#that last part would fuck anybody up mentally

[rerarlo]

Alright strap in everybody this nerd is about to over theorize why demons in demon slayer can’t reproduce!

CW: Pregnancy, birth, miscarriage, eating babies, baby tumors, body horror, reproductive explanation, nothing sexual, nothing explicit (i think?) oh god what did I write. Read this at your own risk guys.

Now lets starts with the males, we have to assume that the equipment still works.

Why can’t a male demon have a kid with a human? Their genetic codes have become too different.

Becoming a demon physically changes a person drastically, which would mean their DNA changed as well. This is also supported by the regeneration factor as well, because it seems its just perfect mitosis of cells happening at a fast pace. This ‘perfect mitosis’ is also why demons don’t age. Ageing in simple terms, is cells/dna not being able to perfectly replicate itself each time, which over time leads to degradation in the code which we call ageing. (this is very simplified of an explanation)

And if the DNA between species is too different viable young can’t be produced. This DNA difference is also why we don’t have cat/dog hybrids.

Now if a male demon can’t reproduce with a human because of this, why can’t they have children with a female demon?

Well one hurdle would be behaviour of demons, they don’t really team up because of their territorial nature (and possible fear of Muzan punishing them for it). But lets assume that isn’t an issue. And lets also assume the reproductive organs haven’t shut down function.

The biggest problem would be the she-demons immune system. Now why am i bringing this up? Its because of the way our own immune system works. Its not smooth sailing for sperm once they are inside the female body.

They not only have to get to the egg cell, but along the way our immune system flags them as foreign and intruders. Which leads to most of them being eliminated by said immune system.

Now we have never seen a demon get sick with a virus, or a parasite. Which could mean nothing is compatible with their bodies. But given how quickly viruses can mutate there should be something that can affect them.

My theory is that a demons immune system is extremely effective, to the point no virus, parasite or illness can take root (unless it was contracted as a human like Gyutaro)

But that also means that no sperm would even get close to the hypothetical egg cell!

Now how about we consider one more option. Could turning a pregnant human into a demon, result in the eventual birth of a demon baby?

Probably not. Because not all humans can turn into demons, some are too weak to do so. So there is no guarantee that the baby would even survive the process, and they probably wouldn’t. Babies are pretty fragile especially when younger. Not only that but it relies on the assumption that if the mother does turn into a demon, her body wouldn’t eject or absorb the baby.

Turning into a demon is an extremely painful process. And too much stress or pain could result in a miscarriage (or so i’ve heard don’t quote me on this).

Also the moment a demon turns they are hungry, and going to try eating anything in sight. Either by literally eating or absorbing the biomass (baby) within them. And if the transformation results in say a premature birth, i doubt the mother would have a second thought before eating her child.

Although the worst outcome would probably be a permanent state of pregnancy. The baby isn’t growing, it isn’t even a baby anymore just an ‘extension’ of the demon mothers flesh. Her own body mimicking a baby like tumor. Except it can’t be cut out, it just re-grows every time.

[aresrambles]

Mission Complete

logan howlett x fem!reader - in which you and the wolverine shack up in a shitty hotel after a mission. nsfw, afab terms, there's only one bed, 18+reader (always), “kid”, pining!logan, pining!reader (3911 words)

a/n: just one night with this man... just one fucking night. also yes, first wolvie post but defo not the last.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Logan pauses in the doorway, his gaze lingering on the double bed crammed into the corner of your shared hotel room. He steps inside, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes dart around, searching for an alternative—a sofa, a chair, hell, even a futon. Nothing. He sighs heavily, dropping his bag with a thud, his mind racing through the options. Sharing a bed with you? That’s out of the damn question. He could sleep on the floor, or better yet, maybe there’s another room available. Spending the night with you would be some sick kind of torture; he can’t restrain himself that long.

If you notice his hesitation, you don’t show it. You slip past him with a casual brush of the shoulder, making a beeline for the bathroom. “Dibs on the shower!” you call out, rummaging through your backpack for what he figures must be a change of clothes. Logan grunts in response.

“This mission wasn’t even that bad,” you continue, your voice muffled as you dig deeper into your bag. “We’re leaving early tomorrow, so you should probably shower tonight too. Don’t need you slowing us down in the morning, old man.”

Logan doesn’t dignify your jab with a response. Instead, he turns on his heel and heads back out, letting the door click shut behind him. He’s got a better chance of dealing with the front desk than with sharing that bed. He fishes out a cigar, biting down on it as he stalks down the stairs, striking a match as he goes. The no-smoking signs? They might as well be invisible to him. If they didn’t notice him before, they’d sure as hell notice the smoke.

When he reaches the lobby, it’s empty. Logan rings the bell—once, twice.

“Hello?”

Silence. He rings the bell again, harder this time.

“Hello? Anybody here? I was just—oh, for fuck’s sake.”

His eyes land on a neat little sign perched on the desk: ‘Front desk will be available again from 7:30 a.m. tomorrow.’

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he thinks, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke in frustration. What if there’s an emergency? What are people supposed to do, wait until morning?

Logan growls under his breath, stubbing out the cigar on the polished wood of the counter, leaving a smoldering mark as a parting gift. He storms back up the stairs, mentally preparing himself for a night on the hard floor. It could be worse, he muses, but only just.

Logan swings open the door to a piercing shriek, slamming it shut almost as quickly as he’d opened it, his hand still gripping the doorknob with a trembling force. Okay, it could definitely be worse, he thinks, his mind spinning.

Inside, you scramble to cover yourself, your heart racing as you realize what just happened. “Seriously? Do you not knock?” you shout, your voice laced with a mix of panic and humiliation. Your face burns as you try to process the situation, the mortification almost too much to bear. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, hurriedly yanking on the oversized t-shirt you had planned to sleep in, your hands fumbling in haste.

“Why didn’t you change in the bathroom?” Logan shoots back, voice gruff, trying to mask his own flustered state. He grinds out his cigar underfoot, his mind replaying the moment he just witnessed, over and over. His ears burn hot, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t shake the image of you—shirt halfway over your head, bare and vulnerable, your skin still glistening from the shower. Fuck. He looks down, his jeans now uncomfortably tight, the ache in his groin a harsh reminder of why sharing a bed with you is a terrible idea. He can barely keep himself together when you’re fully dressed, let alone in a state like that.

You take a moment to steady your breathing, trying to push the embarrassment down. “You can… you can come in now,” you stammer, your back turned to the door as you pretend to be engrossed in your phone, anything to avoid facing him.

Logan doesn’t reply. He pushes the door open and slips inside, his movements quick and stiff as he heads straight for the bathroom, needing to put some distance between you both. The door closes behind him, and you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. This moment was going to haunt you for a very long time.

So, you had a little crush on Logan. No big deal—just a harmless, schoolgirl crush. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But you couldn’t deny that you and Logan made a damn good team. So good, in fact, that the Professor had been pairing you two up for missions more often than not lately. And that silly, schoolgirl crush? It had started to grow into something much harder to ignore.

Your stomach churns as you roll over onto the bed, face buried in the pillows. It’s hard to admit, but part of you got a little turned on by what just happened. The searing embarrassment of having your body on display like that for the man who’d starred in so many of your late-night fantasies… It was almost too much to handle. You sigh deeply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

But then reality sets in. Logan didn’t feel the same way—how could he? The way he bolted for the bathroom was proof enough. Why would someone like him ever be interested in you? You’ve heard the stories about Logan’s past flames, women who were nothing short of extraordinary. And here you are, just another teammate, a brief moment of awkwardness quickly forgotten.

You try to push the thoughts away, deciding it’s best to just turn in for the night. There’ll be plenty of time to torture yourself with these thoughts later. For now, sleep is the only escape from the swirling mess in your head.

It was true—Logan couldn’t get away fast enough, but not for the reasons you thought. As he stood under the scorching spray of the shower, letting the steaming water cascade over his body, his eyes remained fixed on the tiles beneath his feet. His regenerative abilities could heal wounds and stitch him back together, but they never quite banished the constant ache that clung to his bones, a dull throb that even the hot water could only barely soothe. But the ache in his abdomen? That was something else entirely.

Logan couldn’t shake the image burned into his mind, the sight of you, bare and beautiful, just moments ago. He gritted his teeth, his thoughts straying where they shouldn’t. How would those perfect tits look under the water with him, droplets sliding down your skin while he took you against the shower wall? Would you mewl softly, or would you gasp, nails digging into his back? Would you cling to him, or would your legs give out, collapsing into his arms?

He let out a rough grunt, twisting the shower knob to ice-cold in an attempt to snap himself out of it. The icy blast hit him hard, but he welcomed it, hoping it might douse the fire in his veins. He could touch himself—hell, the thought crossed his mind more than once—but not with you just outside, not when you were so close. It felt wrong, too damn wrong.

The cold water eventually worked its magic, easing the unbearable tension that had built up inside him, but it took nearly an hour to do so. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Logan stepped out of the shower, drying off and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. As he looked at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, he knew one thing for certain: this was going to be a long, restless night.

Logan steps out of the bathroom to find you huddled on the floor, passed out in a tangled mess of blankets. He rolls his eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he carefully scoops you up and lays you down on the bed.

“I don’t need th’ bed,” you mumble, your voice so soft he almost misses it. He huffs through his nose, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “Where else you gonna sleep?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. You blink sleepily, trying to focus as the darkness settles around you, the only sound the gentle rustling of sheets as he adjusts you on the bed.

“Sorry about earlier,” he adds, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You don’t reply, too embarrassed to form words. Instead, you turn your face away, hoping he won’t notice the flush of heat creeping up your cheeks. But in the stillness of the night, it feels like every little movement, every breath, is amplified.

“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s space for both of us.” The words hang in the air, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of how close Logan is to you. You can almost feel the warmth of his breath against your face, the proximity making your heart race. But then, just as suddenly, he shifts away, the moment passing like a whisper in the dark.

It’s silent for some time, like he’s thinking. You almost speak up again but he beats you to it, just as you part your lips.

“Scoot up, kid,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You do as he says, moving over to make room, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Logan settles in beside you, and the bed dips slightly under his weight. The space between you feels impossibly small, yet you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Despite his shower, the faint smell of cigars still lingers in the air. It’s oddly comforting, grounding you in the surreal reality of the moment. You take a deep breath, trying to steady the wild thoughts racing through your mind. “Good night Logan,” you murmur, hoping that sleep will come quickly and spare you from the ache of wanting what you can’t have—craving the feel of his strong arms around you, the way his hands might tighten against your throat, and the sound of his voice purring dark promises in your ear.

“G’night,” he replies, his voice a low rumble as he turns away, leaving you back to back.

Logan is in Hell.

He can feel your warmth through the thin gap between you, every soft breath you take a reminder of just how close you are. His mouth had agreed before his mind could stop him, and now he’s paying the price. Lying next to you, with your soft body and those innocent eyes that see right through him, is torture. He wonders if there’s still time to slink back into that pile of blankets on the floor.

His muscles tense as he tries to push down the desire clawing at him, the instinct to reach out and pull you close nearly overwhelming. The scent of your skin, the way you whispered his name—everything about you is a test of his control. Logan knows he’s walking a fine line, and the longer he stays here, the harder it gets to keep himself in check.

His fists clench under the covers, every muscle in his body taut with tension. Logan can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing, the quiet rustle of sheets as you shift slightly beside him. The scent of your skin lingering in the air is really what’s holding him hostage. He tries to focus on anything else, but all he can think about is how close you are—how easy it would be to reach out and just touch you.

You lie there, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. The silence of the room is thick, almost suffocating, but you know you’re not the only one awake. You can feel it- an awareness that runs deeper than simple intuition. All those missions together, all those nights spent side by side—you’ve learned to read him in ways that go beyond words.

Without needing to glance back, you know Logan Howlett is still awake. It’s as if his presence hums in the air between you, a silent energy that’s becoming increasingly impossible to ignore. There’s a tension there, a subtle shift in the way he breathes, the way he holds himself so still, as if he’s trying not to disturb the fragile peace of the night. But you can sense it: something’s bothering him.

You wonder if it’s the same turmoil that’s been gnawing at you, the same restless desire that has kept you on edge ever since you laid down beside him. The thought of Logan feeling the same way sends a shiver through you. It’s a strange kind of comfort, knowing that you might not be alone in this.

But then again, the Wolverine is a man of secrets, you know him well, better than most, but not as well as you’d like. Not in the ways that matter most right now. And yet, lying there in the dark, with only your thoughts and the steady rhythm of his breathing to keep you company, you can’t help but wonder if the walls he’s built around himself are cracking, just as yours are.

You can’t take it anymore. Tentatively, you let your hand drift to the space between you, your fingers brushing against his side. Logan stiffens at the contact, a sharp intake of breath the only sound in the darkness. Emboldened by his reaction, you let your hand slide further, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. You’re on fire, body moving on its own accord. This wasn’t you, it couldn’t be.

“Darlin’, you don’t know what you’re startin’,” Logan growls, his voice thick with warning and something else that you couldn’t quite identify yet.

But you do know. You know exactly what you want, and you’re tired of pretending otherwise. You turn onto your side, pressing your body against his back, your breath hot against his neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly with anticipation.

Logan turns to you with a gentleness that catches you off guard, his hand sliding to your waist with a tenderness that feels almost reverent. He pulls you close, but it’s not with the raw urgency you expected. Instead, it’s slow, deliberate, as though he’s holding himself back by a thread. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, searching for something, perhaps a final permission.

It’s you that closes the gap. The pressure of his lips against yours is gentle, but the undercurrent of need is undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface. You can feel the restraint in every brush of his lips, every measured caress, and it only makes you clench tighter.

Logan’s hands begin to roam, exploring your body with a hunger that has clearly been held back for far too long. He takes his time, fingers tracing every curve, every dip, as if memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch. His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “This is all I could think about out there, in the woods… how you’d feel, how you’d taste.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, a deep flush spreading across your skin. His hands slide up your thighs, teasing the edge of your shirt before slipping underneath, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve. His fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, his lips moving down your collarbone, and you realize with a start that you’re trembling beneath him.

You find yourself arching into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Logan’s mouth curls into a smile against your skin, sensing your desperation. “‘s that what you want, darlin’?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that vibrates against your skin, making you shiver. “You want me to take you apart, piece by piece?”

You nod, breathless, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you silently plead for him to stop teasing. “Please, Logan,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

He chuckles softly against your skin, a dark, throaty sound that sends another wave of heat through you. Logan pulls back, his gaze heavy with desire as he sits up. You watch, breathless, as he reaches for the hem of his vest, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The sight of his bare chest visible only by the flecks of moonlight, muscles rippling beneath his skin, takes your breath away (though this wouldn’t be the first time). You reach out, your fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch.

Logan watches you with dark, hungry eyes as he reaches for the waistband of his pants, removing them with deliberate slowness. He seems to take pleasure in the way your breath catches, in the way your gaze follows every movement as he slides them down, revealing the full, impressive length of his dick. Logan is big. It’s not just long, but it’s fucking big. Veiny, girthy and leaking precum at the tip, you can’t help but instinctively bite your lip.

The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your pussy ache for him in a way that’s almost painful. “Logan… please,” you whisper again, your voice barely more than a breath as you look up at him through your lashes.

His gaze darkens, a satisfied smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he finally gives in, his hands moving with purpose as he strips you of your t-shirt. The moment your body is fully exposed to him, Logan pauses, his eyes raking over you with a possessive hunger that makes your heart skip a beat. He takes you in, every inch of you, committing the contours of your body to memory.

When he finally positions himself between your legs, you’re trembling with anticipation, your body aching for him. But Logan doesn’t rush. He takes his time, guiding himself to your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your wetness before he pulls your panties to the side. He watches your face, his gaze dark and intense, as he teases you, pushing just the tip inside before pulling back. Bastard.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rough but laced with tenderness, his lips brushing against your ear. “Because once I start, I can assure you; there’s no going back.”

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him inside you. “I need you inside me.” you whisper, your voice heavy with desire.

Logan growls low in his throat, and finally, mercifully, he pushes inside you, filling you with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you gasp. The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch and fullness making your head spin as he sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. He pauses, letting you adjust, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost reverent kiss.

Then he begins to move, each thrust deep and powerful, driving you both closer to the edge with every stroke. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he moves inside you, his gaze locked on yours as if he’s taking in every expression, every moan, every gasp.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. You do, your eyes meeting his in a drunken haze. You moan, your body trembling beneath him, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming. Every thrust, every movement, is perfectly timed, his body attuned to yours in a way that almost didn’t feel real.

“Logan,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need. “It’s so… much.”

He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice full of rough affection. “But you can take it,” He spits.

The praise, the way he’s looking at you, it all builds the tension inside you to a fever pitch. His gaze never wavers, holding yours as he moves deeper, harder. You can’t help the soft whimpers that escape your lips, your body tightening around him with each powerful stroke. Logan’s grip on your hips tightens, and he groans, his eyes darkening further as he watches you come undone beneath him.

“Don’t hold back,” he growls, his voice full of animalistic need. “Let me see you, I want it all.”

“Logan… I—” The words catch in your throat as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, your body arching beneath him.

He growls your name, a primal sound full of need, as he moves faster, harder, both you and Logan knew you were close.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his voice ragged, his gaze locked on yours.

And you do. With a cry, you shatter around him, the pleasure crashing over you like a wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Logan follows you over the edge, his own release tearing through him as he groans your name.

When it’s over, Logan collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is quiet now, the air thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. You nestle against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The tension that had built up between you over the past few days finally snapped, and here you both are, tangled in the aftermath.

You shift beside him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat. He turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a hint of unease, maybe even regret. “You sure this was okay?” His voice is rough, laced with concern, and that old nickname hangs in the air like a habit he can’t break. “Kid.”

You meet his gaze, holding it, making sure he sees you clearly. “Logan,” you say, your voice steady, “I’m not a kid anymore. You need to stop treating me like one.”

He exhales, a long, controlled breath, as if he’s trying to push down everything he’s feeling. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, the words heavy.

A small, wry smile tugs at your lips as you prop yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “You’re not taking advantage of me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your tone is straightforward, cutting through his doubts. “I wanted this as much as you did. I think, maybe even more…” You trail off.

He looks away, eyes flicking back to the ceiling, his hand finding its way to your back, fingers brushing your skin in a gesture that feels almost hesitant. “I’ve done things... seen things. Sometimes I’m not sure what’s right anymore.”

You lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to make sure he feels it, really feels it. When you pull back, you hold his gaze, your voice low but firm. “I know what I’m getting into.”

He’s quiet, his hand tightening on your back just a little, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on. He doesn’t say anything else, just pulls you closer, holding you like you’re the one solid thing in a world that’s always shifting beneath his feet.

[monimccoythings]

Mending each other's hearts II

Jesus, this took forever. I'm having so much fun writing this, for real. However I think I'll have to do a third part because GOSH do I love angstiness and suffering. One thing I also love is Jean being a wingman and such a cool friend I want to work more with that.

tw: logan is a caveman and a brute, and possibly emotionally constipated, really; a bit angsty.

I have no idea about clubs, I just googled New York clubs and picked the coolest looking.

tags: @kathieycarrerarosshley (I'm not sure if there's anybody else, sorry, I don't usually check the notes :()

Part I │ Part II (You're here!!)

