from the pressure, the rest of the bones falling into the now deaminated pile of sludge. Zane knew his death wouldn’t be so simple in Belos’ home realm, the magic boiling through him was too powerful for that despite how messy it was, but in this realm of white rooms where cheers and gifts mattered despite no clear source, it was enough.

He turned towards the sound of a small familiar whoosh, the appearance of an open door signaling his victory. He wouldn’t admit it, but this was his hardest battle yet. Perhaps it was because of his opponent’s size, or his access to some kind of magic, or even because of the not quite clear similarities between them.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. The cheers for him were louder, his gifts more plentiful, and his own maniacal power was strong as it surged through him. All that was left for tonight was to clean his opponent off his skin and don a fresh high priest’s uniform before meeting his next, his final, opponent.

May Irene be with him.

[aro-laurance-zvahl]

“We’ve got him, we’ve finally got him!” The captain sounds near hysterical as he heard the news, the right hand man of the local mafia boss had finally slipped up.

Thoughts and possibilities are flooding through his mind, he thinks of how much it would take to make the man turn on his boss. Immunity? Witness protection? Whatever it takes, he thinks they can manage it. Of course he will probably walk back onto the streets, but he’ll mess up again and that time he’ll have nothing useful to follow.

The detective eyed his boss nervously, face twisted in a grimace as he tried to stamp out the excitement, “Sir you must let me finish, you don’t understand-“

“What don’t I understand? We’ve got motive, the weapon, it was even caught on tape! We’ve got him!” The captain waved his hands wildly, desperate to hold on to this piece of hope.

“He said whoopsie, clear as day, before the victim even hit the ground,” The detective averted his gaze as he saw his captain’s face fall in realization, “It’s on the tape, no lawyer worth their salt would miss it,”

The captain’s expression slowly morphed into rage, fists curling before colliding them with the desk, “Goddammit! He can’t keep getting away with this!”

“He’s the best for a reason,” Is the only piece of consolation the detective can offer, but the helplessness to stop this monster still plagued them both.

Curse the cosmic law of whoopsie.

[quadrantadvisor]

Thinking about DP x DC Jason Todd being a revenant again. Here's my scenario. Jason gets called that by some ghost. He's like "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's heard the term before but he doesn't know any actual lore. He googles it. He scrolls past the Leonardo DiCaprio bear movie. He opens the wiki. Sees the words "animated corpse" and gets a chill diwn his spine. He starts reading the first section.

He closes Wikipedia.

That night he has a nightmare that his family buried him, again, this time with precautions. He wakes up in his own grave, full of stones, too heavy to move, to scream.

[zephyrchama]

I hope demons have sayings that sound really weird and messed up to humans, just as there are many diverse sayings across varying human languages that don't always translate easily.

---01

Lucifer looked up warily as you entered his office before breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought you were Mammon, here to give me another headache."

You strided over to his desk to take a peek at what he was working on. It looked boring. "We both know you love your little brother. What could be so bad this time?"

Lucifer buried his eyes in his hands, brushing his hair aside with the tail end of a pen. "He's been gnawing on my toenails all week."

You coughed in surprise, smacking your chest to loosen up the muscles so that clarifying questions could be asked. "What? Why? How?"

"Just general Mammon buffoonery as usual. For some reason he's especially persistent this week."

"I have literally never seen Mammon chewing on toenails..." Your lip curled back in disgust just imagining it. "Has he... done this before?"

"What?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes, puzzled. "Oh." His gaze softened once he realized what was happening and he huffed in amusement. "Mammon hasn't actually been gnawing on my toenails. It means he's getting on my nerves, as you might say."

You clasped your hands together and sighed, letting a wave of relief wash over you. "Please. Just say that next time."

----02

"C'mon, c'mon! If ya move any slower I'm gonna exfoliate Diavolo!"

You were running as fast as you could, despite Mammon being the reason for your tardiness. You didn't have much to lose, but Mammon could be in deep trouble for missing another morning class.

You wheezed and almost ran into him, not realizing he kindly came back to carry you. "Wh..." After a few deep breaths, you choked out your question. "You're gonna what? To Diavolo?"

Mammon thrust his bag in your arms in a rush and picked you up instead. He spoke as he began running, "yeah. He's gonna have my neck if I'm late again!"

"I get that, but is Barbatos gonna make you wash him...? Or...?"

"Wha? Are you still half asleep? Is that why you're runnin' so slow?"

You leaned your head back against his upper arm to stare up at him in frustration. He couldn't ignore your pouty face inches from his own. Mammon's ears grew red. "Knock it off!"

"Tell me what you mean!" you ordered.

Mammon growled and ran even faster. "What do you mean? I'm just tryna get us to class!"

---03

You scooted your seat closer to Leviathan. He perked right up and froze as you approached to whisper in his ear.

"Levi, XYZ."

"W-w-what? Is that a code?"

"No, XYZ. PDQ."

He reached for a pen and began noting the letters down. "P... D... Q... Got it. What's next?"

You shook your head. "No, Levi, your barn door is open."

"What game are we talking about? I haven't picked up Moondrop Basin in a few weeks."

You made a zipping-up motion with your hand. "Your fly!"

"Oh." Leviathan ruffled the back of his hair and swatted the air around his head. "Is it gone now? I didn't see any bugs."

Though reluctant to be so blunt, you were out of euphemisms. "Levi, your pants' zipper is open."

With an "eep!" he turned away to fix his problem. It took a few seconds. In his haste, the zipper kept getting stuck. He was mad when he turned back around, his face colored crimson. "Why didn't you just tell me? Without turning it into... into some game!"

"I did! XYZ, PDQ, That's what we say in the human world! Examine your zipper, quick!"

"That's so dumb!" he seethed, punching his knee. "What a spumid flaming cabbage. Your sayings are so weird."

---04

"Ready for the next one?"

"Hit me," you told Satan.

He grimaced from across the desk, raising his eyes from the paper to look at you in concern. "What? No, I'm not going to do that."

"Not literally, it's a human saying. It means 'give it to me,' or something like that."

"Oh." Satan jotted that down in the margins of his own notes before reading off the next phrase on his list. "This is one of my favorites. It's a colorful saying, but if you're really mad at someone you can call them a snot-cobbling banshee. I like to say this while cursing their next three generations."

You wrote that down. "How often do you use this saying?"

"Not too often. Well, maybe once a week with my brothers. It goes along with this next phrase which implies someone is dangerously stupid. Barbed dingbat."

You nodded. You were truly learning so much on this cultural exchange program.

---05

Asmodeus came into the kitchen as you were preparing dinner and wrapped his arms around your neck. He looked exhausted.

"Careful, I've got a knife, don't want to accidentally nick you," you warned. "What's up? Long day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Asmodeus peeped over your shoulder to look at the vegetables you were cutting. "I'm so glad you're home. You know, all day, all I could think about was..."

He proceeded to say some incredibly vulgar things. Detailed depictions of debauchery. Irredeemable acts of indecency that cannot be repeated on this blog. It made you put the knife down in a tizzy.

"Are those more demon idioms?" You snickered awkwardly and wiped your hands on a towel. "I've been learning about your sayings recently. Can't say I've heard those ones yet."

"What? Oh, no." Asmodeus lifted your hand, raising it to his lips to lick a stray fleck of vegetable skin off your fingertip. "These aren't sayings, this is just stuff I've wanted to do all day."

---06

"I could just eat you up."

This was something Beelzebub said often, and something he repeated again today. His hands were occupied with a fresh four-pounder with cheese, but his eyes kept drifting from it to watch you shoot paper balls into a wastebasket.

"You know, humans have the same saying. Isn't that funny?" You bounced up to grab some of the wads on the floor that didn't make it into the basket, to try again.

Beelzebub swallowed the mass in his mouth. "Really?" he asked between bites. "I thought you guys stopped doing cannibalism, mostly."

"Uh." You missed your throw. What should have been an easy shoot bounced off the edge and rolled away from the wastebasket. "Yeah, we did. Just so we're on the same page, you're saying I'm cute, right?"

Beelzebub was concerningly quiet as he chewed.

---07

"Are you on your way back to class?" Belphegor stopped you in the hall. You hadn't even seen him there on the ground, curled up next to a shady pillar.

"Skipping class again?" you asked. "I thought you liked magic theory."

"Maybe," he yawned. "It's too easy sometimes."

Belphegor fished around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a tightly folded-up sheet of paper. He offered it up. "Can you turn this in for me? I don't want my grades dropping over late homework."

"Sure thing, but it might be better to turn it in yourself. I heard Barbatos is doing random checks in all classes this week. He'll notice you missing."

"Nah." Belphegor's head drooped down as he prepared to doze off again. "If you see him, just tell him I'm being flerchen in the garden."

That sounded innocent enough. "Okay. What does that mean?"

"Means I've got the sniffles," he lied.

---08

Barbatos' eyes grew big and he placed a hand over his heart, furthering crumpling Belphegor's homework sheet in the process. He looked around to make sure nobody overheard before leaning in. "I must ask that you never say that again."

Behind him, Diavolo's palm was clasped over his mouth as he struggled not to draw attention with loud guffaws. He had his back to the classroom, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"Why not?" You nervously shifted from one foot to another. You'd been had.

"It's not a topic I can explain here. Perhaps you and the Young Master should excuse yourselves for now. I'll come collect you both later."

Barbatos readily escorted you and Diavolo out of the room, shutting the door behind you so that class could begin without interruption.

"I'm just the messenger," you tried to defend yourself. Diavolo's fit of giggles was renewed. He grabbed on to your shoulder for stability while doubled over, trying to ride out the laughter.

"Did... did Belphegor tell you to say that?" He wiped a tear running down his face. You furiously nodded.

"Haha! Do you remember where he's hiding? I'd sure like to have a word with him."

You couldn't tell if Diavolo was going to praise Belphegor or tear him a new one. Perhaps a mix of both. However, the curiosity over what you said was overwhelming. You wanted to know the full extent of what it meant before seeing Belphegor again.

You decided to bargain with the prince. "I'll show you, but first you have to tell me what that means."

[newttxt]

and thats a wrapppppppp!!

from the 10th and final chapter of utilities included

masterpost

[sieglinde-freud]

ekko having x’s sprayed all over him and jinx wearing the firelight symbol into battle what in the fresh hell kind of affection is this. are u telling me they were late to the fight bc they were busy DOODLING on eachother??? what the hell. WHAT THE HELL. im sick. theyre so cute are you joking. and then they didnt even show us that scene like fuck off riot

[robiinurheart33]

Ok ok Johnny but he can’t accept the fact that people love him?

First girlfriend. Went south real fast and realised he was gay.

First boyfriend. Was bi-curious. First heartbreak too.

Second boyfriend. Only wanted him for his body. Self explanatory.

Third boyfriend. Way too emotionally unavailable, felt like they weren’t even dating at a point. Turns out he already has a partner.

You get the gist.