He basically jumped down the stairs, nearly crashing into several innocent students. Like Hell he was going to allow you to do that to yourself. You were not some cheap whore who did one-night-stands. You were so sweet, so innocent, that the thought of having anyone touch you inappropriately, rubbing themselves against your body, tainting you with their dirty hands made his stomach churn and his claws start to come out.

Despite running as if the literal Devil was chasing him, all his efforts were for nothing, because when he barged through the front doors of the mansion he could already hear the gears of your car speeding up, miles away. Fuck, he was too late; but maybe, if he traced your scent, if he went now to his motorbike he may be able to catch you and stop this madness. As he turned around, he narrowly avoided his keys being psychically thrown towards him. Jean looked at him with a determined look on her face.

“Lavo, go. NOW.” Her voice commanded no objection, and for once, he would happily obey orders.

He usually was very careful with his motorbike, an old lady deserved to be treated with respect, but not tonight, there was not a second to lose. Muttering a quiet apology to his dear ride, he sped off towards the city, silently praying to a god he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t done anything you would regret later.

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You felt a sense of excitement settle in your lower belly. Look at you, a grown adult, dressing up all cute and going on your own adventures in the Big Apple, you felt like you were going to squeal like a little girl, either that or you needed to stop the car and puke.

You knew exactly where to go, where the good stuff would be; under normal conditions you wouldn’t be allowed in, so that’s why you were planning to use your powers to sneak in. Maybe you were just some plain teacher at a private school for mutants but that didn’t mean you didn’t have tricks up your sleeve.

A sudden memory of the real reason this was all about, made your heart twist with ache and longing. The memory of Logan and Jean in that empty classroom would be forever engraved inside your mind, a confirmation that no matter what you did, you would never be enough. No. You mentally slapped yourself. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself like that. The only thing invisible about you were your powers. Tonight, you were going to feel beautiful, appreciated, and most importantly, desired. A pang of anxiety hitted you, what if nobody notices? The real possibility of being made into a fool once again was scary and nearly made you turn away and return home with your tail between your legs. They will. Maybe it was that part of you that had been kicked long enough talking, you would never know, but it gave you enough confidence to keep going.

You made sure to park your car as far as you could, you didn’t want anything to associate you with that little stunt you were about to pull. You casually walked into a nearby alleyway to turn yourself invisible, the last thing this night needed was a public scandal. 

There was truly something magical about walking down the street while you were invisible, it made you feel confident and powerful. Nobody could harm you if they didn’t know you were there. You watched couples pass by pampering each other, a group of drunk college freshmans trying their best to walk in a straight line, you could observe every single detail on them without feeling like a creep. Sometimes you wondered why you didn't have your mutation on at all times. It certainly would make your life easier.

Before you knew it, you had already arrived at your destination. Taking advantage of some rich boy skipping line, you glued yourself to his back and entered, making a little squeal that startled the poor security guard.

The place took your breath away.

Lavo was one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Manhattan. One night there (paying the entrance and restaurant, of course) would probably cost you half your salary. You knew Charles could afford it, but you weren’t going to ask him to bill the start of your party girl era.

A sudden realization left you filled with embarrassment; you had entered, now what. In a desperate way to fit in, you decided that the most suitable course of action would be to look for a place to turn visible again and go for a drink.

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Logan lost count of how many traffic laws he broke that night, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to reach you. Each time he imagined a worse scenario that somehow always ended with you in the arms of another man, enjoying his caresses and kisses. He panicked, making his grip on the handlebar painfully tighten. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, and he also didn’t know what he would do if he found you with a suitor.

He wasn’t impressed at all by the imposing building, and he was less impressed by the regulars. Bunch of spoiled rich brats, if someone asks him.

The security guard wasn’t in the mood to let him in and less while looking like that, but since he didn’t have time nor the patience to deal with any form of bullshit, he opted to launch him across the street with a single punch instead of pulling out his claws, leaving the crowd completely silent.

The inside was as bad as the outside, or even worse. He didn’t like that place at all, too many people, too much noise and too many smells. It overwhelmed him. How the fuck was he supposed to find you there. He showed his way among the crowd, ignoring the grunts and complaints from the people surrounding him, fuck them all. His heightened senses were practically screaming at him to go wild and ravage the place until he got you.

His hunting instincts told him to look for some dark corner where he could keep a close watch on the entire club, it’d be easier, and quieter for him. He could do without all that modern music drilling his ears. Some goddamned peace and tranquility would help him focus.

He didn’t need to wait for long until his eyes settled on you. On the dancefloor, with a glass in your hand, and a man glued to your back with his lips dangerously close to your neck.

Logan saw red.

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As you took a sip of your grasshopper, you wondered why you had been worried in the first place. Just one look at how that dress hugged your ass and you had several men eating from your palm. You had to confess that even if it flattered you, it was a bit suffocating having that much attention all of a sudden.

The man you had picked for the night, Kelsey? Kevin?, you hadn't heard it well with the lous music, was actually kinda nice. Out of all of the men that surrounded you he had been the only one to actually try to start some friendly conversation before hitting on you. That sweet attempt just earned him some brownie points. That and that body which seemed to have been sculpted by the gods. Damn, what did they feed him?. His hands moved closely to your hips, and you couldn’t help but wish those arms that held you were bigger, and hairier. You shook your head. Focus on the Adonis right behind you. The one who was going to make you feel so good tonight. You could already imagine it.

But fantasies were just that. Fantasies.

An altercation snapped you out of your daydream. Someone was pushing his way quite violently towards the dancefloor, and by the sound of those screams of protest he wasn’t being very gentle.

The blood froze in your veins when you saw who was approaching. No. How. Why. Millions of questions ran through your mind, your body screaming at you to run, but you were paralyzed with fear.

You had never seen that look on Logan.

Feral.

Wild.

Monster.

You had heard people describe him with those words since the very first day you had met him. Coming from both humans and mutants. You had never paid them any attention, being so confident in knowing that despite his gruff exterior, inside there was hidden a golden heart just as big as his muscles. But now you were considering that despite knowing that, maybe the others had some point in their arguments.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

He was getting closer. Unconsciously, you put yourself in front of your dancing partner, despite knowing that whatever little mutant trick you had was useless against The Wolverine’s blind fury. Yet, you weren’t going to let some innocent civilian get hurt because your friend was pissed at you for whatever stupid reason.

His eyes were unfocused, darting from one person to the other like a wild animal. You weren’t sure if he was able to see you at all.

“Logan. What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady, knowing that when he got like this, anything could really set him off and then all Hell would break loose. He grunted and finally looked at you. Pupils dilating when he got a better look of you in that dress.

“Home. Now.” Among all the noise it was hard to understand him, but whatever he’d said you were sure it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. It didn't help that those words resembled more growls than actual speech.

Your new friend, supposedly Kevin, tried to step forward, foolishly thinking he had a chance against one of the most vicious mutants to ever exist. Logan looked at him with barely restrained rage, breathing heavily. His stance, along with the strength the air came out of his nostrils reminded you of a bull ready to attack. You started fearing the worst.

Within a blink, Logan had grabbed your arm and was forcefully dragging you towards the emergency exit. You slammed your heels against the floor, trying to keep you grounded in your spot, but that only seemed to make him angrier. Quickly reaching down, he scooped you up and carried you over his broad shoulder, making you drop your drink and leaving you mortified to the point of nearly accidentally outing yourself as a mutant in a room full of people.

After what felt like the longest time of your lfe, you two made it outside that place and after several kicks and threats, he finally put you down in an alleyway where all the shame that filled you, all the embarrassment, turned into rage.

Why.

Why couldn't he let you have this?

Why wouldn’t he allow you to move on?

Why did he have to keep breaking your heart over and over again? Hadn’t you suffered enough?

You screamed at him, you pushed him and insulted him until your voice became hoarse. The force of your screams were drowned by the sound of an incoming storm. And he just stood there, taking it all in stride, just looking at you, like a marble statue. A less wise person would have thought he was bored, just waiting for you to scream your heart out and finish your tantrum. But his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that always made you melt, were filled with emotion. Could be guilt, could be pain, could be grief, they were passing far too quickly for you to notice.

Yet he still didn’t say anything which only fueled your anger. The nerve of him, the fucking audacity. You felt mocked, humiliated, the laughingstock of Xavier’s School; a silly woman in her early thirties with a pathetic little girl crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of the day.

You slapped him as hard as you could.

Probably not the smartest thing given his bones were made of the toughest metal to ever exist which you instantly felt when your hand made contact with his cheek. You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the agonizing scream of pain that was crawling up your throat to get out.

That made him react, his expression changing into one of concern. He tried to say something, move closer to you and check your hand, but you stepped back, your back pressed against the brick wall.

Holding your injured hand with your other, you lowered your head. Rain started pouring on you both, drenching your carefully groomed hair and wiping all that expensive makeup away. But at least it would hide the tears that fell freely though your cheeks. 

What a mess you were, drenched like a wet cat, with your makeup ruined and sobbing while the man of your dreams just watched you with pity. You should leave and lock yourself in your room. Turning invisible again, you tried to make your exit towards your car, knowing it would be a long walk full of cries and sobs, but his arm blocked you, damn that sharp sense of smell. you turned around and his other arm blocked you again, effectively trapping you between himself and the wall.

Suddenly you found yourself very tired, of his games, of being screwed over and over again, of your emotional burst. You just wanted to go home, take a bath, and sleep. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Please. I want to go home.” There must have been something in your voice so broken that caused him to immediately take action. Logan suddenly had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself, after that stunt he pulled off at the club, however you couldn’t care less right now. Muttering a quick ‘yeah’ he slowly pulled away from you, and awkwardly stepped back.

Not being used to walking on heels, you would have fell face first against the ground, putting the icing on the cake of that terrible night, had not a pair of strong arms caught you and lifted you into a bridal carry.

Not so long ago, you would have been all over the moon at this gesture. Logan Howlett, the hunk of the X-Mansion, carrying you like a princess. Yeah, the old you would have loved that.

Right now you were feeling too emotionally numb to care. Even when his arms pulled you closer to his chest, even when he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head.

You just couldn’t feel anything.

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper Part Nine

Pairing: Poly 141 x female reader / Female reader/ You x Her mental health x König

Content Warnings: Violence, bloodshed, injuries, Premeditated murder on the brain (Female Reader), swearing.

Words: 756

Note: Sorry for a short one. Wanted to get this one out. Next one will be longer I promise.

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

Supernatural AU — Poem

Credit for Dividers:@cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I the problem? Did I do something to make you hate me so much? 

Why didn’t you just leave me instead of lying so many times to my face?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? 

I hope you rot in this hell you have made yourself. It’s my last gift I will give to you.

You knew how my life was before I met you. Yet you still did this to me. 

Cold. Calculated. That is all you will ever be.

If I had the power to curse you. I would have done it long ago. 

Once I leave this house, this country all over again. Do yourself a favour. Stay away from me.

Stay far, far away from me.

Otherwise, I can and most absolutely will kill you myself.

If you wish to keep your life.

Stay in your country and I will stay in mine.

I don’t want to be pushed into a corner. But you keep being adamant on doing so.

Don’t blame me when I bite you. Blame yourself for ignoring the warning signs.

You are the reason we are no longer married. Take accountability for your actions and shut the fuck up. 

König. You still don’t know if that’s his actual name or just simply a call sign. He never told you either way. 

But what does it matter? 

The man who had once been the epitome of comfort and support in your life had become a shadow of his former self. The trust that had once been as solid as steel between you had been shattered into a million pieces.

Leaving a gaping chasm of doubt and anger in its place. 

The coldness in his eyes, the way he looked at you now, it was like you were nothing but a stranger to him. 

Someone who had merely crossed his path at the wrong time.

"I will leave, and you won't see me again." you snarl, getting up to get your things.

König remains seated, his expression unreadable. "Reaper, I know you're upset, but we need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You chose to cheat. You made that choice. Suffer the consequences. I'm not the one who needs to explain anything. You're the one who broke our vows.” 

“My life is in my hands. I will not become who you are.” You told him. Your knuckles turning white from the way you turned your hands into fists. You were so tired of the kind of excuses coming from the mouths of men who neither cared nor wanted you around. 

You weren’t going to let König know you again. To choose death than suffer through his presence a second time. It made so much sense to you. You do enough talk. What did you learn from your mistakes? Did you even learn from them at all? 

If he can’t see it. May he drown inside his endless well of pitiful tears. 

You are not his wife, his friend, his punching bag. The call sign ‘Grim Reaper’? You earned it for a reason. Too bad he’s too blind to see it. 

What has eyes but cannot see? 

Escape.

Escape and run faster than he can hope to catch up. 

If he can’t take the hint, then…..you would have to kill him yourself.

Can’t be too hard to kill a six-foot ten adult man, right?

You can hear the shouting between him and his girlfriend. A sickening, twisted grin spreads across your face. Sweet revenge for the child you lost years ago.  Weight began to lift from your shoulders. It wasn’t over by a long shot. But now you know how to twist the knife to get what you wanted in order to leave. 

To head back home where you felt like you belonged completely. 

Home. Your home. 

The one where you don’t have to hide from broken bottles, yelling, shouting, endless need to feel like you have to explain yourself. 

Could it still be there when you go back? Will it still be there now?

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame chapter fifteen

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 3.4k

Chapter warnings: physical abuse, like hardcore abuse pls heed the warning, manipulation, mental abuse, toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, description of injury, choking and not in the sexy way, noncon piv sex, noncon fingering, panic attacks, emotional distress, anxiety attacks, this is fucked, please just go in with caution, like fr i don't think i can sum all the fucked up shit in this chapter up

Chapter Summary: Is this the end?

A/N: Hey to everyone who's stuck by this story! This chapter is very intense and I just want to put it here that everything that happens here (and in this story in general) is obviously not okay. I am here if anybody needs to talk about anything at all. Take care of yourselves ❤

*****

You barely see kindness from Javi for the next couple of weeks. It was pretty much the same as the usual, but now you have to spend most nights with a terrifying man you don’t know. Whereas your husband used to come home, tired from work but still kind, there’s now a stranger who seems to not care at all. It’s happened so fast—the switch—that you think you may be in a perpetual state of shock. It’s hard to comprehend, but the difference is there. Easy to see when you just open your eyes. The biggest you’ve seen is how his first move once he gets home, is always to the fridge or the liquor cabinet. By dinner, he’s usually at least a few beers or glasses of whiskey deep, and by bed, he’s drunk enough to be slurring his speech and forgetting whatever he says the second it’s out of his mouth. 

A couple of nights, he comes home a bit later, and you suspect that he’s been to the bar on those days because he comes home already drunk off his ass. You don’t know what’s worse—watching the buildup or being hit with dread as soon as he walks through the door. There have been a couple days where comes home and doesn’t touch a drop, and you savor them. Those precious moments you get with him when you know he’s listening to you and giving you his time instead of the alcohol.You like to just pretend that everything is okay on those days, because blissful ignorance is better than ruining those good moments by thinking about the bad. Knowing you have days like that, though, makes it so much worse when you go to him, wanting to talk or simply be around him, and then feel the disappointment when it sinks in that he’s already gone. 

It hurts every time he does it, because it makes you feel alone again. You’ve come to understand that he turns into a different person when he drinks, a person you don’t know. This new person—this stranger—likes to hurt you. He’s rageful and hateful and relentless and overpowering. You take a sip of your coffee from where you’re currently sitting at the kitchen table and shiver at the memory of just last night, when he’d fucked you deep into the mattress and spilled within minutes before collapsing on top of you, dead asleep. You keep telling yourself that you wanted it, but you know better. You’d told him no, and when he ignored you, you’d gotten scared. So you let it happen. It’s your own fault for being weak and you know it. 

Besides, that voice in your pounding head challenges, what kind of a woman doesn’t want to make love to her husband? What kind of woman doesn’t want to feel her lover’s touch?

It shames you both ways. Not wanting him but letting him take what he wants anyway. You think that you might be doing it because fighting would make it real. If you just let it happen, he’s not taking anything from you. Maybe if you just let it happen, he’ll stop.

Lies, that other part of your brain spits at you. The more logical one. 

You take another sip to smooth out the knot that’s formed in your throat. You pretend that it was never there. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. 

It seems like every day gets worse. He gets meaner and he takes more and more. You can tell that there’s something making him do it, something controlling the impulse to pick up that bottle and down the entire thing. You wish desperately that he would just talk to you, or that you at least knew what it was so that you could help, but you’re just as useless with that as you are everything else. You want to kill the stranger inside of him. You want to pull him out and gut him and hurt him in every way he’s hurt you. You just want your Javi back. 

But even then, it wouldn’t be the same, and you’re painfully aware of that. It’s still awful and wrong, even now, in those moments he is there. When the Javi you know and love is dormant and there to hold you like nothing’s wrong. The worst part because you don’t know if he remembers everything he does to you. It doesn’t make sense, because you know he sees the bruises that cover your body some days, the way you have to limp when you’re too sore to walk right. You see the glint in his eye when he reaches for you and you flinch away. He can see the physical bruises just as well as your mental wounds, but he acts oblivious, like he’s not to blame for your pain. 

You ignore the tear that slips down your cheek as you catch yourself caught up in it again. It’s so fucking hurtful and confusing. You want to pretend, too. Pretend that none of it ever happened, but you’re the one who has to wear the consequences, so you have no choice but to face them. 

You asked him one morning, when you’d woken up and caught him sober as he was getting ready for work, why he’d hit you the night before. The night before when he’d stripped you and taken you to bed and covered your mouth with his hand when you began to sob. You didn’t mean to, but as you’d tried to get him to stop, you felt skin between your teeth. Just to see if he remembered, you asked him. You know you shouldn’t have, but you were so tired and the hole in your stomach was so large that you needed to know. Just to see if you could find an excuse to forgive him and close it up.

But Javi had stopped and watched you for a moment before his eyes darkened and he looked at you like he was angry at you. “You fucking bit me. What did you think was going to happen?” 

You’d just laid back down and let the tears ease you back to sleep. He knows what he does. You know he does. He just doesn’t care. But why? Why doesn’t he care? Regret it? Feel sorry? What happened?

You’ve become numb with each day that passes, more accepting of the fact that you need to stop letting your emotions control you. The anger, the fear, the hatred. You can still feel it lingering somewhere deep inside of you, waiting for the right moment to pounce, but you’re content to just ignore it for now. Ignore everything that makes you question why. It’s like a tightness around your heart, a shield that went up without your permission. And maybe it’s for the best, but you wish it would drop at least a little, because you feel like you haven’t been able to be yourself around Javi in days. You can tell he sees it, too. But he never says anything. Does he even care that you’re changing, that he’s the one who’s changed you?

You set your now-cold coffee down and look out the window. How the fuck did you get here? You’re so tired of your every day being this. Alone in the apartment, and then scared when you’re not. Sometimes, you don’t know what’s worse. There’s days when you get the idea to just leave, but you know better. You can’t. Your husband is still here, somewhere. You can’t leave him because it would break your heart completely, and not being around him at all is something you can’t handle. And even if he wasn’t, that man who’s replaced him would find you. You know it in your gut that he would. 