At a very young age, Johnny was aware of his unfortunate personality. School fights, family scoldings, bedroom sobbing, it’s all just a blur to him now. It’s not like he had the worst life out there, no. But he can’t shake the fact that he can’t really remember anything about his childhood. The trauma stuck though, unfortunately.

He could never really seem to shake off that “unloveable” blanket on his shoulders.

It’s not that bad, in retrospect. His friends like him, sure. They tolerate him. He knows he’s loud, he knows he’s brash, he’s a lot to deal with! He understands. So every once in a while, he’ll just…back off. Leave everyone alone and just spend some time alone. The horrors do get to him when he’s alone in his room, clutching the fabric of his shirt and trying to get ahold of his breathing, but it’s basically nothing to what everyone else has to endure! He’s selfish, he knows it already, always needy, always wanting. This is the least he can do to make sure that his loved ones aren’t tipped over the boiling point and actually leave him for good.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself at times.

Then he meets ghost.

Powerful, strong, admirable Ghost. He blew his fucking lid. He’s even bigger than the rumours suggest. He’s professional, clean. He’s everything that Soap wishes to be.

He’s jealous right off the bat. How could he not be?

Honestly, he feels a bit bad for the guy at the start. Soap’s laying it on thick with the touching and the questions. He’s obviously fucking with him a bit, bit to be fair he’s not really doing much to stop him either. As time goes on, it becomes a weird sort of admiration/jealousy thing. He still is jealous of Ghost, but not to an extreme extent that he could be.

Ghost is another very peculiar case, one that Soap doesn’t seem to mind prodding. After a few missions together, he could see why he was so infamous. But still, Ghost wasn’t pushing back. Has anyone done this to him before? Why was he just letting this happen? Ghost might find him weird, sure, but he’s the most curious disturbing motherfucker soap’s ever met.

The army isn’t exactly a place to find someone to get their dick wet, homophobes around the corner at every turn. Soap’s just accepted it as part of life now, not really wanting to think much on it but having that fact lurk at the back of his mind. It’s a bit depressing, sure, to not have anyone get to know his actual self, but then again he was sure that anyone who truly got to know him wouldn’t talk to him ever again. If it’s not the gay thing, it’s the army thing. If its not the army thing, it the personality thing. Whatever. John’s gotten used to it.

However, though some unexplainable force (the SAS and Price), Soap and Ghost had become some sort of dynamic duo now. They’d fought together, lost together, gone through some of the most horrific weathers known to man, and they’d both survived under some miracle. Well, soap survived. He never doubted ghost would.

He got very close though. Way too close for Soap’s liking. They were in some fuck-ass country upside down the earth, down to his last mag and ghost clipped in the shoulder. They were hauling ass just- away. They didn’t know when exfil would get there, or where. Their main objective was just to survive. Ghost was making a very vulnerable wheezing sound from his throat and Soap’s gun was overheating, burning though his gloves.

“Soap- Sargent.” Ghost whispered, somehow always remaining calm in the most chaotic situation Soap’s been in so far. Either that, or he’s just really fuckin tired.

“No’ now, L.T, tryna get us to safety.”

“Soap, leave me behind.”

“What? Listen, I’ve got no time for your stupid heroism crap, okay? Just- shut up.”

“MacTavish, im serious. I have nothing waiting for me. I’ll be okay. Just go. Stay safe.”

“Whot the hell did i just say?” He snapped, turning towards him. “I’ve go’ no time for this. You’re coming wit me whether you like it or not.” Soap jabs a finger into his chest, leaning in close until he’s sure Ghost can see the faintest scar on his right eyebrow from screwing around with a razor with his friends, trying to give himself a eyebrow slit.

“You’ve got me, haven’t ya? You’ve got Price, and the people on your team are counting on you. I’m counting on you. So you can die somewhere else, in the bumfuck a’ nowhere, but you’re not allowed to die today, now. Ya hear me?”

Like this, gunpowder and dust making his nose itchy, looking intensely at Ghost to make sure his point is drive home, there’s a look in his eyes that soap thinks he’s never seen before. He- he kinda looks like-

How Soap looks at Ghost.

With admiration.

Oh.

So, yeah. They ran out of there on the air of their asses, Soap laughing as the final hits of adrenaline pulses his heart, Ghost leaning against him with the same look in his eye, and they’ve never exactly been the same after that.

Soap chalked it off as it being in the heat of the moment kinda thing, but he’s been consistently catching Ghost’s eye staring at him from a distance away, just staring, with that strange look in his eye. Not always with the same emotion, Soap guesses, but still. It’s close enough. He doesnt know what’s happening, or what he did, but something changed. And it’s driving him insane. It’s not that Ghost wasn’t already friendly in his own weird ghost way, but now he’s being friendly in a normal way.

It’s so weird.

He’ll be waiting at the gun range for Soap like he knows he’d appear there, toss him an apple when he feels peckish, slap his hand away when he needs to change bandages muttering something about him not doing it properly. It’s weird, and it’s nice, and it’s making soap feel all itchy and hot. he can’t even scratch himself anymore as a soothing tick, Ghost will just slap his hand away and grumble a “stop that.”

It’s weird, and soap can’t help but enjoy it.

He feels a bit selfish, feeling like he’s somehow taking advantage of ghost’s kindness, but for what? He’s feeling guilty but what exactly is he being selfish about? Maybe a mental checkup is in order, he’s losing his mind a bit. They’re friends, that’s all. It’s not…that unheard of that ghost would have friends, isn’t it? He should feel honoured to be his…fist? Again, Soap doesn’t know a lot about him.