You let out a shaky sigh, brush away your tears, and stand up. At least you have things to do today instead of sitting in silence. As far as you know, Steve and Connie are still coming over Sunday night for dinner. The house isn’t too messy, since you usually start your days with tidying up the mess from the night before, but there are things that can be cleaned more thoroughly. The kitchen needs to be scrubbed, the living room tidied. 

Javi had woken you up before he left this morning and asked what you plan on making. He’s going to bring the ingredients home tonight so that everything will be ready for you to start tomorrow. You’re actually excited about that. Not just about seeing people again, but also about putting together an elaborate meal. Recently, it’s been whatever kind of soups or sandwich stuff that Javi brings home for you to make. It’s been too long since you made something more complex than a casserole. 

You bring your mug to the sink and start with that, rinsing it and placing it on the side with the rest of the dirty dishes. You take one look at the massive pile and decide you’ll do that last. You absolutely despise doing the dishes, Besides, leaving it for last will be more rewarding once the pile is gone and everything is officially spotless. 

You start instead with the living room, and then the bathroom, and then the bedroom. It takes all day, but you’re proud of the result by the time you’re ready for the kitchen. It all looks as good as the first time you cleaned it, not a speck of dust in sight, everything in its rightful place. You’re proud of yourself, and catch yourself genuinely smiling as you make your way to the dishes. 

You’re in the kitchen, filling up the sink with water, when he gets home. Keys rattle in the door, making you jump in surprise. It’s only then that you notice it’s gone dark outside. Your eyes flick up to the clock, and your stomach churns when you see the time. It’s almost 12:00am. It shouldn’t take that long to go to the grocery store. You know immediately where he’s been. Your body goes taught as you hear the door shut behind him. He doesn’t announce himself, but you can hear his heavy footsteps as he walks through the house to get to you. They sound wrong, like he’s stumbling. 

Your hands begin to shake as you push the faucet to stop the running water and wipe them down on your shirt. You feel more than see Javi’s broad form stop in the doorway beside you, and you contemplate greeting him, but you don’t know how his day’s been so you don’t want to start anything if he wants silence. 

You pick up one of the plates from the pile beside the sink and dunk it slowly into the water before pouring a bit of soap on it, continuing to avoid eye contact with your husband. The gentle scrub of the sponge against the ceramic and the occasional drip of excess water is the only sound to be heard throughout the house. 

You can feel his eyes on you, and you have to physically resist the urge to squirm beneath his heavy gaze. You just try to keep your breathing steady and focus on your task. 

“Not going to ask me how my day was?” Javi’s voice is hard. Cold. It makes you shiver. Wrong choice, then.

“How was your day?” Your voice in contrast is meek even as you look at him and flash a smile. So small it makes you want to slap yourself. You just blink and keep washing the plate in your hands. 

Javi sighs loudly as he leans against the door frame, as if thinking it over. “How was your day, sweetheart?” He starts to walk toward you, coming up behind you and putting his hands on your waist, ducking down a bit to press his lips to your neck.

“It was fine,” you say, though there’s a pang of hurt as you wish so badly that he was asking genuinely. That he wanted to talk to you, wanted to be here with you. 

He nods against you, his hands traveling down to your waistband. You squirm a bit but try to hold still in hopes that he’ll just stop. “Just fine, hm? I can make it better.” Your eyes shut. Of course he wouldn’t. 

“No, thank you, my day was good. I’m just tired.” You start to push his hands off of you, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Well, I didn’t have a very good day,” he counters. “I was looking forward to coming home and fucking my sweet, pretty little wife, ‘n’ then she tells me she doesn’t want me.” 

Irritation prickles at your neck, warring with the fear that’s made a home there already. “That’s not what I said, Javi, and you know it.” 

“Oh, but it is.” He pulls you tighter, slipping one hand down your shorts to feel your panties. You whimper, trying to get out of his grasp. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, baby. Fucking scared. disgusted” 

You freeze against him. 

“I don’t want you to be scared, sweetheart,” he coos. He brings the hand that’s not cupping your pussy up to your cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “But your tears are so fucking sweet that I just can’t help myself sometimes.” 

You shake as he slowly brings his thumb up to your lips, pressing harder and harder until you’re forced to let him in and taste the salty drop on your tongue. 

“I do it for you, baby. You know it’s all for your own good.” He makes your head nod up and down with the hand grasping your chin. “Just gotta keep you safe.” 

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, a quiet sob leaving you as he does so. He grasps your hip again and grinds your ass into his erection. “And you don’t even care to show your thanks.” He tuts, and even the mock disappointment in his tone makes you want to crumble and cry. “Thought you were better ‘n that, sweetheart.” 

You’re gasping in quiet and shallow breaths at this point, your face heated with shame. You know it’s not him talking, but you can’t help but hate yourself for what he’s telling you. You’re a disappointment. He thought you were better. You’re a screwup to him just like you are for everyone else. The voices and taunts swirl around in your head until you’re so overwhelmed that you have to close your eyes to settle them. 

“Stop!” The ferocity in your voice surprises even you. The anger and hurt revealed is raw and visceral, out in the open for him to catch a glimpse of what you’re feeling inside. “Get your hands off me, Javi.” 

He chuckles darkly into your hair, his hand now coming to your throat. You swallow thickly and stiffen as he loosely wraps it around your neck, holding you close to him. He doesn’t apply pressure, but it’s enough to make you bite your tongue to stifle anything else that might want to slip out. 

“I don’t think you’re really in a position to be demanding things, baby,” he says the words gently. “Why don’t you try asking nicely.” 

You blink, and all you can think is that you’re so fucking tired. “Please let me go,” you give in and whisper. 

“What was that?” His hand tightens ever so slightly, and then slackens again. You eye his booted foot next to yours, and get the idea to stomp on it, but you know why that’s not a good idea. You speak up.

“I said, please let me—” 

He tightens his grip, crushing your windpipe as he holds to the point where you can’t draw a breath. “Thought I fuckin’ told you who was in charge,” his voice comes to your ringing ears. He keeps still as you struggle, even though you’re trying your hardest not to. “Don’t make me have to remind you, sweetheart. I don’t like to see you hurt, but I can’t promise anything if you keep acting so high and fucking mighty.” 

He lets you go, and you practically collapse against him. He wraps his arms around you and you lose it. 

“Leave me alone, you fucking bastard!” You scream at him with the first breath you can manage, spinning around and backing away as you push and hit at him, trying to get his arms off of you. If you can just get away, maybe you can lock yourself in the bedroom and wait until he’s taken his anger out on something else. You don’t feel bad at all as you claw at him. You manage to get an arm loose and you use it to land a slap to his face. His hold on you loosens the slightest bit, and you use the chance to scramble away even as your stomach drops as you realize what you just did.  

You should have known better. It all happens in slow motion as your head comes into contact with the lip of the counter, right by the sink. He’s forced you back around and is now folded over you, using one hand to shove your shorts down and the other to pin the back of your neck down. “Fucking bitch!” he yells into your ear, and you know that you just made this worlds worse for yourself. 

You heave wet sobs as he brings his fingers to your bare cunt and roughly shoves two inside, your hips bucking as you try to get away. You’re yelling something as well, something that sounds a lot like ‘stop’, over and over again. 

You can’t focus on whatever words are spilling from his mouth now, only on the ringing on your ears and the water sloshing around in the sink only about an inch away from you. A jolt of deeper fear runs through you as you catch the gleam of it, and you scream and cry louder and struggle even harder, trying to do something, anything, before Javi gets the idea that just flashed through your head. 

Maybe it was your own fault with all the screaming, or maybe he saw it at the same time you did, but his hand on your neck starts to move higher, until it’s on the back of your head. You resist as much as you can, not even feeling his defiling fingers anymore as your nose touches the soapy water and pieces of your hair grow heavy as they soak it up. You can tell the second you’re going to lose the fight, and you realize that you’ve never been so terrified in your life. 

Between the sobs and screams and tears, you don’t get much of a breath before you’re being submerged. Your body flails wildly, and you think in that second that you’re going to die. He’s going to kill you. The terror running through your body is indescribable. You just want to scream but you can’t. You want to close your eyes and go before you lose the small breath you have and water floods your lungs. It feels like a nightmare, like it’s not real, can’t be happening to you. But it is, and you don’t understand why. What the fuck did you do to deserve this? 

You push and push up with all your might, using your hands against the counter and your entire body to try to lift your head, but he keeps his hand on top, not letting you breathe the surface no matter what. You feel so pathetic as your body shakes with silent cries that you’re forced to hold in through the panic.

You almost forget about everything else until you feel his cock push inside of you, and you scream. You forget, and upon the burning sensation as he forces himself into you, you open your mouth and take in gulps of water. Your body surges with pain and fear as the burn spreads up to your chest and then to the rest of your body. 

This is the end, this is the end, this is the end. 

Everything you’ve ever known will be gone. Your family probably won’t even know what happened, won’t care. Nobody will. Maybe Javi will eventually, if he ever comes back. Your vision starts to go black, and your body slackens, your hands falling uselessly as you lose the energy to fight. He’s going to hate himself, you realize. And that thought may hurt you most of all. He’s going to be alone, just like you. You won’t be there to help him. Your Javi is going to be devastated. 

That’s the last thing through your mind as your consciousness fades to black. 

*****

The end.

******

LMAO JK

Next chapter will be up next Friday 😘

Series taglist:  @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy

@survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff  @missladym1981 @sofiparallel

@koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi

@justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog @glitterymanboy @letstalkaboutshtufff

@untamedheart81

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒.

pairing: coriolanus snow x toxic!fem!reader

summary: someone always throw a spanner in her works, to achieve her biggest dream —being coriolanus’ lover, wife and claiming power. luckily, y/n is not on the loser side when it comes to playing. 

trigger warnings (overall): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, blood, violence, killing people, hunger games stuff, i just love volumnia gaul, reader hates lucy gray and everybody who’s around coriolanus, mental health problems mentioned such as psychotism, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies. 

trigger warnings (in this part): toxic!reader, reader meets lucy gray for the first time, reader hates arachne, DEATH, blood, cruelty against people, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, unhealthy body image, drugs, SMUT, p in v, fingering, poorly written smut.  

prologue. part 1. part 2.

y/n squirmed on the inside. 

it was strange, but not unusual. y/n always squirmed when she went to the zoo, seeing animals in locked cages was not her kind of pleasure. it didn’t help that the media was there too, so she had to play nice in front of everyone. probably she could never warn lucy gray, not to mention that in front of coriolanus. if she ever said a word about executing her from the picture in any sort of ways, lucy gray was surely the tricky bitch who would spill it to him. and that was the last thing she needed. y/n sighed, blinking a couple of times before she turned to the grid of the cage the tributes were held –being nice to not to get unveiled was truly a tiring thing. but at least, lucy gray wasn’t the one who got to go to dinner with coriolanus. no, not on her watch. 

“are you feeling okay, y/n?” did she look not okay? that can’t be possible. even if her uterus were eating her up and her corset tried to pierce her ribcage, y/n’s rule that she should never look like a damsel in distress, she just shook her head. 

“everything’s fine, corio. will you introduce me to lucy gray?” 

so here we go. 

safe to say, lucy gray was pretty good looking. y/n had to admit this, she could state anything about anybody, but being pretty was really objective, based on the standards. of course, not as good- and well-looking as someone from the capitol, anyone could always judge if a person was from the capitol or one of the districts. even people from the first and second district were much more… chav. lucy gray was skinny, underfed and messy, how could she ever compare with y/n? nevertheless, she had to make sure that lucy gray doesn’t think of herself as though she believed she was. it was important for het to not become a main character in her game. y/n saw the whole world as a big, never-ending set of games, because it was, depending on how seriously people took it. because in the world, there were many games. games about money, about power, about life and death, and about control. and lucy gray wasn’t the one who had connections. but now wasn’t the time to beef, if lucy gray blows off at the games, coriolanus will never get the plinth-prize, and y/n didn’t had that much time and space to find out something for that, too. so lucy gray had to survive. y/n just had to make sure that the end justifies the means, and she was nothing but a tool to get money and power. 

sejanus was already showing food for marcus. shit, sejanus… y/n’s mind was bugging, she still didn’t know what to do with him. if her game was a table of chess and coriolanus was the rook on the table, then sejanus was the queen… or the king. he could take a simple checkmate on all of her moves, no matter what. yes, sejanus was following coriolanus with getting food to his tribute, but only one bad move from him was enough to screw up all of her plans. and sure, he had noble parents, and he could pull out his head from the hook, but not coriolanus. and against the fact with the two being good friends, blood was still thicker than water. 

“lucy gray, this is my good friend, y/n y/l/n.” and his soon-to-be wife and lover. 

“hello, y/n.” act casual, act natural. don’t talk about feeling sorry for fucking around the mayor’s daughter and her lover, this isn’t announced. never let them know you did research all night. 

“hi, lucy gray. how are you feeling? probably… not so good because of this cage.”

“i’m pretty fine, thank you. just hungry a little bit.” 

“oh, i brought you food. y/n and i thought about getting you food.”

“yes. you have to be strong for the games.” if you dare to die, i’m going to kill you myself. how could anybody do this small talk for so long? words didn’t came into her mouth, she wasn’t the type who could talk for hours about nothing. there were days when she was alone with the maids in the house, or upstairs, and she didn’t talk for days if nobody bothered her. 

“thank you so much.” lucy gray whispered, taking the cookie, offering one to her. y/n looked at the cookie, then her. looking at the cameras, she shook her head. eating a cookie with a tribute? if somebody sees this, she will be treated equally as the other students, and she won't let it. she was now a working woman, one of the workers of volumnia gaul, what would she say if she saw this? 

“oh, no… i can’t eat cookies. i just had breakfast.” she wasn't in the mood to eat cookies with this girl, watching how arachne played with her tribute was more interesting. 

“you said you skipped breakfast because you slept in.” looking at coriolanus, y/n slapped herself in her mind. her bleeding days were killing her brain, and no medicine could make her concentrate enough. 

“uhm, yeah, but i ate at work. really, we bought the cookies and the food for you, so–” what the fuck was with her? were the pills she took yesterday night too strong? 

“y/n, did you eat or not?” coriolanus’ question and his worried face made her… satisfied. not because he was worrying about her, but because he was busy with her. y/n blinked up, shrugging her shoulders. thinking about he’s gonna be worried about her when they’re gonna be a couple, even pregnant, it was pure pleasure. 

“it’s alright, corio. i will eat when i get home, and i will eat at night, on our date.” she whispered, audible enough to lucy gray. holding his hand, she hoped she reassured her. “really, it’s nothing. let’s… care about lucy gray, she’s your tribute.” 

as coriolanus crouched down to her, y/n wanted to do the same, but lucretius flickerman was faster, approaching her with his loyal cameramen. 

“...and what a surprise that we are seeing a true noble, a noble from the noble, y/n y/l/n! tell me, how are you here?” he asked, y/n tried not to look into the camera as he almost showed the microphone into her mouth. 

“i just accompanied coriolanus and the others from the school. as well as they’re his friends and classmates, they’re my friends, too.” 

“how cute! tell me y/n, if you could bet on one of the tributes, perhaps even supporting them, who would you choose?” tricky question, tricky question! if everybody sees this, hyping up coriolanus wasn’t a bad idea. 

“i think… it’s a good question. some of them, such as marcus and lucy gray. i think they’re good. marcus seems strong, and lucy gray… she surely knows more than just singing.” she wanted to punch the cameramen, everybody could surely see how white her teeth were. 

“it’s really interesting… also, we heard a rumor that you work with volumnia gaul now. is it interesting to see how the games improve?” trying not to furrow her eyebrows, y/n looked at lucretius. 

“my work at dr. gaul and everything that happens there is strictly confidential. i can’t say anything about the games, but it’s gonna be really entertaining.” 

“thank you so much, lady y/l/n! now, let’s see how–” 

clunk! the sounds of iron and glass clashing catched the showman’s ears too, looking into the direction. y/n couldn’t decide to laugh or look terrified at the sight of the blood that was mounting from arachne’s neck. standing at the grid of the cage, she saw as coriolanus hurried to help arachne. he was still running to help her, a really, really good man… y/n knew why she loved him. 

“what the hell happened?” lucy gray whispered to her, making her shake out from her state. looking at her, y/n clenched her jaw. 

“i’m going there. stay away from that girl who stabbed her.” 

stepping to the scene, y/n crouched down too, caring about not touching the soiled ground with her silk skirt, wondering about the color of the blood. a big pool, arachne’s life. one hand still around the bottle, she was smart enough to keep it in, but she couldn’t like with a broken bottle in her neck forever! sardonic slut, making jokes of everyone, licking up and kicking down. i know you talked about me when i wasn’t near, calling me a psycho, and that i was my parent’s pet and mentally disabled for being a private student. the truth is, i never could stand that perfidious snake-face of yours. how could you ever face the mirror in the morning without breaking it with your eyesight? without spitting on yourself? 

“y/n, what are we gonna do?” coriolanus asked her. his hands were shaking, one at her neck. she brushed arachne’s hair, trying to patch up the blood with her handkerchief, wiping her eyes like she was crying. everybody was rushing from them and the cage, peacekeepers were surrounding them. 

“i don’t know, dear… i am so sorry, arachne was such a good friend of yours…” 

“somebody help, please!” he cried out, making her look away, to the exact point as one of the men shot the stabbing tribute girl in the stomach. well, at least lucy gray didn’t have to worry about her any longer. “what the fuck is happening, y/n?” 

“i don’t know, i don’t know!” she knew exactly. just as the peacekeepers grabbed coriolanus’ and her arm to drag them away, y/n signed them to let her go. “i just… i just want to look at her, please, for the last time.” 

“you only got one minute. your little friend stays here.” 

stepping over arachne’s body, she lowered down to see the light gone from arachne’s eyes. as her hair covered her face, y/n tried to press down the smile as she thought about her list. look at you, arachne… mocking everybody, and now you became the prey? deep down, you wanted to die like this, didn’t you? as a victim. so everybody can forget how sordid you are. nobody will ever know the truth about what you did, playing with that filthy girl’s food, what did you think she will do? jump around and beg for you? now, everybody only can say how clever and beauty you were, how hard you tried to get the fucking plinth prize, cracking their hands as they look at each other at your funeral. nobody will ask why the girl stabbed you, thanks to the contrary of the capitol and the districts, but hey, that’s why we love being distinguished, isn’t it? and don’t worry, i’ll keep your secrets, and you don’t even have to thank me crane, because i am a good friend. a really good one. 

reaching for her eyelids, y/n slowly pulled them down. she was never near a dead body, and the thought of it disgusted her a little bit. she wasn’t a killer, she was… a gamer. a really good one. the blood almost spilled on her shoes, how filthy. 

turning back to coriolanus as they walked out, she leant her head on his shoulder. instantly thinking about the date, would it be morbid to kiss upon their dead friend’s corpse? arachne has nothing to do with this. well, she had nothing to do with this. 

“are you okay, dear?” she asked from him, looking up to him. 

“yes, it’s just… i still can’t perceive what happened. and you, are you okay?” coriolanus muttered as they sat down on one of the benches in the park. cars were honking, wheels clashing against the gravel; the ambulance arrived. a hearse could be better, but y/n couldn’t blame them. it was strange to see clemensia and arachne get out of the picture, they were sidekicks for too long. 