Time passes. He dips his toes in guerrilla warfare for the first time, can’t say he’s a fan. Been backstabbed, shot, and survived. Hes earned his nickname, and sticks by it. (Hah) Though thick and thin, Ghost’s been there throughout it all. An angel guiding him to the churches, a leader who he would follow to the pits of hell, a friend when he needed one. After all that, the questions just never seemed to slow down. About his family, himself, his hobbies… to keep him awake, to pass the time, just whenever. Mostly Soap would get grumbles and short answers, proper sentences if he’s in the mood (which is all the time) or drunk enough. He’s flustered under all the attention and he knows it, itching beneath the helmet and the layers of armour. Soap is brash, and loud, and a little bit of a pyromaniac. He knows it. He’s fine with it. All jagged edges, no slowing down in sight. He doesnt know what to do with the change coming. He does the only thing he knows to do. He runs. After all of it is said and done, with makarov in the streets now, not much is to be done other than waiting for further instruction.

Applies leave for a few days, rented a airbnb online, have some alone time. Reset. Easy. Simple. Hes done this all his life. But when he was just about to slip out, Ghost suddenly appeared right in front of him.

“Gah- Jesus, fuck, ghost. What’s wrong?”

“You’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I am. You signed off on the papers.”

“Why?”

“Just…some time. To myself.”

“Is that it?”

“…yeah?” What else does he want me to say?

Ghost looks like he.. squirms a bit, which is weird. Ghost doesn’t squirm.

“Just… the countryside. And stuff.” This is the worst casual conversation he’s ever had with Ghost.

“Um… i got you something.” Then he’s holding something out.

“Huh? Really- this is a rock.” What the fuck.

“It’s a rock from Las Almas.”

“You… kept a rock. From Las Almas. What, you couldn’t have stopped by an actual gift shop just around the corner? I think i saw one right around where i found your knife lodged into-”

“-You done yet?” He snaps.

“Apparently not, sir. You wanna explain the rock?” Soap’s being a bitch.

“Just that… you’re going to be alone… and. Makarov.”

“It’s a legitimate place, ghost. you wont find anyone there.”

“Not just that, it’s like-” He groans slightly and scratches the back of his head. “You’re going to be alone, and the last time you were alone..”

Oh.

“It’s just a reminder that like, I wasn’t going to give it to you this soon but, i was there. With you. You weren’t truly alone, johnny. And.. you’re going to be alone now. Actually alone. And i just….its. I’m here. At Redhill. I’m going to be here. You know where to find me.”

You’ve got me, haven’t ya?

Oh shit.

Soap doesn’t know what to say. He can feel the tip of his ears burning, pricking down his cheeks and flush down his neck. He doesnt know how to stand properly, what to say, how to think. Because everything he;s thinking right now should not be applied to his lieutenant.

This doesn’t mean anything, right? It doesn’t change anything. It’s still the same. Soap knows that Ghost cares about him. He’s his Sargent. He’s his Sargent. But not in that way. They’re friends. The rock from Las Almas. He’s fine. They’re fine. It’s just like the rock is a physical manifestation and real evidence that Ghost may or may not like him. Jesus, he shouldn’t think like that. He’s too quiet. He should say something. His lips twitch.

“Thank you.” THAT’S IT?? SAY MORE.

“I’ll know where to look, then.” Soap gives the most half flustered, half assed smile he’s ever given to anyone. He cant even begin to imagine how he looks right now. His heart pulls. Ghost looks away. He feels like he’s going to be swept off his feet in a bad (good) way.

“Right then.” He clears his throat, disappearing down the corner of the hallway. Soap gapes as he stares after him. What was that? What was him? What? He looks down at the heavier-than-it should-look rock in his sweaty palms, and swallows.

This doesn’t change anything. They’re still working together. They’re the lieutenant and Sargent of the 141 Taskforce. He’s fine. They’re fine.

Everything is okay.

[gl1tched-g0th]

"Wow you write this character really well!" Thanks I knew them personally

[astrobolical]

Okay.

As much as I love feral Satan, who lets his instincts run wild and growls, bites and everything else… his soft side is so fuckin’ cute.

The Satan that stares at you in confusion as you tend to a small cut on his hand he’d received on one of his rampages, unbothered by the mess around the two of you and concerned solely with him. How he doesn’t quite know why his chest feels so warm and tight as he looks at your gentle, concerned expression.

Satan, who doesn’t understand why he feels so weightless with you, why his heart flutters and why he wants to hold you so gently, as if cradling something precious.

Satan, whose anger fades just from your presence alone, overtaken with feelings he’s never experienced, that baffle him entirely but he can’t get enough.

Satan, who desperately throws himself into research just to understand you a little more, to put a name on how he feels about you— who’s just as afraid of his own feelings as he is elated by them.

Satan, who worries you’ll be frightened of him if his temper rises, but you never are, even when he tells you that you should be.

Satan, who lays beside you, watching your sleeping face and utterly baffled that you trust him so completely to allow him to see you in such a vulnerable state… who knows deep down he’ll protect you forever.

Satan, who fumbles each time he tries to explain any of this to you, whose face becomes adorably reddened with each failed attempt.

Satan, who realizes that you’ve accepted him entirely, his every fault, his everything, before he had even come close to accepting himself. Who loves you more than he could ever put to words, or that he could ever really comprehend.

Just him. You know? Ahh, just helping him come to terms with everything he doesn’t know, to grow and understand. Helping him, in the end, to love.

[euthymiaaa]

— taking a bath with a lover *ੈ✩‧₊˚

non-sexual & a bit silly lol, enjoy!!

✧ after an exhausting day, what other way to relax your partner than preparing them a warm, blissful bath?

✧ dousing the bathtub with their favorite aromatic flowers and oils

✧ “honey, what’s with all of this in the bathroom?” “you came back early? the surprise got ruined!”

✧ aiding them undress, yet it takes longer than usual because you keep getting their clothes tangled

✧ lending a hand to cautiously help them get into the pool of water

✧ "gosh it's the perfect temperature" "oh thank god, i thought it would still be too hot"

✧ blowing soap bubbles into their face to briefly annoy them

✧ "aren't you going to join me darling?" "if you insist"

✧ relaxing them by delicately massaging their hair in circles with shampoo

✧ “careful! you’re going to get shampoo in my eyes!” “oh quit being so dramatic”

✧ listening about their day whilst lightly massaging the knots in their back

✧ peppering tender kisses along their exposed shoulder

✧ “i never realized you have so many moles around here”

✧ tracing their scars with the tips of your fingers

✧ them burying their head into your neck, eyelids getting heavy out of tiredness

✧ “you better clean up after” "yes, your highness"

✧ "even though this was a mess, i'm glad i could spend time with you like this"

[aro-laurance-zvahl]

A Dance Under The Stars A Garroth/Zoey Oneshot

Summary: Garroth and Zoey share an impromptu dance as night falls.

Helpful Context: A moment from my rewrite. Takes place sometime around season two, near the end or post. Lynn is the name Lillith Garnet has in my rewrite (her full name being Lauralynn Garnet), and while Garroth and Aphmau are coparenting they are not romantically involved at this point

While I didn’t incorporate Aphmau seeing it, thank you @freddiefagbearsdiner for plaguing me with the wonderful image of Garroth and Zoey dancing

—

The stars were just appearing across the sky as Garroth and Zoey made their way down the path from Aphmau’s house, having just joined her and Lynn for dinner. The night was peaceful and the town below them was quiet, most noises they heard coming from the wind and wildlife.

Garroth was usually one for silence, he enjoyed the clarity it provided his senses, but something about being with Zoey made him want to speak, “I’m sure Aphmau already told you, but dinner was wonderful,”

Zoey gave him a small smile, wondering when she would get sick of compliments to her cooking, “Thank you, it’s always nice to know it truly is enjoyed,”

“Your cooking actually reminds me of my mother’s, it’s...it’s nice,” Nice did not begin to describe the nostalgia Zoey’s dishes occasionally captured, but it was the only word that Garroth could think of.

“Really? Was she a big cook?” Zoey nearly pounced into the opportunity to learn about Zianna, memories of her always seemed to bring Garroth more joy than pain compared to the rest of his family and her bloodline was truly fascinating.

“Oh yes, she practically lived in the kitchen. It...it was her happy place I think,” Garroth’s words trailed near the end, voice getting a little quieter as bittersweet memories from the kitchen flickered through his mind.

Zoey could feel the sad edge to the statement, something rustling just under the surface which she would help him face another day, “Did she ever teach you how to make anything?”

“No, not for a lack of trying though. I...I just never took that time. My days were often filled with lessons and the free time I did have I just...I didn’t want to spend it in the kitchen so she always cut me loose,” Garroth tried to keep his tone light, as if he was making fun of the restlessness of his child self, but the regret plaguing his words was hard to miss.

“Was there anything she did teach you?” Zoey tried to pull him away from the feeling, hoping whatever he could think of might bring a smile to his eyes.

“...Dancing. She was...very insistent we all learn how to properly dance with a girl. I was somehow the best at it between the three of us,” Garroth didn’t think that was all too impressive though, considering how Vylad had nearly lost a tooth and Zane could never stop stepping on people’s toes.

However Zoey’s interest was piqued, part of her wondering why she had never even considered the fact he would have skills like that, “You know how to dance? Ballroom dance I’m assuming?”

“If I remember any of it, yes,” Garroth doubted he did, at least doubted he remembered anything beyond simple steps.

“...Will you dance with me?” Zoey stopped in the middle of the flat part of the path, suddenly overcome with a need to see this man dance like a noble.

Garroth had to turn back and step over to where she had suddenly stopped, a look of confusion on his face from her request, “Here? Now?”

Zoey nodded, this was the flattest part of the pathway down and was safe from foot traffic because of the time, anyone coming up would be doing so because of an emergency, “Yes here, yes now. I want to see how good you are,”

“I-I can’t just start dancing, I would need some music,” Garroth stammered out his reasoning, still not over the nearly out of the blue request he doubted he could fill.

Zoey reached out and tugged him a step closer, determined to get him to dance, “That is a problem I can solve,”

Zoey rested a hand on his shoulder and pulled one of his hands into a waltzing position and then started singing to continue to try and get him to dance with her. The song was an Elvish one, he was able to make out the occasional word from what Zoey had been teaching him but most of it held no meaning to him. Her efforts were rewarded thoughts he finally relented, his other hand resting on her waist as he tried to fall into the flow of the song and give her the dance she had somehow roped him into.

And so they danced. Garroth knew it was not his best, probably for a large variety of reasons ranging from their ballroom floor being an uneven path to years of rust on the skill. He couldn’t help but think if he was back in O’Khasis the dance wouldn’t have lasted three steps before getting corrected and criticized to the point of insult, but he wasn’t in O’Khasis. He was with Zoey. She didn’t seem to mind any of the mistakes, a smile clear on her face as she continued to sing after they had found a beat.

Even when Zoey had stopped singing, the song being done or the rest of the words escaping her, they still slowly swayed. The hand that was rested on her hip was now instead an arm wrapped around her waist that had pulled her a step closer to him, while her hand placed at his shoulder had turned into an arm wrapped around his neck with her head placed against his chest. Their other arms were no longer held in the rigid position for the ballroom style dance, instead held loosely at their sides with their hands more comfortably intertwined together. The moment felt nice, felt solid.