“i am okay, thanks.” 

“you just saw her dying, and went back, why did you do that?” looking at him, coriolanus shook his head. “i’m sorry y/n, i shouldn’t ask you that, it’s just… i was so terrified, maybe i am still right now.” 

“i just… wanted to say goodbye. arachne was a little bit mocky all the time, but… she was a friend. a good one.” her sound was a little bit catatonic in her head, all the time she told a lie. 

“you are right. sorry for asking this, really, i didn’t have the spirit to go back there.” 

“don’t worry, corio. maybe she shouldn’t play with that girl… you know how cruel the games can be.”

“you are right, y/n. the games are stressful for everybody.” y/n nodded, reaching for his hand. 

“do you have the stomach for tonight? i know this is horrible, but… maybe we can get each other into a better mood.” 

looking at her, she tried to smile a little bit. not a too big, unnatural smile compared to the fact that somebody just died, and not even a poker face like she didn’t fucking care about what happened. 

“of course i have the stomach, it would be my pleasure, y/n. i just have to go home to change.” coriolanus answered, making y/n truly, truly happy. 

“it’s really good to hear.” 

a death is one thing, but the future is another. 

she had to make the move, arachne’s death could slow down things. hortensia pulled her hair a little bit, curling it with little clips, swirling her locks around heated sticks. this night had to be perfect, exactly because of what happened. running through her eyebrows with a clipper, she looked at the clock –she had still an hour, her clothes laid on her bed. 

“you are gonna be so beautiful, miss y/l/n.” the maid praised her as she lined her eyebrows, spraying perfume on her wrists and behind her ears. morphia did the same when she was meeting timothé, and they were together, didn’t they? rubbing nacre powder over her eyelids, she was ready. 

“could you pull my corset tighter, hortensia? please.” standing up, she held onto the pillar of her bed. 

“are you sure, miss y/l/n? i’m afraid that–”

“i am sure, hortensia. we will be afraid if coriolanus snow won't like my appearance.” 

it was painful. feeling her bowels sticking together, framed by her bones that dug into her stomach and lungs, but at least she looked desirable. 

“are you feeling alright, miss y/l/n?” 

“of course, i’m fine. thank you.” she muttered as the maid helped her pick up the clothes. a red dress, slightly slit up but not too long to look like a prostitute, a couple of black heels, not too high to fall in them. suddenly the door creaked, it was her mother. a glass of wine in her hand, she leaned on the doorframe, a silly smile on her face. 

“look at my little girl, hortensia. isn’t she beautiful and adorable?” she asked, making the maid turn to her. 

“she’s beautiful, lady y/l/n.” 

“she already told me that, mommy.” y/n muttered, a little bit annoyed at the fact that her mother looked up and down on her like a piece of meat. sure, everybody always measured her like she was one, but her own family could at least have a little dignity for each other. 

“it’s natural that you are stressed. is that a corset on you?” lorelei asked, placing down her cup to brush out the dress, the wrinkles on the waist area were long gone. 

“thanks.” y/n responded. 

“i was just as terrified as you before i met your father, i can tell you, y/n. but it went well, because the three of you are here, aren’t you?” she giggled, making y/n roll her eyes. 

“don’t you have to watch the tv, mommy?” she turned to her as hortensia cleaned her shoes. 

“i know you don’t want me here, my dear. and it’s perfectly fine that you want to concentrate on your little date today.” it’s not only a stupid little date, it’s the whole matter of my future. “also, i know that you want to marry coriolanus snow, but honey, is he really worth it?” 

y/n turned, crouching in front of her mother; holding her hand as hortensia walked out, she knew her more than her mother. y/n could bear many things, but questioning her love was the main thing that set her mind on fire. looking at the place her mother stood only a couple of minutes ago, the hole of the butter knife got her eyesight. she looked like her mother too much, staring at her was like staring at the life she could get, but so much better. 

“mommy, please. if you want to question me, talk with father about it. otherwise, never doubt me, ever.” talking with long, stiff words, y/n brushed her mother’s hand. “do you understand me?” 

for a moment, she thought that her mother was gonna slap her, but instead, lorelei giggled. as she searched for her glass. 

“you are much more determined than morphia, my dear. i hope your date will go well, the chauffeur is yours tonight. if snow comes too, then… don’t make much noise. your father won't be here tonight anyway, but i’d like to get some sleep.” she said, turning out on the door, closing it. hortensia asked if she could come in, making y/n nod. looking onto the picture where she and coriolanus stood, she didn’t even realize her heart was nearly beating out of her ribcage. picking up her white, snow-like stole, spraying perfume on herself, hortensia straightened her dress, escorting her down the stairs. 

the place coriolanus offered wasn’t a big deal, but that’s what she needed. as long as they could talk without one of her father’s workers or her mother’s friends interrupting them, it was fine. helping her take off her stole and pull out the chair for her like a gentleman, y/n asked for an easy meal. not being able to think with a full stomach was one point of that, but the other was the meaning of the meal. watching his father’s guests taught her that when somebody wanted to have breakfast, lunch, dinner or even a fucking tea party, it wasn’t about food, no. food was just the cloak to cover up nasty things. 

“are you feeling alright?” coriolanus asked her as they got their food. y/n dug into hers, then looked up at him, smiling. he didn’t look like a half-god; he looked like apollo himself. the dim light sculpted his cheeks and his lips, y/n wanted to dig into his hair between two messy kisses, and although she was a virgin, she could imagine how it was like to have him thrust into her, giving out the animal-like noises she remembered in her dreams. 

“of course, this is a really lovely place. i am so happy that we are here, i wanted to do this for so long.” she answered, placing down her fork as she held his hand. 

“for so long? how long, y/n?” he teasingly smiled, making y/n look away. for a lifetime, baby. 

“from the moment… you helped me up in the hall of the college.” 

“so from the moment we first met?” 

“no, we met before! i…” will the truth hurt him? “...i noticed you at a dinner we attended with my family.” she was fourteen, and coriolanus moved things in her like nobody else. probably that was the time when the chemicals in her brain made her difficult, nearly banging her head against the wall as she couldn’t even understand herself.

“which one?” 

“two years ago.” a little lie couldn’t hurt anybody. 

“it’s gonna surprise you, but… i noticed you too, y/n. i wanted to talk to you, but you had to escort your sister, and my grandma said that it’s not appropriate.” 

“really? that’s so… inevitable, don’t you think?”

“i don’t know about these things so much, y/n. but i think you are so beautiful.” 

“thank you so much. you look also handsome, coriolanus. and… i want to talk about something, something that… can really, really influence our future.” 

“really?” he asked, making y/n slightly lift her eyebrows. oh god, be not only a fling, y/n. 

“yes, of course! you know, my family takes marriage really seriously, and…” seeing the slight worry on his face, y/n held his hand again. “i really don’t want to rush you, my dear. it’s just, my father gave his blessing when i told him that we are going on a date.” well, he’s not really, but he will. cyril will even thank her when she’s gonna be the first lady of panem. 

“that’s wonderful, y/n! you know, i’d never guess that, because, you know… how me and my family, and my father–”

“corio, please. what happened in the past didn’t depend on you. it was a real, gigantic catastrophe.” those wankers took everything away from us. “who would have guessed what’s gonna happen with the thirteenth district? your family bet on the wrong horse, but sometimes, it happens.” 

“i know, but it’s still my job to get money to help my family.” coriolanus answered, taking a sip from his wine. “you know, y/n, this plinth-prize thing is tiring me out as hell, and i really don’t know what to do. it can seem like i’m in control, but all i see are walls and i keep clashing into them. i knew i had a big chance to get that prize, and i hoped that things would turn out in a good way, but… i don’t know, it’s like a curse.” 

y/n nodded, leaning on her hands, brushing the ring on her middle finger. her ring finger was reserved from the moment she saw coriolanus. 

“i hope i’m not boring you, y/n, but–”

“no, of course you don’t! it is my pleasure that you share your concerns with me, although i can’t do much. i wanted to offer my help, but things happened too fast, and volumnia has eyes everywhere. i still don’t know what she’s going to think about today, when i lucretius asked me up. being asked before cameras is not my type.” 

“don’t worry, i don’t like him either. but he’s gonna present the whole games, so i have to get used to it.” 

“you will, my dear, and i have no doubts about that.” she smiled, eating some more. trying to get her foot more comfortable as the heels burned her soles, she accidentally knocked into coriolanus’ legs, making her look up at him. “oh my, sorry, it’s just…”

“don’t worry, y/n. does your feet hurt in those heels? i can’t comprehend that even when tigris are wearing them, they look awful to walk in.” 

“no, it’s perfectly fine.” noble people doesn’t have to dig in the mine or sweat in the factories, but as hard to swallow a pill, the hard work is still their task –redistribution between districts and control all the twelve districts are really hard, while they have to wear uncomfortable shoes and suits, smiling every time even if the question is the most humiliating shit ever. deep down everyone in every district knew that if the capitolium lashed out, there wouldn’t be the slightest hope of survival.

“if you say so… and, how is the work with volumnia?”

“well, i can’t tell you secrets, but… she’s pretty okay.” she’s an animal. she would be ready anytime to pull my stomach out through my throat if i’d tell anything about what’s going inside there. “her ways are interesting, i admit that, nevertheless, she’s a mastermind.” 

“i’d like to work beside a mastermind, or to talk with a mastermind.” silly boy, he was already dating with one right now. but even y/n didn’t know that. she never knew any other mindset than hers. 

after dinner, coriolanus paid and helped her out of the restaurant. the city lights were dim and almost turned off, but the night didn’t end, not for them. 

“thank you, corio. this was a lovely, lovely night.” she whispered, putting her hand on his shoulder as they stood before each other. she imagined as they stepped out from even such a little restaurant, photos flashing around them, people admiring them as they sat in the car to go home to a big castle or mansion. 

“thank you for coming, y/n. and give my greetings and thankfulness to your father.” leaning down, more like supporting than holding her jawline gently with his fingers, he pressed a kiss on her forehead, y/n’s knees brushed in her excitement. only coriolanus could bring out this state from her, nobody and nothing else. she was a diamond under pressure, and coriolanus was the last push she always needed to be more perfect. as he ended the soft kiss, y/n pursed her lips, looked at his eyes, then his lips. and the next move surprised her even, tearing her soul into pieces in a good way. 

coriolanus lifted up her face by her chin to kiss her. so this was it? this is what true love feels like? this is what fulfilled love and devotion feels like? he was so soft, she wanted to bite into his skin, but instead, her lips just brushed his, slimming down her hand to his chest, as he softly grabbed her neck to make her stay. oh my, y/n thought, sighing as she sipped a fresh bite of air through her nose. she didn’t want to end this, no. not tonight. god knows when they can be together again, be together like this. 

behind them, a car honked. despite being a good chauffeur, helius isn’t the best at timing, y/n thought as she almost rolled her eyes annoyed by her chauffeur, brushing coriolanus’ face to make him stop. 

“this is your car? sorry, i’m…” 

“come with me, corio.” she whispered, brushing her lips against his chin. 

“are you sure about that? your parents–” y/n grabbed his hand, slowly dragging him to the car as helius opened the door for them. coriolanus helped her get in, as the car started to drive, y/n turned to coriolanus. they began to kiss again, she tried to brush her tongue to his, but now he was the one who pushed her away gently, trying to brush his hair to look somehow collected. “y/n, your parents are home? i can’t be respectful enough if they see that i’m eating up their daughter.” 

“my father isn't home, and my mother is sleeping now. please, dear…” she tried to lean over him, it was impossible because of the height difference. coriolanus smiled, brushing her face. 

“how could i say no to you after this?” he said, letting her bury her lips into hers for the rest of the ride. arriving home, y/n nodded to helius as he could now retire for the rest of the night. stepping up on the marble front garden fastly, she opened the door. placing her finger before her lips, she signed to coriolanus to be quiet, hurrying up on the stairs to her room. y/n was glad that hortensia did her job and tidied up the place, so all they had to do was lie down and continue what they began. 

“you are so beautiful”, coriolanus moaned as he peeled down his coat and his jacket, y/n threw her stole onto the dressing table. 

“you are so handsome”, y/n whispered, kicking off her shitty but glamorous shoes, helping him unbutton his shirt as she kissed his jawline. something strange took over her mind; if someone asked her what she’s going to do tomorrow, she couldn’t answer, couldn’t form even a single thought. it was so animalistic, just as she hovered over coriolanus, sitting on his hips as she tried to unzip her dress, as coriolanus reached for it to help her, y/n remembered that she had a corset on. leaning away from him, she faced the mirror on the dressing table. 

“what’s the matter, y/n? did i do something?” he asked, reaching after her as she tried to pull it off without him noticing, but it was impossible even for her. “y/n, what are you doing? is that… holy, you wear a corset?” 

“yes, but… don’t worry, it’s just because…” who the fuck was her? she wasn’t bragging, why did she slip apart? she stopped her thoughts as coriolanus crawled behind her, helping her unzip her red dress, kissing her hair from behind. 

“y/n, i hope you know that you don’t need that.” coriolanus muttered, grabbing the ropes of the corset to ease it around her form. kissing her hair again, then moving around to get to her cheeks. as he reached her lips, the corset was undone, thrown into the corner of the room. “it can stay there, love. look at yourself, how beautiful you are, the girl i fell in love with.” 

looking into the mirror, it always saw makeup and craziness, and now… look at yourself, y/n, getting what you wanted. is this how the world works? is this how the university rewards me for my efforts, my sacrifices? y/n look at coriolanus in the mirror, the red dress holding the last bits of her breasts, turning to him, she let him get over. peeling off her dress, by an instinct, brushing his clothed cock with her knees, hearing an elated whine from him. she knew he was a virgin, she was too, but she moaned louder when coriolanus brushed her naked breasts, playing with her nipples while kissing her. it was so new, so unusual, and yet, everytime his fingertips touched her sensitive buds, she felt her blood striking down to her core. 

“do you like this, y/n?” he asked, making her hiss, nodding as she looked up at him. 

“yes… please, corio… i want you…” she gasped, trying to reach for his cock even if she didn’t know what it was going to feel like. coriolanus smiled shyly, reaching for her hips to lift it so he could take off her underwear. y/n wasn’t shy, and this was the first real pussy he ever saw, and if it depended on her, the last one, too. so, how could he compare her to any other girl? 

“i want you, too. but… i heard that it can hurt.” he kissed her, and a slight pain striked her core as she felt something crawl up. she accidentally bit down on his lips too hard, drawing blood. “i’m sorry, y/n, i just thought that–”

“please don’t stop,” she cut into his words, grabbing his hand to guide it back. if his fingers were this long and stretching her out this much, how is she going to fit his perfect cock into her cunt? it was painful at first, but it changed to pleasure, she hoped coriolanus felt the same silk on the inside, the silk she felt every time she fingered herself. the impulse grew in her stomach, similar to the way when she was fingering herself, but it was another impulse. erratic, something she wanted to scoop up into a bowl and drink from it. coriolanus stopped, pulling his fingers out, y/n grabbed his wrist to lick herself off. it was messy, but she swore she saw his pupils dilated as he looked at her. 

“i think it’s time for me to take this off too, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling down the waistband of his underwear. she hadn't seen so many cocks before, but he was so… beautiful. not too short, not too long, curling up a little bit, almost touching his abdomen from the excitement. y/n hoped that from the previous actions he got hard, because that’s what the girls always talked about at girly nights, but seeing the pre-cum dripping down on coriolanus’ cock got her mouth watering.

“do you want me to pleasure you?” she asked, already leaning up on her elbows. coriolanus shook his head, kissing her as he guided her to lay back down. 

“no, love. it’s not about you, it’s just… i don’t think i’m going to last long even if we begin this,” he whispered, y/n giggled as coriolanus rolled his eyes joyfully. 

“this is my first time too, corio.” 

“i know, and i’m trying to make it hurt as little as i can, but please don’t be mad at me if–” y/n grabbed his chin, making him face again. 

“how could i ever be mad at you?” she asked silently, brushing her forehead to his. coriolanus held her hand, grabbing his cock with the other, placing it to her core. y/n held onto his shoulder, just as in her dream. 

“i hope you will enjoy this just as much as i do.” he whispered, kissing her, slowly slipping inside. y/n felt like she was teared apart, hissing, pressing her thighs to his waist. even a tear slipped from between her lashes as she tried to hold in the agonizing scream. she knew this would turn intp pleasure and sparks too, but it was so fucking unbelieveable to realize. 

“should we stop, y/n?” coriolanus asked, his sound husky from the thigh feeling, burying his head into her neck. y/n shook her head, slipping her fingers into the hair on the back of his head. 

“just keep going, it will be good, i believe”, she muttered, and with that, he began to thrust. the first dozen were painful, as if his cock tried to murder her, but after a little time, it eased up, and she caught herself softly moaning as their lips melted into each other again. “you can be faster if you want”, y/n whispered, making coriolanus nod, an adorable look on his face from trying to concentrate and not cumming. when he first hit the spot where she could never reach, y/n almost clawed into his back from the pleasure. she understood why people loved to make love; the way his cock filled her pussy was so natural and so perfect, her heartbeat and his moans thrumming in her ears, his big hand grabbing into hers stronger and stronger, not letting her lift up hers, ever, pinning down and dominating her. another tear striked from her eyes, but this was because of happiness, pure beatitude. 

“i’m… ngh, love, i’m not going to last long”, coriolanus moaned, hitting her pleasure spot again and again, making y/n’s abdomen curl tighter and tighter. she felt as if she was a bomb ready to explode, reaching down with her free hand to her clit, circling it. it was too much, feeling how pubic lifted and fell every time he pulled out, only thrust into her, y/n turned her head so she could last longer, but it didn’t help, coriolanus was everywhere, in her mouth, her cunt, her hand, her ears and her eyesight, even in her mind. 

“i’m…ah, corio, i’m going to cum, love…” she tried to say, his cock giving her the finishing move to push her over the edge. everything turned to white and black at the same time, she felt the pleasure and pressure blowing up in every cell of her body, striking through her veins to get the sensation from head to toe, thighs pressed to his side to make him go deeper, she felt her mouth opened, a silent scream coming out as a long, ragged, guttural moan. feeling him slowing down, she knew coriolanus reached his high too, laying his head on her collarbone, breathing heavily. for a moment, y/n didn’t know where she was, she only felt the softness under her, his body upon hers, and the last, tingling feeling in her pussy. 

coriolanus pushed himself down from her, laying beside her on his back, placing his hand on his chest. y/n looked at him, panting, smiling as she could, kissing his face. 

a couple minutes later she was dressed in a robe just as him, the blanket covering them. y/n laid on his chest, looking into the fire, grabbing one of his hands as he stroked her hair. 

“this was fantastic, y/n. thank you so much, for everything.” 

y/n rolled her eyes, kissing his skin as she smiled. this wasn’t the soft smile she formed in front of him, this was the smile she formed when she was alone, but the darkness kept her secrets. for a moment, clemensia and arachne long forgotten, even sejanus’s and lucy gray’s face faded as there were just the two of them. 

“you don’t have to thank me for anything, corio. i am glad that you are happy.” 

a/n: i'm really really really tired but i couldn't let you down girliez!! i hope you liked it, i passed my test but i'm gonna have another )): nevetheless, i'll try and write more and more parts because i have plans, so don't worry <3

taglist: @champomiel @stelleduarte @diamondsbestie @tomriddles-wh0re @ikeryn @americanprometheuss @themorriganisamonster @cybersry @marihoneywk @randomgurl2326 @jxynotfound @velunis @theoriginalwife000 @coconut-dreamz @lukepattersin

[foursaints]

YAYYYYYY ITS PETER TIME im always thinkin abt that horrible little Freaque im glad to see him being represented w all his evil ingenue swag (+ not as either the fat funny friend or 'no one rlly cared about him to begin with :/')

id love to know more of your thoughts on the betrayal / how he interacts w the other death eaters !!

to me the key part of the betrayal is: you have to have a GIANT ego to act as pathetic as peter does.

it’s that orson welles quote: “He is arrogant. Like all people with timid personalities, his arrogance is unlimited. Anybody who speaks quietly and shrivels up in company is unbelievably ­arrogant. He acts shy, but he’s not. He’s scared. He hates himself, and he loves himself, a very tense situation.”

i think he genuinely sees himself as above the other marauders, as cleverer, despite all evidence to the contrary. it’s because his private internal world (where he keeps his ugliness, his roiling jealousy, his manipulative tendencies) is so well-hidden and untainted that it feels sacred to him.

yes they look down on him, and he lets them, but they’ve never glimpsed the REAL peter. they don’t know what he’s capable of <- this mentality is how he copes with his existence.

normally i would say that this is a delusion of grandeur developed to cope with the material reality of being inadequate… except peter actually DID get the last fucking laugh! i think this arrogance is central to his character & is the reason he would authentically get along with the death eaters better.

[adultish-momma]

High Horses and Lashing Vipers

Two prideful people fight in a kitchen. That's it, that's the fic.

Warnings!(?): Jamil and Yuu curse. A lot. Nothing too extreme (at least I don't think), but there are quite a few f bombs. I headcannon that Jamil curses a lot in his head so when he feels safe enough to speak without a filter that translates to real life.

A/N: Can you tell which trope Yuu and Jamil would be after this fic? No but honestly I mentally come back to this fight all. the. time. I've had most of this dialogue in my drafts for almost two years? So I figured it was finally time to put this piece to bed. Hope you all enjoy!

As always please do let me know if there's any warnings you think I've missed!

"How's it feel?"

They startle him, appearing like a ghost to haunt him with his failures. He cuts them a mean side-eye, glare intensifying at the disappoinment radiating off of them.

"How's what feel?" He hopes his words drip venom. He feels like he can still feel the poison from the ink racing in his veins. Part of him hopes they still feel it too.

"How's it feel knowing you had the entirety of the Scalding Sands in the palms of your hands, and you threw it all away?"

They can't be serious.

"Threw it away?" A derisivie scoff. "You took it from me. I had it, and you and those meddling mer-fucks ripped it away from me!"

"Please, your little coup hissy fit was nothing. You threw away any ounce of power you had when you decided to betray Kalim."

At this point Jamil is seething, that same viscous and angry feeling from the Overblot seeping into his pores. His vision blurs at the edges, eyes narrowing in on the insolent street-rat that dared oppose him.

"I have more power than Kalim could ever hope to possess. That pathetically naive child -"

"Owns your whole world. Your broken, fucked up caste system is maintained by those at the top, and it can be demolished by those at the top. And that child would have delivered every bit of social change you ever craved for on a fucking silver platter with a beaming smile on his face if you had asked for it when he trusted you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about -"

"No Jamil, you don't. You're still too blinded by your ridiculous need for what? 15 minutes of fame? Recognition? Validation from strangers who know nothing about you?"

"It's what I deserve!" he hisses. With every word, he steps into the prefect's personal space, backing them up until they have nowhere left to go. "That sniveling fool gets praised for being able to wipe his own ass, while I slave away keeping his dumbass alive and running this whole dorm and upholding my own grades and clublife and catering to his every fucking whim! So yes, Prefect, I do deserve to be worshipped and idolized just as much if not more than my master."

"YOU WERE!" They explode, forcing Jamil retreat lest he end up even more in their crossfire. It's the first time they've lost their composure, voice echoing off the kitchen tile. "You were idolized! This whole dorm never shut the fuck up about how good you are, how talented and disciplined and hardworking you are. And Kalim?"

"Stop." It's uttered threw gritted teeth. He can't bear to hear it anymore, not from anybody, but especially not from them.

"Kalim damn near worshipped the ground you walked on."

"Just stop."

"No. Because you're still not listening Jamil."

"Stop. Talking."

"You were number one in the eyes of everyone who mattered Jamil". It's said softly, whispered into the charged space between them. Damning words. Everything he's ever wanted to hear, and yet the straw that breaks the camel's back.

"GET OUT!"

It isn't until Jamil can't hear the prefect's receding footsteps that he thinks over their original question. "How's it feel?" Looking around the school kitchen (the only place that feels safe from the disdain of his dormmates on this entire campus), his eyes fall on the still dirty pots from the last time he was in here.

Jamil closes his eyes, and he can hear the Ramshackle residents laughing over the sounds of crockery clanging and pots bubbling. He can see it, the way they looked him in his eyes that first night, agreeing and trusting him before he could even think to use his unique magic. He can hear the smile in their voice over the din of the welcoming feast, and he can see them almost glowing under the moonlight.

Closing his eyes allows Jamil to recollect the way Kalim looked at the prefect.

He opens his eyes and still sees them backed into a corner, sees the self-righteous fire still burning behind their eyes. Eyes that stared him down. Despite knowing exactly what Jamil is capable of, Yuu still looked him in the eye, trusting him.

"How's it feel?" he ponders aloud. And slowly, a smile spreads on his face. "Freeing".

[theepisceswriter]

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐓 — Gojo Satoru

♡ Synopsis: You and Gojo go together real bad and he loves spoiling you.

♡ A/N: MUVA IS BACK !!! This is my Renaissance moments (crickets cause nobody probably remembers who I am nmplpw). After lying to y'all like my daddy and saying I'm gon come back every summer, I finally returned with a lil sumn sweet for yall and who else to signify coming back after a long time than Gojo? I hope y'all enjoy and I did good, feedback appreciated since this is basically me dusting off lmao. Love you!!

♡ WC: 1.6k

♡ TW: not proofread, she/her pronouns, afab body parts, penetrative sex, intimacy, 18+, and I believe that's really it lmk if I missed anything.

“Gojo?”

His ears instantly picked up on the soft sweet soundwave that was your voice, vital to his ears like bees are to flowers. The quietness and tenderness of your voice alone is enough to provoke that primate instinct in him to protect, provide, and nurture. From his relaxed position on the bed, he’s quick to toss the phone that previously had his attention on the dresser and divert his eyes in your direction to give you his undivided attention.

And trust that when his gaze finally fell on you that’s exactly what you had; his undivided attention.

“Well, aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes?” He cheekily grinned, head tilting to the side.

Your nude body that leaned against the bathroom frame was clad in a brown fur coat and nothing else but the precious jewels and gold that adorned your neck, wrists, and fingers. All courtesy of him, of course and you couldn’t be more thankful to have a man like Gojo in your life; One who spoiled, protected, and loved you like his life would end and become a waste if you left it. The love between the two of you was genuine and pure. You brought him out of a dark place mentally and he saved you from your humble beginnings. Without each other you’d both be lost and you guys knew that. Which is why everyday you showered each other in affection and love so neither of you would forget what this union meant to you.

“It’s the new one you bought a couple of days ago, do you like it?” Your fingernail lingered between your teeth as your eyes met his piercing gaze, his usual hue a shade darker as he drank you up in all your glory. You were so perfect just the way you were that you didn’t even need lingerie to catch his attention. How he hit the jackpot with you he has no idea, but he thanks himself everyday for every single choice that led to this moment.

“No.”

“No?” Soon you’re mirroring him, the same cheeky grin and head tilt occupying you too.

“I fucking love it.” He reiterates, motioning with his head for you to come to him.

You comply quickly as ever, gliding to his side in seconds giggles leaving your mouth in the process. You find yourself straddling his lap with both of his large calloused hands in the crevices that separated your hips from your thighs. You can feel his erection forming and pulsating against the thin fabric of his grey sweats. Which in turn pulsates against your bare clit the moment you’re settled on his lap. The small gasp that leaves your lips at the sensation leaves him almost in a drunken dazed, the effects you had on this man were far more powerful than any sorcery anybody could conjure up.

His love for you ran deep, but any lighthearted playful feeling that filled the room was now replaced with a thick yearning for lust. So close and passionate that you could quite literally feel the physical manifestation of your desire for each other in the form of an addicting body heat. Just as he was in a daze-like state over you, you were equally lusting after him. That’s what made this relationship so raw and lasting; everyday feels like the honeymoon stage when you’re both putting in the same effort.

“You drive me crazy you have no idea,” He muttered as he trailed his hands along your curves, his eyes following along closely watching the way your skin dimpled underneath his touch. He didn’t mind spending his family’s hard earned fortune on you if it meant he got moments like these, he’d go broke over you if he could just to show how devoted he was to you. 

“I think I have somewhat of an idea,” Your arms found solace around his neck which you then used as leverage to pull him closer to you. The motion caused the fur coat to fall beneath your shoulders exposing your breast to him in the most teasing peeks that brought him to a rock hard state. You made sure to tease him even further by pressing your chest as close as possible to him as you leaned in to steal a kiss, the cold metallic jewelry in your nipples touching his every other movement sending electricity through his chest.

His lips engulfed yours with a ferocity so high that he nearly had half of your chin in his mouth as well and you made sure to return that energy just as strong, swallowing his lips right back. You didn’t even realize you had begun to swirl your hips down on his erection until you felt the vibration of a deep guttural groan on Gojo’s end reverb against your lips.

God, you could stay like this for hours, days even, but there was nothing you wanted more in this moment then to have him deep inside of you. And there was nothing he wanted to do more in this moment then please the both of you.

“Gojo, I want you so bad, baby,” You were able to huff out once the two of you pulled back from each other. Both of your lips swollen and red, a true testament of your passion in this moment. 

“I’ll always give you everything you want from me, love,” His words came out in a murmur because the minute his lips detached from your lips they went straight to your neck, peppering your sensitive crevice with kisses. He teased your nipples with two quick kisses before he was lifting you and his hips up to pull his erect cock out of his sweats. Which now had a dark stained patch on the crotch area courtesy of you.

“Always so nice and wet for me, this pussy knows who it belongs to huh?” Before you could even elicit a response you were cut off by a moan. He wasted no time in dragging the swollen pink tip of his dick between your slit to collect your wetness as lubricant before slipping it inside of you with ease all the way to the base.

“My god!” You gasped out loudly, your walls immediately clenched around his cock but that didn’t stop your wetness from seeping out of you; creating a damp mixture with your cream at his base.

“This cock is all yours baby, don’t belong to nobody else but you,” He could barely get his words out in between grunts, just as turned on as you, if not more. His hands returned to your hips to lead the both of you to a rhythm as you rode him and lift you up just a little bit higher than you would naturally go so he could watch his cock slip in and out of you. Call him crazy but the sight was equivalent to fine art in his eyes, it was a marvelous sight that he adored to observe; how well the two of you fit each other. He was certain, just as sure as you were, that he’d never be able to be this connected and feel this much pleasure from anyone else during sex. Every single feeling he had for you uniquely belonged to you. He would never allow anyone else to have access to him the same way you do. This was a once in a lifetime connection and neither of you wanted it to end anytime soon.

“I love you so much.” He growls out through clenched teeth. That knot in his stomach was tightening and he could tell you were close to the edge too from how much stronger your walls began to clench around him.

This had to have been the type of pleasure Frank Ocean was talking about in Pink Matter, he thought.

“I-I love you- FUCK ! I love you more, Gojo.” You can barely get your breathless words out through pure bliss and pleasure. The only reason your eyes were still open was because you enjoyed watching your partner’s face twist and contort with each bounce you made. His clean and pale face now pink with lust and his signature white hair stuck against his forehead with sweat.

His hand travels to the back of your neck to connect you two for one last nasty kiss as you both creep up on your orgasms. This time tongue was involved and the kisses were bigger and sloppier than before, the two of you intoxicated with a dangerous mix of love and lust. Just the kissing alone would be enough to bring you to your orgasm quickly, but of course cocky Gojo had to collect some of the mixture of you guys’ saliva from the corner of his mouth and use it to rub your clit in circles.

“Cmon my pretty girl,” He mumbled against your lips, “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock for me, please. I need your slick covering me, please.” He practically begged.

And that was all it took for that overstimulating wave to crash over your body. A mixture of a moan and groan ripped from your lips and echoed throughout the room. Which led Gojo to join you in your high seconds later, your moans, knowing that he was producing, them doing the trick.

Immediately you fall off of him by his side and he’s quick to pull you into his side, grip tight as ever like he was scared he was going to lose you. You nuzzled into his side, neither of you caring to clean up just yet. Part of the reason being because you wanted to enjoy each others company and the other reason being because you were both very much still out of breath.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You recited in an almost sing song voice as you peppered his chest with kisses.

God bless anyone who’ll try to take him from you.

[symbioticsimplicity]

Based on an idea @thediktatortot and I workshopped in the tags of this post. Enjoy Tommy, Steve, Eddie and Billy being trapped in a room together!

Part 2! Part 3! Part 4! AO3 link!

                                                               *

The world was hell bent on making Steve Harrington suffer. He was sure of it, dead-set, knew it in his soul.

Why else would he have gotten trapped in the high school teacher’s lounge with Eddie Munson, Tommy Hagan, and Billy Hargrove of all people?

“--you didn’t skip gym every fuckin’ year then maybe you could have kept up, freak.” Tommy hissed at Eddie, his teeth gritted as he leaned against the door a demodog was currently trying to knock down.

“Oh yeah cause tackle fucking football really prepares you for the goddamn apocalypse!” Eddie snarled back, marring the effect a little by tripping over his feet as he brought over a chair to prop against the door.

“Shut the fuck up!” Billy growled at them both, “‘M tryin’ to fuckin’ focus!”

He had his back pressed against the door, and was probably the real reason that it hadn’t been caved in yet. Ever since he’d survived his face off with the mindflayer last summer, Billy had been different. Not just in such that he didn’t try to take a bite out of anyone who got too close to him half as often, but in that he could bench his fucking car. Steve knew, because he’d seen him do it one of the days he’d picked Max up for whatever dumb thing the kids were up to. 

“Oh sorry Lou, don’t let us get in the way of your ‘roid rage.” Tommy snitted back, unable to keep his mouth shut for love of life or limb.

“Tommy, for fucks sake shut your mouth for ten goddamn minutes and help me move this vending machine.” Steve cut Billy off before he could escalate what was quickly devolving into a miniaturized Lord of the Flies reenactment.

Tommy aimed an ugly look his way while Eddie snickered.

“King’s callin’ Hagan, be a good little pawn and attend him.” 

“Munson, get your ass over here, you’re helping too.” Steve turned his disapproving glare on Eddie too.

Tommy bowed dramatically, “Ladies first.”

“Age before beauty.” Eddie bowed back.

“Hurry. The. Fuck. UP!” Billy was losing ground by inches. 

Tommy and Eddie took their places on either side of Steve and the three of them started to push the vending machine, inch by screeching inch, across the floor and in front of the door. It filled almost the entire door frame. While it wouldn’t keep a pack of demodogs out for long, it would give them long enough to get their shit together again.

“Okay, so plan?” Steve looked between the three men he now found himself stuck with, “Anybody got a plan?”

“Munson’s the ‘Dungeon Master’, isn’t coming up with plans to beat monsters kind of your thing?” Tommy poked again, securing his place on the mental list Steve knew Eddie kept of people he would eat first in a crisis.

“What the fuck is your problem, douchebag?” Eddie turned his full attention on him, “We’re in the middle of some supernatural life or death bullshit, and your go-to is still ‘Shit on the Freak’? My fuckin’ plan is to trip you while we’re running so they slow down to eat your stupid jock ass.” 

Steve pressed his fists into his eyes, trying to force himself to breathe through the headache he could feel forming at the base of his skull. Of all the combinations of people…

“I was trying to be nice!” Tommy shouted back, and even with his eyes closed, Steve could see the way his hands were gesturing, “That stupid game you play with your weirdo friends has a lot to do with making shit up as you go along! That’s a skill!”

“....did you just admit to knowing what DND is about?” Eddie sounded more confused than angry, like all the fire just burnt right out of him.

“I-! No- I just…”

“Table that,” Billy cut in, “I’m not getting torn apart by another one of those fucking things because you two can’t focus for shit.”

“Who died and made you boss, Hargrove?” Tommy snapped reflexively.

“Your fucking Dad, Hagan. It’s why I’m fucking your mom now too.”

“ENOUGH!” Steve shouted in a voice that sounded so much like Richard Harrington he hated himself a little bit for it, “None of us like each other, we all know that, it’s whatever, old news! But I’m pretty sure none of us want to die, either. You two know better than anyone that this shit is not a game.” 

Steve pointed a finger at Billy and Eddie each in turn before turning his attention on Tommy. 

He was scared, of course he was. Tommy had always used his sharp tongue to cover up his weaknesses, and right now he had to have been feeling about two feet tall and made of tissue paper. Steve had stopped flinching about bodies years ago, but Tommy hadn’t been by his side for that change either. 

So he tried to make himself sound calm, familiar, like they were just talking like they used to when they were dumb little boys sharing secrets during the secret hours of the night where nothing had to mean more than it meant. 

“I know it’s scary as hell, but we’re not going to let you die, Tommy. No one here is dying, not tonight. We’re all on the same team here, and that means we’re going to look out for each other. Okay?”

He held Tommy’s eyes for a moment more, before letting his attention move to Billy, then Eddie in turn.

Eddie was the first to respond, because of course he was.

“Alright, fine. For one night only, coming to an amphitheater near you, the freakiest Friday you’ve ever fucking seen, Off Brand Motley Crue!” Eddie imitated the distant cheering of a crowd and to Steve’s surprise Billy fucking snorted.

He shoved Eddie’s shoulder almost affectionately, muttering “You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Munson.” 

Tommy was still staring at Steve when he looked back at him. There was so much going on in the valley between his eyebrows, Steve could practically hear him thinking.

“Spit it out, Tommy.” Steve sighed while Eddie and Billy wandered off to see if they could scavenge anything of use.

“Is this why you stopped talking to me?” He asked with no preamble.

Fifteen different responses flashed through Steve’s head, all in varying degrees of bitchiness. His patience was more like a roulette wheel than a chord close to snapping at this point. There was every chance he’d say something stupid by sheer chance.

“Kind of?” He shrugged, relieved he’d started off neutral at least, “Some of it, I guess.”

“But not the big part.” Tommy laughs humorlessly, filling in the gaps between what Steve means and what he says as effortlessly as he ever did, “Well shit. Here I was telling myself my best friend ditched me to save me from some crazy horrible death or some shit.”

He laughed again, but the sound was as cruel as it was watery.