“You have a beautiful voice,” Zoey felt Garroth’s chest move with his words, though he said them soft enough to where only she would hear if they had an audience.

The compliment made her heart feel warm, she had heard the exact same and similar variations of it throughout her whole life but something about it coming from him felt so powerful, “You’re a good dancer, didn’t even step on my toes,”

Garroth let out a soft laugh, the fact he was able to clear the low bar was nice at least, “I’m sure you’ve danced with better,”

“No, I don’t think so,” Zoey shook her head enough for Garroth to feel, her hand squeezing his as they continued to sway to no music, “No dance has ever felt better than this,”

Their soft swaying eventually also stopped, leaving them standing and leaning into each other under the rising moonlight. Zoey was the one who started to move away first, lifting her head from Garroth’s chest and loosening her arm from around his neck. He started loosening his own arm from around her waist, however Zoey’s hand moving to his cheek caused him to pause.

He met her eyes and was able to understand the silent questions that this was. He wondered if she didn’t dare say it out of fear, thinking he would reject her and it would harm the moment they were sharing. That was not the case, he leaned into her hand and a little bit downwards, asking his own silent questions of Meet me? Kiss me?

And she did. She lifted herself enough to brush their noses together and pressed their lips together. The kiss was soft, simple even. There was no desperation or fear laced into it, nothing looming over them other than the night sky. It was nice, it filled Garroth with the feeling of ease Zoey always seemed to fill him with and his arm securing itself around her waist brought Zoey the feeling of safety Garroth was always able to provide.

The moment was truly far from ruined, it was now rooted securely into their hearts as something to remember, to cherish. Though it did have to end, both of them pulling away and taking slow breaths and pink cheeks. Garroth wasn’t quite ready to let go of the moment though, leaning down just a little more to press their foreheads together.

Zoey didn’t want it to end either, it felt too good to end now and she felt comfortable enough with taking a risk to keep it, “If you...if you’d like, you could spend the night with me. Stay the night, stay for breakfast, and then we can do your elvish lesson,”

“That...that would be nice,” Once again the word nice seemed to fall flat compared to what he really meant, but from the smile on her face he thinks she understands anyway.

They finally separated, arms unwrapping from around each other but hands still intertwined as they continued down the hill and towards Zoey’s house. Something new had just started. They would talk about it in the morning, perhaps even share another kiss, but for tonight they would find comfort in how this felt easy despite being scary, unlike so many things in their lives. It wasn’t even that becoming something together was what felt scary, so maybe it wasn’t scary at all. Maybe they just had to learn how to feel excited again.

[14dayswithyou]

Howdy Saint 😊

I have a plan to attack rendacted 😈

🩷🖤Imma wait till he thinks he’s all alone sneak behind him and then when he opens up the camera to see I’m not in my room I’ll ambush him by jumping on his back hugging kissing and messing up his hair 🖤🩷

✦゜ANSWERED: Not proofread... We die like [spoilers] >:3 /silly

The moment you hear the door to the other room open, you take that as your cue to sneak into your lover's bedroom and hide in one of the darkened corners. There's barely any room for you between their giant computer server and the weird... shrine they made for you, but you make do with the limited space.

All you had to do was wait there until Ren came back.

But... He surely was taking his time. Just what exactly was he doing in that spare room? You had half a mind to go and check, but your feet didn't want to move — instead, they stayed planted firmly where they were.

A few seconds pass, which eventually turns into a minute or two, and there are still no signs of your beloved hacker returning. But just as you begin to lose hope and convince yourself to investigate, the door creaks open.

Finally!

You can't conceal the devious smile that pulls at your lips as you subtly peek around the corner of the server. Finally, there Ren stands, blissfully unaware and with his back to you, providing you with the perfect opportunity to pounce — literally. It takes four muffled steps to get within jumping range, and before you have the chance to talk yourself out of it...

You strike.

With a surprised yelp, your pink-haired boyfriend doubles over — but not without making sure to grab your thighs and prevent you from toppling over as well. And just like a koala, you cling to his backside and press playful kisses onto the nape of his neck with mirthful glee.

"Shit, y'surprised me, Angel— Ah! Th-That tickles!" With a laugh of his own, Ren feigns throwing you off as he carefully spins around with you still latched onto his back.

Before you know it, both of you land on his bed with a gentle thud as Ren somehow manages to worm his way around and face you. With a mischievous smile of his own, he starts pampering you with light kisses as you struggle to breathe through all your laughter.

Unbeknownst to you, Ren's phone falls from his grasp and lands on the floor—

...With the screen showing a perfectly clear camera angle of your spot in the corner.

[willowser]

shouto accidentally gets drunk while out with you and some other friends and he's sitting there in the heat of the bar, watching you smile bright and laugh wholeheartedly with your hair a little messy and your eyeliner smudged a bit—and he gets suddenly and completely overwhelmed with the desire to kiss you.

which is exactly what he does when you manage to get him home. it's kind of awkward because he doesn't kiss many people and he's also drunk and gangly and looming over you, but you let him crowd you against his front door until the both of you nearly run out of breath.

and you push him away gently with a quiet laugh, telling him, "okay, slow your roll, loverboy. how about we do this when you're sober, huh?" because you're not sure if he means it and you don't want to get your hopes up for something he won't even remember tomorrow.

but he absolutely does remember it, and now he can't look at you without feeling that unfamiliar white-hot strike of desire lighting up his body.