“That’s not-- you know that’s not fucking fair Tommy!” Steve could feel his expression folding in on itself.

“Not fair? So you’re saying you didn’t completely bail on me instead of being like ‘Huh we’re kinda assholes and I don’t really like that maybe we should work on that’ like a normal fucking friend would?” Tommy snapped. 

“If you’d said you just wanted to yell at him yourself, I would have ceded the floor to you without a fight, Harrington.” Eddie weighed in from across the room.

“Shut up!” Steve and Tommy chorused together, causing Eddie to raise his hands in surrender with a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

He turned back to Billy, the blonde rolling his eyes as he tore through a drawer full of seasoning packets.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Steve.” Tommy said firmly, his expression looking far more present and alert than Steve was used to, like he’d come out of whatever place he sent himself when there were other people around, “I know you hated what we were like. You’re a nice guy, you always have been. Even though you’re also a total bitch sometimes.”

Steve almost laughed, but the noise caught in his throat instead.

“Yeah well maybe I didn’t think about it. Maybe I was too caught up in needing to change that I told myself I had to get rid of everything to do it.” Steve clenched his jaw, remembering how hard everything had been back then, how alone he’d felt in the canyon between who he was and who he wanted to be.

“I would have changed with you.” Tommy said to his shoes instead of to Steve, “You know. It’s never been about-- about popularity. It’s always been about making you happy.”

The admission caught him like a blow to the stomach. He felt his eyes tearing up and pressed his thumb and forefinger into the bridge of his nose.

“I think near-death experiences with monsters from other dimensions are pretty good catalysts for second chances.” Steve said, when he felt like he could without his voice breaking on him.

“Catalysts?” Tommy raised an eyebrow, “You spend a couple years around a group of nerds and suddenly you start using the big words?”

It’s an insult but it’s good natured, it’s barbed, but like one of those foam prop spiked bats they sell for Halloween. It’s familiar, and it’s easy, and God has Steve missed bantering with someone who knows how to tease him without actually hurting his feelings.

“Pretty face isn’t gonna get me by my whole life.” Steve replied, a smile sneaking onto his lips as a matching smile spans Tommy’s.

Tommy claps him on the shoulder, “Damn straight, once you hit forty that hair is gonna move onto your back and then you’re screwed.”

Steve laughed, feeling relieved by the resolution of something he hadn’t been aware was still bothering him.

“Yeah, yeah, you can’t say that like your skin isn’t gonna melt like your uncle Fred’s did when you hit thirty.”

“Don’t you dare bring Uncle Fred into this!”

                                                             *

To Steve surprise, the demodogs didn’t come crashing through the vending machine door. After about an hour, they stopped trying to get through entirely. 

They thought for a moment that they’d left, but when Billy started pushing the vending machine aside to check, the growling started back up and he quickly moved it back.

“They’re keeping us pinned down.” Eddie muttered around his thumb where he was nervously biting at the skin, “Out of the way.”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, trying not to let himself think through all the reasons that could be, “Split the party, classic.”

“So you do listen when I talk to you about DND.” Eddie beamed, “Knew it. Closet nerd.”

Billy muttered something that vaguely sounded like ‘closet something’ but he was standing on Steve’s bad side and he couldn’t really be sure. 

Steve rolled his eyes, “You try having six kids and a really hyper metalhead talking your ear off about the same thing all the time. See how much you remember.”

“Jock to nerd pipeline not withstanding, you know why splitting the party is a problem, right?” Eddie continued stubbornly on.

“We’re most of their muscle.” Billy answered instead, “Take us out or pin us down, the rest of them are easier to take out.”

“Ten XP to California.” Eddie clapped.

“So you think they’re trying to keep us out of something?” Tommy asked, surprisingly mindful of his tone.

Eddie nodded, gnawing at his nail again, “We need another way out.”

“Not a lot of options.” Steve glanced around quickly, his leg starting to bounce.

“Pretty much just the front door.” Billy agreed.

“So we need a battle plan.” Tommy summarized, “Okay, right. Munson, what are you good at?”

Eddie frowned and Tommy threw his hands into the air.

“I’m not trying to start shit, I’m asking so we can figure out where the fuck to put you. Hargrove is a one man demolition team, Steve has that bat and he’s really good at taking a punch, I’m good at defence and I can lift a lot more than those things, so what’s your deal?”

Eddie thought for a second, and Steve honestly couldn’t tell if he was considering his answer or if he was pausing for dramatic effect.

“Well,” He started eventually, “I’m good with a shield, and I’m pretty strong too. Don’t look like it, but I can manhandle Stevie here pretty easily.”

Tommy shot him a look that he pointedly ignored. There was no way he was explaining any of that right now, or ever if he had the choice. 

“Steve is easy to manhandle. Barely even fights it.” Billy replied, “That’s not a good gauge of strength.”

“You could rip an airplane in half, you’re not a good gauge of strength.” Eddie gesticulated in Billy’s general direction.

“I fought him way before that.”

“He’s right though.” Tommy shrugged, “Steve never fights being manhandled.”

Eddie scoffed and Steve was pretty sure he was going to choke to death on embarrassment long before the demodogs ever got him.

“Anyway, back on track, guys. You thinking Billy as the spearhead, you and Eddie flanking and me taking up the rear?” Steve tried to guide the conversation back to safer ground before they did something stupid like bond over having all manhandled him at some point.

“Yeah.” Tommy nodded, “Exactly.”

“That’s what I would have said.” Billy shrugged.

“Jock mindmeld.” Eddie shuddered, “Normally, a sign that conformity is alive and well, but right now? Might just save a life. I hate to say it boys, but sportsball might just save the day this time.”

“I’m telling everyone you said that.” Tommy grinned.

“That tripping you plan can still be enacted.” 

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU PT. 1

PART 1: CHAOS

summary: she saw him for who he truly was, and that’s all he never wanted

pairing: Rafe Cameron x black!reader/OC

AN: no use of YN. Rafe isn’t a murdering psychopath

________________________________________________🖊️

GENESIS HATED ALCOHOL AND ANYTHING DRUG RELATED. It was never her thing, vowing to never pick up a cup or abuse anything because she just genuinely hated the thought of it. So she opted for weed, spending part of her weekly allowance to buy some. She always bought enough weed to last her until she ran out, which was always around a week. She sometimes shared with her friends too which was another reason why she ran so quick, but she never minded. They were her friends after all.

Her family was known around OBX to have “old money” as people would say. she was a kook, born and raised Atlanta, Georgia. They had just moved to Outer Banks around 3 years ago and she immediately started community college. Her family owned a few businesses in outer banks as well as a few other places across the states. Her parents also operated and owned The island Club. She was an african american, spanish speaking trust fund baby who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth from the day she was born. But she never looked at herself as that. She was just a girl from the rich side of the water who never had problems with anyone, and smoked weed everyday with her friends. Very few kooks got accepted by pogues. Sarah and Genesis were fortunate of the few. Pogue life made Genesis look at where she came from as boring. She loved her parents, and she always thanked them for giving her and her 3 year old sister a life of privilege, but she knew there was more to life than just putting up a show for a bunch of snobby rich people who think that people less than them are nothing short of insignificant. Her friends made life worth living, bonding over their disdain for kooks and their love for weed.

Genesis was minding her business, smoking a wood she had rolled up with her friends at a keggar in the boneyard the first time she was noticed by rafe, his family basically had owned figure 8. Her parents knew where she was and allowed her to go as long as she came back at a reasonable time. She wore a simple outfit that worked with her aesthetic. He had been wearing a collar shirt with the first half of the buttons loose, mindlessly listening to his friend Topper talk his head off, probably about nothing. The pair locked eyes, him never taking his eyes off her of as he took a sip of his drink. High as hell, Genesis wrote it off as her imagining things. No way rafe was staring at her. They never had any interaction before because her and sarah had JUST started hanging out and she had never been over her house. Rafe staring was something she wasn’t use too, especially when he wouldn’t stop looking so shamelessly. She hadn’t heard good things about him. Her friends told her about the things him, Topper and Kelce would do to them. Nonetheless, she never judged anybody because that just wasn’t the type of person she is. She shook the thought of her outta her head and focused on having a good time with her friends. She was always told to stay away from Rafe Cameron, because he’ll break your heart, fuck you and leave, never to talk to you again.

“I’m so high right now, how many woods has it been?” Genesis asked, leaning against JJ, as he passed her the wood. He shrugged his shoulders, embracing her as she leaned into him. If it were any other person, they would’ve gotten pushed off immediately, but Genesis was soft, she had a delicate aura to her, but not too much to make her seem weak. She got active a few times in defense of her friends because of kooks picking with them. JJ made a mental note to himself to never get her angry, wanting to avoid the other end of her rage.

There was a community college in town that Genesis went to, opting to finish there to get a nursing degree before heading to nursing school. It had been her passion to help others since she was a little kid. Since community colleges typically last for two years, she can officially say she was going into her last year. Now she wanted to spend the summer with her friends before her life was consumed of studying and, senior seminars.

“That’s the 4th one you’ve rolled up and we’ve only been here an hour Ge.” Sarah told her friend, watching in slight shock as the older girl before her opened her small backpack and pulled out a huge bag of weed and another backwood. She smiled at Sarah as she continued to roll another one, an even thicker one this time with 3x the weed. Her fresh french tips were used as an aid to keep the weed in tact. She threw her bohemian braids over her shoulder and got to work as her friends watched

“Woahhh, how much are you planning on smoking?” John B asked, leaning up from the log he was leaning on, Sarah no longer leaning on him as she leaned up too. Genesis smiled, knowing once she light it her friends will smoke again. She didn’t say anything, only passed the blunt to him as a way to shut him up. He happily obliged and took a long drag from the wood.

“I’m loving you all over again. You always have the best dope.” JJ sighed dramatically, in a playful manner, putting his hand over his heart as he slumped into her embrace, watching as she pulled the smoke through her nose and blew it back out through her mouth. Genesis chuckled and pushed his head away playfully, not paying any mind to his words because that’s how their relationship was; playful, but she knew he looked at her as a sister as she looked at him as a brother.

While everyone bickered in their small group, Genesis’ eyes fell upon the blond haired boy just feet away from her, leaning on a large bark just in the other side of the boneyard, Topper now drowned out completely as they locked eyes one again. She sent him a small smile, watching as sent he one back with a small wave. Genesis was the first to look away, her chest beating fast. She knew better, and she wasn’t going to let herself go down that hole.

“Hey hey… eyes over here. He’s a menace! I wouldn’t get caught up with him if I were you.” Kie voiced, playfully snapping her fingers in front of Genesis’ face, taking her out of her trance. She took one last look at Rafe, before turning to Kie, luckily a couple beside him were arguing so she opted to use that as an excuse. Everyone knew Genesis was never the type to listen to orders anyway.

“He doesn’t seem that bad…” She mumbled, putting the roach to the last to finished blunts in a small bag in her purse. She had enough of rolling, and smoking for tonight. She was high enough to say she was high. Pope nudged her and gave her a smile once she looked at him, to watch she returned.

“Anybody mind getting me some more beer?” A slightly drunk JJ asked, as he flimsily held up his hand, holding his cup. Genesis sighed and snatched the cup outta his hand, dreading walking over to the keggar, where Rafe and his posse were hanging out at. Part of her agreeing to get JJ more beer was because so Rafe would notice her, but she made sure not to make it obvious. Another reason was because she just knew nobody else was going to do it and she couldn’t say no to JJ at times, but she was going to make sure this was his last cup.

She took a deep breathe and start making her way to where the beer was, ignoring the thank you’s and cheers from JJ as she moved further and further away from the group. As she looked around, she noticed that more and more people were starting to show up, and that always lead to something bad because someone always had to start something first. Right now her focus was getting her drunk friend more booze and going back to her designated spot.

Once she made, she started to work on filling the cup, rafe just a few feet away from her. He had taken his eyes off her a while ago, going back to his own world of friends. He hadn’t noticed her again until she came by that keggar to get something to drink. Before he knew it, his legs were carrying him over there, his eyes never leaving the unknown goddess before him, trying to get her before she walked away. He watched as she waited patiently for the beer to come out, as it was almost gone. She looked around mindlessly before her eyes landed on Rafe, them going wide as she watched him approach her with a undefined smile on his face. She didn’t know him like that so she wasn’t sure what the smile meant. She tried her best to keep her composure as he gotten closer, eventually he was barely an arms length away from her, wanting to be close but not too close to where it would scare her.

“Need some help with that?” She heard a voice behind her, in the midst of her struggle to tilt that large silver contain because of its contents almost being empty. She turned around to find Rafe Cameron, almost towering over her, with a smirk on his face. He was handsome no doubt, and he knew it too. It was something he always used to his advantage. She tried not to stare so hard but ultimately failed once she seen the smirk on his face grow.

“Oh—uh yea, please. It’s kinda heavy and I hate the smell of beer on my fingers.” She spoke nervously, stepping back and handing him the cup so that he can finish filling the cup of for her.

“Not much of a drinker huh princess?” Rafe asked, finishing up the cup and handing it to her. She took it, giving him a small thank you before answering his question. He gaze was strong, filled with intent, but she didn’t k ow which kind of intent. She knows her friends will come looking for trouble once they find out the two of them are talking, despite her conversing with someone with the same amount of wealth as her, but she was always told she was a pogue at heart, despite her status economically.

“Oh i don’t drink. Don’t really enjoy the after effects. I’ll stick to the weed.” She chuckled, shivering. As the sun started to set, it started to get chillier and now she wished she had brought an extra jacket, but Rafe noticed she was cold and quickly engulfed her in a spare jacket he brought. People around them watched the exchange, even her friends, who were whispered amongst themselves. She knew it was only a matter of time before one of them got fed up, and marched over to where they were.

Genesis thanked him for the jacket as she put her arms in, holding the cup of beer in each hand as she put the other in the jacket sleeves. He was nice, that was the first thing that took her by surprise. They he quickly offered up his jacket when she showed even the smallest bit of her being cold. Something was telling her to hurry and go back to her friends before they come and start trouble, but another part of her wanted to stay.

“I’m Rafe. Rafe Cameron.” He introduced, holding a hand out for her to shake. He had a ring on his pinky finger, as she examined it, wanting to make sure it wasn’t a joke. Hesitantly, she took his hand in her, surprised by the softness of it but she didn’t show it. Rafe gave a firm grip on her hand, never once breaking eye contact until they both shook. She maintained eye contact, letting him know she wasn’t shy by any means. He had a hefty reputation on the island, whether that he girls, his family, or just him acting like a complete asshole to pogues.

If he didn’t make it obvious before, it damn sure was now. He wanted her, in every way possible. He was a patient man, never one to push himself upon a girl. He wanted her to come to him willingly, but that doesn’t mean he was gonna stop popping up. His mind was clouded with cocaine, and it was taking everything in him not to sneak off to do another line, but he knew she didn’t like that. He knew her before she knew him. Genesis was a closed off female, but never shied away having a good time. She always hung out with those god awful pogues just like Sarah but he wasn’t in the liberty to say anything. He knew her disdain for alcohol and drugs, Sarah spoke about her a lot, always good things. She was rare, and he wanted to be part of her life, but he came with baggage, heavy baggage. He didn’t want to run anybody away.

“Genesis St. James.” She responded, smiling at him. Rafe gave her a cheeky smile. He knew exactly who she was. He had heard about her family, probably the wealthiest family in Figure 8. She was one to hang out with Pogue’s like his sister Sarah so he never saw her. She was just as beautiful as he thought she was. Skin like no other, body like no other. Face like no other. It almost made him wonder what else was like no other.

Before he could respond, John B, and JJ were all marching towards the pair. Topper and Kelce, who were just in the back ground, immediately moved up in Defense of the claimed “Kook King”. Genesis turned around and ran towards her friends, standing in front of the to try and stop them but as they moved foward, she moved back with them, trying not to get them to go up to the three behind her. She glanced behind her and watched as Rafe smirked, crossing his arms, waiting for them.

“Pope, stop them!!!” She pleaded as she ran towards the little area she once were. Pope shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to do because he wasn’t a person to pick fights nor try and stop them. Once John B and JJ made their mind on something, that was it. “We were just talking!”

“You know what they say, Gotta protect our own.” He replied with a cheeky smile , not taking his eyes off the scene in front of him. She glared at him turning around to run to the scene.

Everyone had noticed now. Pogue vs Kook. Everyone knew how it was between the boys but nobody dared to stop them. She frantically ran back over to the boys, stepping in the middle of them. trying to push John B and JJ back but it didn’t work as they stood their ground, unmoving. She looked around, watching in desperation as everyone had their eyes on the train wreck that was about to unfold in front of their eyes.

“Please don’t do this! We were just talking! He didn’t do anything! You don’t even gotta do all this shit. Y’all stay causing a fucking SCENE!” She snapped, looking at her friends. Everyone was looking at them, waiting for the next move. If anybody made the first punch, the entire boneyard is going to be a shit show. Her chest was heaving up and down quickly, trying to regulate her breathing.

“You better listen to the pretty lady. Isn’t it past your bed time right now pogue?”

Rafe’s words was all it took. JJ pushed Genesis out of the way and landed a heavy punch on his face, making her fall on a sharp piece of wood and cut her arm. She looked down in shock as her hand was now covered in blood, and the chaos around her started. They were throwing punches left and right, as everyone cheered for both sides. Rafe watched as she cut herself, catching him off guard for a second which gave JJ the perfect opportunity to sucker punch him in the face.

Genesis marched over to Pope, yanking him by his shirt, blood nearly dripping down here arm at this point but the adrenaline was rushing thru her so she didn’t feel a thing. Her eyes were fierce and filled with rage.

“Go stop the fight! Now!!” She gritted angrily, tightening her grip on his shirt. With wide eyes, Pope frantically nodded his head, rushing over there once he was let go as Kie and Sarah tended to the wound on Genesis’ arm. The blood wouldn’t stop, so Sarah ripped the bottom of her shirt and tied it around the hole, to keep more blood from coming out. She watched as pope grabbed JJ and pushed him back, and fought between Topper and John B to separate the two angry boys.

As the fight died down, everyone started to leave, Genesis looked around for Rafe, wanting to say sorry on her friends behalf since she knew they weren’t going to do it. Both John B and JJ walked back over with scratches and messed up clothes along with bruises and cut up legs. She wanted to punch them so bad right now, but the pain in her arm was starting to show up and now all she wanted to do was go home and lay down. She knew if she didn’t go to see her mom (who was a doctor luckily), she was going to pass out.

John B was the first to approach, about to open his mouth but a tired Genesis stopped him with her arm that wasn’t injured, her hand quickly creating space between them. The boneyard now almost empty, she looked past his shoulder as she watched Topper and Kelce help Rafe back to the car they came in, Rafe making sure to take another look at her. She gave him an apologetic smile and turned her attention towards her friend. She was barely able to get a conversation out of him before they started becoming over protective.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go across BOTH OF YALL HEADS!”

Both John B and JJ groaned, moving their faces away from Genesis. Her words falling dead in their ears.

“Of all the people to talk to, Rafe, really Ge, him? You’re even wearing his fucking jacket! God!” JJ spat, glaring at the all black ranger rover that just pulled off. Genesis looked down and noticed she very much still had on his jacket. She made a mental note to give it to him once she saw him again. That gave her an excuse to go and see him at Tannyhill.