[veinsfullofstars]

“Any more stupid questions?”

Bonus live reactions to being saved from a Dark Matter ambush:

Started 07/13/24, finished 07/27/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24. | Kintsugi AU Masterpost

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[sinning-23]

Backseat Pillow Princess (Pt.2)

And by popular demand (and because ei couldn't just leave it how I had it and planned on making a part 2 anyway) I BRING YOU PT.2! I really tried to conjure of some kinky freak nasty shit in this y'all so uhhh just be dually noted that I really tried my best with this.

Warnings: tag-team, p in v, multiple rounds, refractory period? we don't know her, creampie, unprotected, biting, choking, eiffel tower in a fucking car dude it gets wicked, nipple play, edging, degrading, praise, light banter, how did we end up outside the gd car????, spit as lube

Hope yall enjoy lol the endingit idk ill probably tweak it later yall pls dotn shame me i was starting to feel bad for makingyall wait so long!

Enjoy~

PT.1 HERE

______________________________________________________________

It all happens so fast that you can hardly register the clash of teeth and tongue. You can feel the growl that rises up his throat and past his lips on your own, the taste metallic but sweet.

You’re breathless, Wade attacking your neck with the same speed and intensity. Your senses are overwhelmed, body riding a 9-hour (give or take) high.

"You are a fucking sicko, you’re soaked through the leather." Logan grunts, tugging your lower lip with his canines,

"Forget that, look at her tits," Wade gasps, looking at the little bumps your hardened nipples made through the fabric.

Part of you should feel embarrassed but you can’t seem to function when there're two separate mouths and two pairs of hands adorning your body. If your uniform wasn't torn to shreds, it definitely was now, a familiar set of claws slicing latex leather away from your flesh easily.

"Great now what am I supposed to wear when this is over?! At least be a little nice to me!" You huff, peeling the shredded fabric away before attacking the older man before you.

A bit surprised, Logan leans back against the door, your chest flush against him as your breaths mix, hot and heavy in the space. You can feel Wade shift, large hands at your hips with your ass against his pelvis. Finding Logan’s zipper was easy, your fingertips tugging at it as you caught his lower lip between your teeth.

"C'mon let's make this fair. I’m the only one showing some skin.” You purr, pulling the little piece of metal down to reveal tanned, toned abs. The thin sheen of sweat and blood makes them glisten.

You practically drool, the sight of them in the moonlight now seared into your brain.

"Jesus you're built like a brick fucking wall-" You gasp, hesitating to touch before running your hands down Logan's chest, then stomach.

"Like a godddamn marble sculpture," Wade adds, taking his chance to admiring the man beneath the both of you.

He chuckles a bit, shrugging his sleeves off before connecting your lips again. It’s shot though, mostly because you can’t help but look at him.

“Nuh uh, lemme see you.” You command, pushing him back against the door.

He groans, your lip tucking beteeen your teeth as you presses kisses to his pulse, trailing downward as his neck flexed perfectly with the rest of his torso and stomach.

“Gorgeous.” You mumble, finally making your way down to his v-line before licking a stripe right back towards, ending it with a faint bite.

“Shame I can’t mark you up how I want, you’ll just heal it.” You sigh, thumbs tracing Logan’s belt now.

You grind down, a heavy, “oh fuck,” leaving your lips as Wade chuckles from behind you. Speaking of which, he had managed to pull your uniform a little past your ass, his hands squeezing the flesh there.

Of course you can’t help but tilt your head back, accepting sloppy open-mouth kisses from the mercenary when he cups your pussy from behind. Purposefully dragging his middle finger between your folds, his mouth swallows up your whimpers, a grin ever present over the lower half of his scarred face.

"Shit you weren't lying, she is soaked." Wade huffs, licking a stipe up your neck, his chest flush against your back

"You know I had to find a way to get your attention, I was starting to feel left out?" Wade taunts, his ring and middle finger two-knuckles deep in you, the squelching echoing.

Logan, eager to please makes a point to suck a mouthful of your tits, his canines grazing over them. He growls, breathing hot against your skin. His free hand cups your other, thumb swiping over your nipple as your palm presses down against his bulge.

"You gonna take it out or just keep pushing on it?" Logan grumbles, hips rolling into you.

It's hard to think, pleasure flooding your senses as you try your hand at helping his length spring free. Fuck, he's rock hard. And soon enough it's in your hand, hard, hot, and dripping with precum.

If you had to give an example of a photogenic dick, his would be at the top of your list. It's got a slight upward bend, the tip slightly tanned as beads of precum rolled down the side. And right beside that slick train that oozes downward, is a thick vein adorned by a smaller one. Your mouth waters, tongue lulling out of your mouth to taste it.

You're stopped, however, when Wade grips your hair, reminding you that HE is the one with his fingers in you, making your pussy drool with each thrust.

You pause, squeezing the base of Logan's dick in response, just to have the male sigh heavily under you.

"Almost lost your manners huh? That's okay I'll help you." Wade announces, seeing the brief irritation flash behind Logan's hazel eyes.

"You ask when you want something," Wade huffs, tone low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, taking a deep breath through your nose before using your thumb to press down on the tip.

"Please?" You whimper, mouth watering now, needing nothing more than to wrap your lips around his length.

"Please what, honey?" Logan encourages, using his thumb to push past your kiss-bitten lips and press down on your tongue, the saliva dripping down his palm and forearm.

"Please let me suck it." You finish, a satisfied grin finally filling Logan's features.

He nods his head in your direction, his fist at the base as you roll your tongue out your mouth, engulfing the tip, tasting the bittersweet precum slide down your throat. He groans, releasing his hand the farther down you go.

You thank the gods above for your almost nonexistent gag reflex, because once you got a feel for just how he settled in your mouth,you wasted to time getting him acclimated to your throat.

"Fuckkkk that's it, honey, swallow." He grunts, flashing those pretty canines as you do exactly what he says, the flex of your throat making his hand shoot to your head.

Between the feeling of you gulping Logan down and Wade's fingers still stretching you out, you're bound to reach your peak at any minute now. And then you feel it.

Empty for a moment, and finally...

"What, you didn't think I was getting this pussy ready for nothing did you?" Wade chuckles, your spine shivering when his tip slid between your aching wetness.

Arching more, Wade grabs a nice handful of the flesh between your hips and your ass, easily filling your needy cunt as you lift your head, gasping in response to the stretch. A sign of saliva connects your lower lip to the slightly reddened tip of Logan's cock. All you can do is whimper, bracing yourself as Wade thrusts into you, pace quick and calculated.

"F-uck!' You hum, each thrust breakign up the syllabus

Your hands scrath at Logan's chest, using him as an anchor to keep yourself from cumming too quickly. He only chuckles, tugging your hair to place a bruising kiss on your lips, his free hand using your saliva to pick up where you'd left off.

"Squeezing, fuck you're tight." Wade huffs, teeth sinking into your shoulder as Logan's lips swallow up your painfully pleasured whine.

"Close, so close, need it" Is all you can muster up, your hips now meeting his in an attempt to speed the process up.

And sure enough, the knot that had worked its way into your core finally snaps, your strangled moans filling up and pouring out the Honda, your head throwing itself back, as you ride out the high. All you can hear are praises and encouragement from behind and in front of you, all of which are fading in and out as your ears ring.

'Thats it'

'C'mon honey give it to me'

'Good fucking girl'

'So wet holy shit'

'Look how fuckin pretty you are'

'That arch, jesus christ'

"Sooo good, oh fuck yes." You whine, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

Once your eyes manage to flicker back open, you're met with the prettiest view, and you gasp at the sight, already feeling yourself ready for another round.

Thee he was, eyes screwed shut, brows creasing as his chest rises and falls in time with his fist, which was now dripping with thick, silky looking ropes of cum. His jaw is clenched, a growl bubbling past his lips as you reach your hand down to help guide him, the substance coating your fingertips.

"You look so pretty when you cum." You hum, then grabbing his jaw to give another forecefull yet intimate kiss, your tongues slipping past one another.

“My turn,” Logan growls, pulling the door open in one swift movement before tugging your body outside the car.

You gasp, legs feeling more like jelly after Wade had already turned your insides to mush.

You wobble a bit, using the edge of the door to steady yourself before you’re stuffed full again. An overstimulated moan forces its its way out of you. He feels even better inside than in your palm. And yet, he doesn’t move, the sound of Logan’s hollow, shaky breaths mere centimetres from your ear.

“Oh honey.” He groans, his hips moving just to slam back into you, a pleasured yelp leaving your lips in response.

“Can hardly take it, look at you fucking shaking.” He chuckles, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, your head falling foreward as you’re overwhelmed with so many different feelings. The pain from the fight mixed with the pleasure from his strokes and the previous orgasm.

“Don’t- oh Fuckk. Don’t patronize me-.” You whimper, gripping the edge of the door for dear life, the smack of his pelvis to your ass loud and rhythmic.

As if you weren’t already fucked out, Wade managed to scoot riiiiight in front of you, just enough so that his cock is resting against your cheek, and god does your mouth water.

“Let’s keep you busy, huh sweetie?” Wade hums, his tip pressing against your glossy lower lip.

You’re eager to accept, letting your tongue roll around the head before taking as much of him as you can. Every slight thrust of his hips pushed him further and further down your throat, alive dripping down your chin and onto the torn, blood-stained seats below.

It doesn’t take long before you’re right back to square one, legs trembling as your labored breaths quicken in pace.

“Ohhh fuck, squeezing. You’re about to cum arent you honey?” Logan chuckles, squeezing the flesh of your hip before landing a brutal smack to your ass.

He smirks at the sight of the recoil, and doesn’t it again, each smack leaving a nice shade of red. You don’t even have a chance to warn him before you cum, the blissful feeling making you shudder, throat coated with sticky release as Wade tangles his fingers in your scalp.

What you weren’t expecting, was for your release to trickle down your thighs, each thrust only making your squelch more and more. The familiar twinge of overstimulation ravages your senses as you swallow down Wade’s release.

And unfortunately, you’re empty again, peeking over your shoulder just to see Logan finishing on the perfect curve of your back. The pearly beads of cum rolling down your ass and up your spine.

There’s a few beats of silence, paired with the laibored breathes or three violent and fucked out regenerarive assholes.

But of course, Wades specially is breaking silence.

“Hey how come you didn’t squirt for me?” He huffs in faux disappointment.

You can practically hear Logan roll his eyes, whom of which had made a point to massage where he had hit earlier.

“Please shut the fuck up.” Logan huffs, shuffling around the car to either A: find something to clean you up with or B: something for you to wear.

Either way, you're beyond fucked out, the previous tension finally dying down as you're bathed in moonlight. It takes a little effort from the two males but they successfully lean you against the middle console.

Lucky for you, there just so happened to be an extra set of clothes hidden in the trunk most likely belonging to the variant you got this stupid car from anyway.

Meh, I think missing clothes will be the least of his worries considering this piece of shit car is absolutely thrashed...

And now tainted with spit and cum-

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