“She got hurt because of you JJ. You pushed her. Stop being an ass for once and think about your friend who you injured because your an egotistical asshole.” Kie snapped. She didn’t like the eldest Cameron sibling either, but no matter how much she didn’t want Genesis talking to him. She was grown, and Genesis got hurt because of her two other childish ass best friends. That was her main focus as of right now.

“Hey, we didn’t mean for you to get hurt. Honestly when we seen him shake your hand we kinda flipped, but we’re sorry.” John B apologized, nudging a quiet JJ as he started off at the beach with a glare on his face, mumbling a small “sorry”. They both were bruised, cuts all over their faces, sand in their hair.

Genesis sighed for the thousandth time that night, her high officially gone away, “It’s fine, I’m about to head home. I’ll see you guys later.”

She hugged everyone, John B and JJ included, giving JJ a small kiss on a cheek as a way of saying he was forgiven. He smiled at her, giving her hand a small squeeze before letting go. She knew she couldn’t stay mad for long, JJ was only doing what he felt was right, and she couldn’t fault him for trying to protect her. Genesis walked towards her car, hopping in and drove the distance home in silence. Rafe weighed heavy on her mind, and she never got a change to apologize properly on her friends behalf, but that was a conversation for another day.

_________________________________________________🖊️

AN: how was the first chapter? It sort of has a slow burn but I promise they get better as the chapters go on.

[kumkaniudaku]

Champion

It's been a minute, ain't it? Trying to get back in the groove. Please, accept this peace offering.

In the dead of night, the backyard had become a raucous arena and mental prison all at once.

Moonlight and stars provided just enough light to illuminate the back half of the only basketball court in the neighborhood with someone crazy enough to put up shots hours before the sun would rise. Jayson’s face and hair caught a glow as he put up a half-hearted jump shot that loudly clunked off the back iron. He cursed to himself before trotting to retrieve the basketball. 

He was in an unimaginable slump. One tough game became three in a row then a full two weeks of subpar shooting numbers and growing frustration. Blaming his misfortune on a nagging wrist injury would make sense, but he didn’t want the sympathy. He wanted the win.

Across the short path leading to the house, you watched him talk his way through a reverse layup that kissed the rim but didn’t fall. 

“Fuck!” 

The ball was no match for his anger, receiving a hard bounce against the court before he regained control and tapped it against his forehead several times. 

You stopped short of the metal gate and cleared your throat to announce your presence. “You know you have an HOA right? Those quiet hour fines are steep.” 

“I’ll pay it. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He answered with his back turned to put up another missed shot. In frustration, he slapped the ball across the court before finally facing your sympathetic expression. He sighed. “I woke you up?” 

“No. I had a bad dream and came out for some air.” 

Jayson accepted your partial truth with a nod. He was too tired to press for more answers. The world was on his shoulders. The last thing he had energy for was extraneous conversation.

Taking a deep breath, he carefully lowered his long body to the ground. His knees rose just enough to support his elbows and heavy head in his hands. You watched him for a few extra moments before gently pushing open the gate to join him at center court. 

“It’s too cold for the future Finals MVP to be hooping in a tanktop. Here. ” Your arm extended to pass Jayson a sweatshirt in hopes that he’d accept your peace offering. He accepted with no protest, his eyes never looking away from some distant spot in the night.

You let him sulk without interrupting the quiet. A few years and a couple of fiery disagreements had taught you a valuable lesson in letting him sort his feelings before stepping in with advice.

Several minutes of silence passed before finally he scoffed to himself and looked up to the sky.  

“I give this shit everything I got. My heart, my body. Fuckin’ tears! None of this shit is working right now.” 

“Maybe you’re thinking too hard?”

“I just wanna fuckin’ win. You know that more than anybody. I’m fighting through this shit with my wrist, taking in all the feedback while trying to block all the bullshit and I’m hitting a brick wall every time I turn around. I don’t understand why I’m doing all this if, at the end of the day, I feel like I’m being blocked from what I know I deserve.”

You watched him quietly rub a tender spot at the base of his thumb before his eyes met yours. He was searching for answers and comfort or at least something to make sense of his personal hell.

“So, give up.”

Your matter-of-fact response made him snap his head in your direction. “What?”

“Give up. If it’s giving you this much grief and you aren’t feeling up to the challenge, give up. I won’t hold it against you.” 

“Man, you know I’m not doing that. I just…I don’t know. I needed to vent or something. I’m trying.”

“Aren’t we all,” you answered sympathetically. “But we do what we gotta do to get through the hard parts for what we love, right?” 

“Yeah, but does it have to be this hard?” 

“Would it be worth it if it wasn’t?” 

A short chuckle filled the air before he diverted his eyes to a spot beyond the court. 

“You can’t do the whole therapy thing for loved ones, remember? Get out my head before I call your dean.” 

“Okay! Fair enough. Can I at least say that I’m proud of you?”

Jayson finally broke eye contact with the distance to look in your eyes, prompting you to scoot closer to him until your bodies were touching. He allowed you to hook your arm in his and rest your weight against his forearm before he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

“This shit is tough,” you continued. “The late nights and long trips. The wear and tear on your body. Having to be somebody’s something at all times. Even the strongest person in the world would be exhausted. But you’re doing it. And a really fuckin’ good job at that. I’m proud of you. We’re all proud of you.” 

“Thank you.” His short sentence fell from his lips in a near whisper as he sat with your words. 

“But, when you’re at work, just be Jayson. Because, respectfully, nobody out there can touch you on your worst day. Except me, but that’s a different conversation.” 

Your misplaced confidence coaxed a loud laugh from Jayson that grew once you stood to take a defensive stance in front of him. 

“Man, what are you doing,” he asked, still amused by the sheer absurdity of you attempting to guard him.

“Oh, I’m funny to you? Check ball.” 

“Nah, go inside. You just got your nails done.” 

“So what! My girl makes house calls. Check ball, my boy. Hurry up before I get mad.” 

Jayson studied you for a second with a fond smile before taking the short jog across the court to retrieve his best friend and worst enemy. When he returned, you were still in a full-out defensive stance and ready to take on the challenge of guarding a man acclaimed as one of the best in his profession. 

He started his path toward the basket from half-court with slow dribbles and uncontrollable laughter while you swiped at the ball. 

“C’mon, now. I don’t want you to get hurt. You made your point.” 

“That’s crazy. I got a point but you don’t have no points. Does that make me the best player in the world or…?” 

“Woooow.”

A competitive fire burned behind his eyes as he sized you up and planned his next move. For a moment, you were able to shuffle your feet just enough to keep up with his probing attack. It didn’t take long for Jayson to sense a shift in your intensity and capitalize on your lack of speed. 

One quick step drove left you slightly off balance, giving him enough space to put up a stepback three that caused the net to make a loud pop once the ball went through. 

“JT FOR THREEEEEEE!” 

He held his shooting hand in the air for an extra second with his eyes closed to soak in your impression of the in-arena announcement. It’d been a while since he’d heard those words. 

When he finally turned back to look at you, he caught your knowing smile as you folded your arms across your chest in preparation for the inevitable. 

“Just, like, 30 minutes. I promise. You can time me!” 

“Mhmm. Make sure you take a shower before you get back in bed.” 

“You gone be up when I get in?” 

His question came with raised eyebrows and a few steps forward to wrap you in a sweaty hug. You relished the tickle of his beard against your neck between quick kisses before playfully pushing him away. 

“Nuh uh. Lock in. I’ll still be here when the work is done.” 

“Can I hold you to that?” 

“You know I’m good for it.” 

A cheeky wink initiated your shared handshake and signaled that your promise was sealed no matter what. Before he could lull you back into a hug and prolong the moment, a stiff breeze woke all six of your senses and forced a loud shriek in response. 

“Oh hell no. I’ll be rooting for you from the house. Keep shooting!”

Jayson watched you nearly sprint across the backyard with the ball tucked under his arm and a smile so goofy it’d be embarrassing if his friends caught him. Not willing to see you go just yet, he cupped his hands around his mouth to bid you a final good night. 

“THANKS, COACH! I LOVE YOU!”

Stopping at the back door, you returned the gesture. “I LOVE YOU! JVP! JVP! JVP!”

“THAT AIN’T IT! TRY AGAIN.”

“JUST KEEP REPEATING IT. IT’LL WORK, I PROMISE!” 

Once you were inside, silence blanketed the backyard again. This time, instead of racing thoughts, Jayson found a stillness as he bounced the ball between his legs. One dribble turned into another and another until he completed a crossover and midrange shot. Shot after shot hit the bottom of the net with crisp snaps.

When his legs grew exhausted, he stepped up to the free-throw line to complete his impromptu workout. 

He took a few deep breaths and focused his eyes on the rim with a soft chant on replay under his breath. 

-----------------------------

“This is absolutely incredible. When it looked like his team was on the brink of another Game 7, Jayson Tatum took over the game and delivered the Boston Celtics their first NBA Championship since 2008. The Larry O’Brien trophy is back in Beantown.”

“He’s the future of the league. One of the best, if not THE best small forward in the NBA right now.” 

“He's not the future, Jeff. He's the right here and now. Humbly he’s one of the best players in the world. Mama, there goes that man.”

Green and white confetti rained down from the rafters, completely covering fans celebrating in the stands. Players on the court threw themselves onto one another to share the euphoria of the moment. Six games and four hard-fought quarters had led them to the ultimate goal.  

Jayson stood at center court with his arms stretched and head tilted to the sky while he screamed at nothing in particular. His head felt light with pure excitement and fragmented replays of the last 48 minutes. 

Finally, he’d completed the mission. 

As reality began to rush through his blood, his eyes frantically searched for familiar faces in the crowd rushing toward him. The full breadth of excitement couldn’t be released until the ones he cherished most were within arms reach. He ignored every instance of his name being called in favor of pushing through the bodies littered across the space. 

His family greeted him first, led by his mother beaming with pride. You quietly stood to the side for an up-close view of the small celebration. Tears and laughter became muffled in the loud environment but the love was unmistakable. 

When he finally directed his attention in your direction, a rush of heat made your ears and arms tingle. Sudden shyness made you laugh nervously and tug at your jersey during his short journey to where you stood. 

Jokingly, he leaned down and rubbed his sweaty forehead against yours. 

“You did it,” you gushed. “You fuckin’ did it.” 

“JVP,” he questioned with a silly smile.

“Oh, don’t make me do it. Because you know I’ll do it.” 

Jayson’s laughter bellowed deep before he threw his head back for another triumphant scream. His joy felt like permission for others to join with no restrictions.

Stepping back, you accepted the invitation and began your new favorite chant. Participation started with a slow build. Others joined one by one then in small groups until the buzz had spread to the nosebleeds. 

Standing in the center of it all, Jayson took a slow look at all the faces around him with pride swelling in his chest. 

He was over the hump. Across the finish line. Atop the proverbial mountain.

A champion at last.

[housano]

Housano's LIVE-A-HALF-ASSED Summaries presents: Pubraseer and the Infinite Radness Final Part: Being Human

We wake up in pure darkess, but comment on how it feels nice. We then hear Orbiter's voice and opens up his screen allowing us to see the view of Earth, the Moon and the Archimedes. We lost consciousness shortly after the fight concluded and Orbiter placed us inside his suit until we awoke. He then gets into the memories he has buckle up kiddos it's going to be another bumpy fucking ride

In the flashback, we hear an individual recording their final thoughts inside Orbiter as their oxygen supply is running low. They recount how they were involved in an intergalactic war as a spacewalker and was attacked by enemy troops having their tether broke and has been drifting off into space. All mobility and communication devices have been damaged and they accepted they will die. They ask Orbiter to end the mental health program which turns off the Mountain view and returns to the infinite vastness of the sea of stars. They comment how beautiful it is, and how they wish they could have been an astronauts: travel space, explore new planets, go on adventures. As their oxygen begins to reach its end, they admit being scared but will face it head on. They make a final request for Orbiter to save their memories and consciousness into his free memory. However, there is not enough memory or time for his full consciousness to be transferred so they ensure that Orbiter will fulfill their wish and see the stars. They remove themselves from the suit, mouth the name "Orbiter" and with their last bit of strength push Orbiter away before he shuts down.

Orbiter says he is sad even though he doesn't know anything about that person but he still feels profoundly sad and empty. He still feels the need to help that person and reveals the Orbiter is the name of the suit which is why everyone calls him that. He wonders if the sadness he felts was because he couldn't save that individual, but he realizes he wants to fulfill that person's wish and more, than anything, he wants to be human. We assure him, despite his mechanical nature, the fact he cares, wants to help makes him just as human and he needs to be loved (just like anybody else does). This causes him to start crying and hug himself to hug MC.

Have a tissue to wipe away your tears

Pubra, Gasei and Youtaro finally catch up with Orbiter and are relieved to find out that MC is with Orbiter. Apparently everyone scattered after the boss died. As a reward for their victory, the moon is bathed in a beautiful blue light from all the Ether particles being released. When we return to the colony, Youtaro and Gaisei part ways as it would not be wise for villains to be at a gathering of heroes. After Askashi freaks out on disappearing, Huckle thanks Pubra-chan for protecting us, which Pubra said it was a team effort that they were all successful.

Crowne complements Orbiter on his craftsmanship of his spaceship and if he wants advice he can always come to her. Orbiter then goes to Flammei and Andrew and apologizes for all the trouble he caused (including the false terrorist report). He admits that he won't run from the truth anymore and that he has his own dream now: to be a hero and fight alongside all of us. Flammei and Andrew apologize for not being considerate of his feelings and promise to help make his dreams come true.

Then we get to Denebora, whom confirmed all the unconscious examiners' memories were intact though the exam was cancelled, the ship he spent all his money on was destroyed by the kaibutsu, and he is stuck on the colony unable to work as a bounty hunter (he really is the Barguest of Live a Hero). Flammei interjects and offers him a job as well as accomodations to help with the cleanup and restoring everything. Additionally, Hydoor, Subaru and Pubra all agreed to write him recommendations for the exemplary and excellent actions he showed as a hero. The stream of good news leaves poor Denebora completely shocked (I honestly don't blame him).

We end the celebratory events back on Earth with the people admiring the beautiful blue moon.

Pubraseer and Infinite Radness-END

[imashoe69420]

what about raph with a reader who is kinda like him and is willing to get themself hurt in order to protect raph/his brothers/really anybody? and what would he do if the reader took a bad hit and when they woke up raph was chewing them out but also thankful because they were protecting him or one of his brothers???? idk this just popped into my brain

I love these types of dynamics 😩

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stubborn

Rise!Raph X GN!Reader

Genre: Angst

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Relationship: Ambiguous

Timeline: Post-Movie

Warnings ⚠️: Mild Language, Mentions of Death

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

===================================

Stubborn.

That was the one word many would use to describe (Y/N).

Of course, the word for them to a T.

(Y/N) hated rules and policies and people telling them what to do. Growing up with only brothers made their rebellion and disliking for authority all that much greater. Every time they’d come home from playing with the neighborhood kids, some part of her body would be bruised or scratched or something of the sort.

Their mother would always scold them saying that roughhousing isn’t okay if they end up injured every time, but that was (Y/N)’s favorite part.

Getting hit wasn’t the enjoyable thing. It was seeing how far their body could go; how much pain could be inflicted on them before all they could do was collapse in exhaustion.

Of course, they would never listen to their mother.

(Y/N)’s life was centered around violence, so they were very intrigued when they met the likes of Raphael. Out of all the things they thought they would experience, meeting a walking talking mutant their age was the last thing on their mind. And relating to him was the very last thing.

Both of them were the oldest in their families. Protecting them was their job no matter if they got on their nerves or didn’t want it. This mindset reflected on others and soon all the people they cared about needed protection. Was it mentally weighing on them? That never mattered. All that mattered was their families were safe.

So when (Y/N) took a blow for Raph during an encounter with a supervillain, he took it personally.

He took it personally because how could they do such a thing knowing it would absolutely destroy him? Most importantly, how could they take a blow for him specifically knowing that he’s a literal fucking tank? Raph surely could’ve taken the hit the same way he did for Leo when he was being attacked by the Kraang.

But that didn’t matter to (Y/N). They were never able to relate to someone the way they did with the red clad turtle. Raphael became important to them in a way that rivaled the affection they had towards their younger siblings.

Weeks prior, (Y/N) and Raph had been training in the lair. When the red turtle handed them their water bottle during a break, they seemed almost upset as they took a swig of their water.

“Is somethin’ the matter?” Raph asked gently as he planted himself next to the human teen.

“Y’know…” (Y/N) exhaled through their nose, “if I was in trouble and a villain was trying to kill me, would you take the hit for me?”

Raphael furrowed his eyebrows, not expecting this type of existential question. “I mean… of course I would. If that’s what I had ‘tuh do, I’d do it.”

Although (Y/N) smiled up at him, he could sense their doubt, which annoyed him. “Okay. Then I’d do the same.”

This in particular perturbed the turtle. Even though they were a bit buff, they were so much smaller than him. Enemies would attack him a lot harder than (Y/N) or his brothers.

The mutant shook his head. “Ya’ shouldn’t do that, (Y/N). You could get really hurt tryna take a hit for me. I can handle a blow or two.”

“Sure but, if you were in the scenario I just said, I’d still do it.”

And now it was real.

Raph was beaten so badly, he could barely move, nor could he sense the attack behind him. (Y/N) knew they couldn’t just do nothing; they couldn’t just let him get hurt. Or worse.

• • •

(Y/N) didn’t wake up for a few days after the battle. But even when they woke up, Raph was the only one who didn’t visit them in the Medbay. They’d asked Donnie about Raph, but each time he would make an excuse.

“He’s training.”

“He’s out on a mission.”

“He said he’d be here soon, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

One night, they awoke from a horrific nightmare about the events that had happened about two weeks ago at this point. Instead, the red clad turtle was actually hit and (Y/N) knew without a doubt that he was dead.

The nightmare was all too real for them not to at least see Raph alive. They acknowledged it was silly to think he’d died just because of the dream, but this was something they had always done with their younger siblings.

Though painstakingly, (Y/N) sat up and swiveled their body to the side of the gurney. They planted their feet against the cold concrete, then taking a few breaths before standing to their feet. A bolt of pain stung their gut, but that didn’t stop them from leaving the Medbay and heading into Raph’s room.

The oversized mutant laid silently on his mattress, facing away from the entrance of his room. (Y/N) knew he wasn’t asleep as the red turtle usually snored loudly when in a deep slumber, so they parted their lips slowly to ask a foreboding question.

“Why won’t you visit me?”

There’s silence for a while. So long that the injured party began to question if he was actually asleep. But when they turned to leave, Raph stirred slightly.

“You should be resting, (Y/N).” He said simply.

They sighed in annoyance at Raph’s comment. “You should be visiting me. I thought we were friends.”

Another long silence, causing (Y/N) to become further annoyed.

“Why are you acting like this? You never act like this! I told you what I would do if I had to do it, so why—”

Raph suddenly sat up, his angry gaze directed at his friend. “And I told you not to.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I told you you would get hurt and look at you now! You can barely stand.”

But when he observed their stunned expression, Raph backed down. “Look, I get you feel like ya’ have to protect everyone. You know I get it. But that was dumb. Real dumb.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “I don’t think saving you counts as dumb, Raph.”

He only looked at you for a few seconds. They swore tears began to form in his eyes, but the turtle quickly stood to his feet and scooped (Y/N) in his arms. Raph held them close to his plastron, squeezing them tightly in a hug.

“I know.” There’s a brief pause. “I know… and I love ya’ for it. Just don’t do it again. I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

(Y/N) stood shocked for a moment before exhaling all the tension away, wrapping their arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Attention’

Dr Strange x fem!reader

- i got a few requests for more enemies to lovers Dr Dilf smut so here’s another spin on it. i started this one ages agoooo but it was just sitting in my drafts. love ya enjoy xx

Your mind was burning with embarrassment and regret. Eyes wild. Pacing from corner to coner in order to find your missing clothes strewn all over the floor of Stephen Strange's bedroom. You had found yourself being awoken to whisps of light blurring your peripheral and in Stephen's bed. You were naked. He was naked. Panic started to settle into you and your mind went in a state of permanent static. You weren't in the mood for glute jokes.

This was a very very bad situation. The thing is you and Stephen were like cat and dog, constantly arguing, clashing horns at every given opportunity. It was a permanent hellscape. His heart was made of pure arsenic. You hated every part of him, well...every part of him except his dick apparently.

The party last night...you couldn't remember much, you sent the entire time trying to recollect everything while shimmying your clothes back on. Jesus. The man tore off your bra, the clasps were ripped. You imagined he got down and dirty fairly quickly, the liquor spurring you both on did wonders.

You could recall throwing a drink in Stephen's face. You were drunk and he was fairly tipsy, you remembered him scolding you and grabbing you by the wrist, eyes thinned and glassy, enflamed with rage and you can remember exactly how that made you feel...hot and wet.

Stephen thought you were a devious mental. Veins so tinged in hatred for him you would do anything to snuff him out like a dirty cigarette, you never got along with him even though you tried at first. By some spectacular miracle you had got him in bed. You remember it felt really really good but it'll be a cool day in hell and the planes would freeze over before you would admit that to anybody, to him especially. The morning light was bouncing off of every artifact adorned wall, the billowing breeze of the slightly opened window cooping through it all.

You finally got your heels back on and you stopped in your tracks for a moment to remark at his sleeping form.

His eyes were sealed closed, hair messy against the pillow as he breathed in and out slowly, his chest rising and falling with every exhale. You squinted slightly as you headed for the door, Stephen's arm was above him and resting against the back of his head, his torso and rippling muscles on bare display. He looked at peace, for once, when he was sleeping. Almost pretty. You recoiled when you caught yourself gawking at him in his slumber. You finally found your way out and tiptoed back to your own room in the Compound.

When Stephen awoke, his heart started to thump against his cool skin and he felt ungulfed in eternal dread. Shit. His eyes darted under the covers and he was unpleased to see that he was naked. He was naked with you...and you weren't here.

He perched himself up and gazed at the indent on the pillow next to him that the shape of your frame made.

He was embarrassed and full of internal rage. He let himself fall into bed with you, even though he was positive his hatred for you could travel beyond the physical borders and peramiters of time itself. Stephen's dick ruled over his head for once and it made him angry, to lose his inhibitions like that was unprofessional and quite frankly ridiculous. He was as serious as he was a hardass and he couldn't be so untrustworthy to have fucked you, his word would lose credibility. He said he hated you, yet he banged you? Never in a million years would he have imagined it. Stephen pulled his boxers back and up and buried his face in his hands and let out an eternal grunt before carding his fingers through his hair. Stephen looked up and he saw that you left your little clutch from last night, your bag that you probably left accidentally.

Stephen padded to the clutch you left on his spellbook ridden desk, he felt wrong for going through your things but he lacked the intuition to care about the karma he was probable to face. His fingers twitched to open it up and when he did his mood strayed. He found a tube of lipgloss, peach flavoured, a small vial of perfume, sweet and sugary scented; but his eyes widened whem he found that you stuffed a thong along with them. Wow. That's...suggestive, he wondered why you had an extra pair along with you, maybe because you wanted a backup incase a man that had a sex drive of an aphrodesiac ripped your main pair off with their teeth...like Stephen. He quirked an eyebrow when he closed it back up. He just needed to put this wild night behind him and forget about this one night stand.

Throughout the day, the meetings and the training were not serving as a distraction from the events the night before entertained. If anything they exasterbated his thoughts tenfold. Through one mission briefing, his eyes kept wandering to you, you were on the other side of the table staring off intently into the abyss, you obviously weren't picking up anything because you were absolved in your own little world and inane thoughts too. With every moment Stephen was near you, you began picking up more and more moments of the night you and him shared; it was hotter than you remember, he was...uhm...very good actually. He knew how to work his hands over you, he gripped onto you relentlessly, the bruises on your skin was a reminder of that. His small glances turned into prolonged stares, his eye twitched when you bit your lip, glazing your tongue over your bottom lip. He remembered exactly how you worked your tongue and sweet mouth over his dick. Stephen tried to shake the thought our of his head but he couldn't help it.

Stephen was getting slighty annoyed though and he wasn't sure why he was feeling this way. Every hour that passed was another man that would feel the need to gawk at you, brushing their hands past you and wanting you in bed with them. Flirting with you. Stephen was upset with himself, he found himself quirking his eyebrow at every agent that was walking with you or talking with you. It was strange, he spent one night with you and now he was gaping at you and feeling a twinge of, dare he think it, jealousy? Because of another guy talking to you? Jesus Christ, he was seriously getting emotionally dense AND delicate, he was really letting himself go and you were the object of it.

You were panicking again. The cold and distant stars in the night sky frowning upon you when you were figuring up ways to take you clutch back, you didn't want to talk to him ever again, not after that morning of futile and unmoving embarrassment. You knew in Stephen's mind that leaving your bag was en excuse to see him again, serving as a prominent ego boost to his already blooming narcissistic tendancies. You were filled with disdain but you needed it back; more importantly you needed your underwear back. It was your favourite pair and you were prone to throwing a hissyfit over it. You perched yourself at his door before finally knocking on it. You let out a huff when you saw him, creaking the door open on its hinges. You were met with Stephen's awkward, stern and equally confused face. You pushed passed him with a grunt, meeting his impossibly hard bicep as you sauntered into his room like you owned the place.

‘’Where's my clutch Strange?’’ You asked coldly, not seeing your bag in your eyeline. ‘’I don't want an argument, I just want it back.’’

‘’Oh please. Just walk in like you own the place.’’ stephen slammed his door in a fit of rage.

‘’I think I've already christened it with my presence since you fucked me in this very room. I think I have a right to want my fucking bag back.’’ Your smile was venemous when you twirled yourself around to meet his inssesant cold glare.

‘’We're not talking about it.’’ He tried to dismiss you and this strange confrontation mostly because he wanted to forget that stupid night where nothing should have happened...but it did happen. He couldn't change that.

‘’Yes we are because you've been giving me that Stephen Strange Serious Stare all day. Hell, I'm just as embarrassed as you are about all of it, being a hypocrite and all is not a good look on me.’’ You swiftly turned your back around in order to ransack his room and find your stupid bag, it was a simple task, one that shouldn't take this much time. When you turned he saw the marks on your skin, the darkening purple bites that he was sure he gave you, it made a wash of possessiveness cover him- it was like a marker of him being there on you. Kissing you. Fucking you as if he were his and not a stupid one night stand.

‘’You've got bruises all down your back.’’ Stephen muttered, eyes fixed on you intently.

‘’I wonder who put them there.’’ You quipped with a stupid smirk on your face. You finally found it and your face instantly brightened, you immediately grabbed it and headed for the door. stephen blocked your presence with his ridiculously defined body, you scowled at him.

‘’What, is that it?’’

‘’I don't know what you're talking about.’’ You scoffed as you batted your eyelashes at him, acting coy as a means to tease him out of what he really wanted. His arm blocked your getaway still.

‘’Don't be stupid.’’

‘’Well, you've been more tense than usual today. I'm not sure what I did to make you feel this way.’’ You flirted with him tirelessly, you weren't even sure what outcome you were trying to get at this point, all you knew is that you wanted to see that seething look on his impossibly attractive face.

‘’You know exactly what.’’ Stephen was tired of it all. If he couldn't fight against the feelings he might as well give in to them- and you were one very attractive oppostition he wasn't willing to struggle against. Stephen comes off as a complex and slightly deranged man but when he wanted something it was very simple; he didn't like you but the sex was mindblowing, he didn't like other guys looking at you the same way he did, he wanted you all for himself. A twisted paradox but he was certain that this was what would keep him centred.

‘’We've got time. Spell it out.’’ You bit your lip as you judged him silently, eyes full of careless wonder. Stephen caught your wrist and stared at you coldly, his blank stare boring into your hard face.

‘’I don't want to stoop to your level.’’ He grumbled lowly and it made you squint at him.

‘’You don't have to. Simply spell it out for me or is that too difficult for you to do?’’

‘’Well maybe if you stop being such a goddamn hardass I can get a word in edgeways.’’

‘’I never really thought your one night stands got the privilege of actually speaking to you at all, so go ahead. Tell me whatever you need say and be done with it already because quite frankly I'm tired of doing this.’’

‘’You're so fucking insolent.’’

‘’How so?’’

‘’You think I don't notice everything everyone's being doing to you? Fawning over you? And you goading them on? You're being cruel to them and yourself.’’

You were at a loss for words. Was he trying to flip the switch and blame you? Not a chance in hell.

‘’So it's wrong for me to want other people?’’

‘’No. It's wrong for you to lead them on because you're still so desperate for my attention.’’

You scoffed in his face at his insurmountable ego. It really was quite extraordinary.

‘’Come on sweetheart, don't go dumb on me now.’’ He was enjoying his endless taunt and it made you squirm.

‘’I'm not a whore for your attention smartass.’’ You insulted, too clouded by the way he was looking at you to be focused on anything else.

‘’No but you're a whore for me.’’ Stephen smirked and it made you want to kick him right in those perfect teeth, yet another part of you was screaming at you to simply melt in his words and touch...but then again, what kind of hypocrite would that make you?

‘’You seem certain about it.’’

‘’All I'm saying is that if you want to fuck your way to prominence do it with someone who can at least makes you feel desired not just like a small little attention grab.’’ He said huskily, voice low and gravelly-he was way too close to you, so deliciously close and near you, body heat almost merging.

It felt exactly the same way since the first night: inhibitions melting away as fast as the wind.

Stephen's lips were nearing yours, the proximity closing with every second, eyes flitting and fluttering. You felt pathetic but who could blame you? No one was around to see you fail, no one was around to see you...kiss him? No one could see you fall for him, no one could hold it against you, well, except for him of course.

‘’Well, you've been treating me like an attention grab, a one night stand. Is that all I am to you?’’ You whispered against his lips, grazing the soft pink flesh.

‘’Are you seriously asking me that question?’’ He said gruffly before smashing his mouth onto yours, tasting you like he did all those nights before- reliving the moment, not drunk off of alcohol this time but instead each other's presence. Stephen tasted so orginal, so authentic and irrevicably him. His colgne was deep, and probably way too damn expensive. You definitely held his attention now.

He found it impossible to not have his hands on you- he was so damn greedy for you, his hunger would never be satiated. Stephen cradled your face, eyes screwed shut as he pushed you against his door, your head thudded against the oak and it made you chuckle into his mouth and he felt it echo through his bones. You laughing got him laughing. It was a strange sentiment

‘’Can we take off our clothes?’’ You whimpered and Stephen thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

‘’So polite. Thought you'd always be snippy.’’ Stephen was taunting you again but you didn't care- you had the upper hand. Your hands were ripping at his clothes.

Stephen thought if he let you have your fun, his shock will become that much more potent- he'd never worked this hard for something ever.

You knew all the right buttons to push and all the right places to touch, damn him for being so good at this. It was an insult to every other guy you'd ever been with. Gasps and moans erupted in the air, you clung onto his hair and tugged it back to make him open wider. You tasted immaculate, heady and cleansing. A soul recycle.

Suddenly, he grabbed you by the arms and swivelled you around, the side of your face was digging into the door and Stephen positioned himself behind you. Holy shit. Was he seriously about to fuck you against the door? Does he really have no restraint? Can he simply not wait to get you in the bed that was about 2 metres away?

Oh wow.

His hands travelled down your body and he tugged and tore at your clothes, never fully getting it all off though- Stephen was far too impatient for that. You were lusting after the wrong man...but why did this feel so right? You winced when he rid you of your underwear, bare for him like the first time. His breathing was shallow and rapid in your ear and Stephen kissed and bit down your neck and shoulder blade, he was-leaving his mark on you again. This time on the other side of your body, the sting hurt so good and you were moaning and panting like a bitch in heat.

‘’You still want my attention, baby? Still desperate for me?’’ He growled in your ear, your chest was caving at his dense words and it just made the air that much more thicker

‘’Fuck you!’’ You whined but it was honestly just goading him on even more, and making him that much harder

‘’Shut up and I will.’’

Your ears pricked up at the sound of his zipper, , eyes widening with how much you needed him in you. You made your bed and now you needed to lie in it. His face was buried in the crook of your neck and you gasped when he spanked your ass, his handprint an outline on you. Stephen was feeling increcibly brave and dirty- his ego boosted tenfold. He finally got another chance to feel you again, what man wouldn't be impatient? He smirked as he pushed himself inside you, coating himself with your wetness. The sound you made was so pathetic and sweet, it was like the call of a siren, the song of Achilles. Beautiful, needy thing. Lord, you were inticing. It was apparent by the way he was just rutting in and out of you, banging you against his fucking door. Your dignity was peeling away but fuck all of it. Stephen's arms gripped onto you impossibly tight, his fingernails dug into your soft supple skin- leaving yet another mark on you.

His.

You couldn't speak, your tongue was turning to mush. He was whispering all these dirty nothings in your ear.

‘’My pretty girl.’’ ‘’Love it when you're sweet.’’ ‘’Fuck...so tight.’’

It just made you clench around him even tighter, his words made you that much wetter. Stephen put his hand against the door to steady himself as he fucked into you that much harder, that much rougher. Your legs were turning wobbly. You simply couldn't handle the heat anymore.

You came onto him, so fucking hard and so fucking quick. You let out a strangled cry as he left a stray bite on your earlobe, with that he dumped his prolonged load into your slick pussy, his grunt was from the base of his insides. It felt like he was grounding himself after being in eternal free fall ever since the first time.

You were breathing like a maniac, like you've just ran a marathon- it was incredibly humbling. When Stephen let you go, you felt his warmth leave rapidly and you swirled yourself around to see him. You leaned your limp body against the door as you smiled at him crookedly.

‘’You do this with all of your one night stands?’’ You bit your lip softly, eyes twinkling in the darkness.

Stephen kissed you to make you shut up.

‘’No. Don't refer yourself to that.’’ He warned you and you certainly felt mixed emotions to that.

‘’What you still want me to refer you as my mortal enemy?'’’ You flirted playfully, you were actually curious though...what did he want you to refer to him as?

‘’Attention grab?’’

[its-all-papaya]

hands on your keyboard cowboy i want to hear about the rest of your directors commentary pls !!! i LOVE the last landoscar convo in AN i absolutely need to hear more about it

likely place for you to be !!

(me, frothing at the mouth waiting for someone to ask me about this convo after I told you I was staying off tumblr for the rest of today)

ask me anything about my writing and read anybody, nowhere

OKAY. so. the LAST last scene of AN (fan stage) was like one of the very first things I wrote for that fic. I think the paragraph that starts "Lando's not online much these days" was first, followed by the Silverstone podium thing I used in the blurb, then it was fan stage. (Not to keep russian doll nesting asks, but the fan stage scene is a WHOLE other topic I could ramble about, I won't get into it too much here.) Anyway, other than those little anchors, I essentially just typed everything in chronological order and included what felt right when. So it was building in Lando's brain and building with Oscar and I KNEW I wanted it to end with the fan stage, so I KNEW I had to give some mental and emotional like... break? payoff? for Lando before then so that the fan stage would read like I wanted it to.

(break bc this got disguuuuusting long)

The other thing though is that I originally fucked up the Austria sprint finish order? So like 2/3 of the way through I realized I had to switch Lando and Oscar and that obviously like REALLY changed the entire tone of that passage and the bits right after, because the whole thing NOW is Lando getting beat by his teammate, but that super didn't exist until after I'd written all of Austria and started Silverstone. So I added the stuff about Lando battling Oscar and losing, and I loved it bc I think it gives the whole thing more depth, but then I was like... I need to write Lando out of this. I can't finish the fic without resolving the "Lando resents Oscar for beating him" plot-line. And I hadn't actually drafted anything for the last scene, but I had vague ideas of how it was gonna go that changed drastically when I started thinking about how to include some resolution for the on-track stuff.

SO. I'm done with the whole fic minus the conversation scene. We've had the Lewis Silverstone podium (probably my favorite part of the whole fic, and again, one of the original theses of it) and we're trying to get to the fan stage (probably my other favorite part) and I just like... sent Oscar to Lando's room with him? I didn't plan on all of their relationship development being in that one room, but I liked that it ended up that way because it felt really safe and contained for Lando, so I wanted them to get their payoff there, too. I don't really have anything to tell you about the first bit because it REALLY wrote itself. Like I was IN Lando's brain while writing this fic, all of his stuff was kind of me blind reacting to my own lead-up and then polishing it. Oscar was a bit harder to write, and this scene is the first time I felt like I had to actually make him like... do anything. Other than passively react to what Lando was doing. But even his dialogue just sat really right with me, and once I started the conversation it just felt really true to how they'd been all fic.

PAUSE for me to say I was so paranoid all fic too that I wasn't letting Oscar be enough of a real person with real emotions? I was like... some of these races sucked for Oscar too... ESPECIALLY silverstone... am I just going to make him Fix Lando anyway and not address his race? But THAT felt kind of true to Oscar too. Like he's not burdened the way Lando is and he at least seems to let things roll off easier, so I don't think it's OOC for him to not bring it up or be especially affected by it when Lando was a more pressing issue for him at the time.

Okay anyway. I really really loved the weird fight/not fight energy where Lando was fighting Oscar but Oscar just was not fighting back at all, like the one-sided argument was exactly what I wanted. I got through the part where Lando's like "I'm just not winning because I'm not" and then I got. So motherfucking stuck. Because at this point I'm like... okay. Lando has to give something back. We have to address Oscar's races. And I wrote the end of the convo no less than five times and it took probably three hours. I actually have a draft that I liked (I'll include it at the end) where they did address the Lando-hates-Oscar-beating-him thing, but then I had NO IDEA how to get them out of that. Like Lando admits that he hates losing to Oscar, but then wtf is Oscar supposed to say to that? Like... okay? Yeah? And I tried a bunch of stuff and hated it all, so I literally started a new word doc, dumped everything after "I'm just not winning because I'm not" in there, and started completely over from there in my actual WIP doc.

And from THERE I was like. You know what? We actually don't have to fix this for them? Like LANDO thinks this is a huge deal and makes him a horrible person, but does Oscar give a shit? Obviously they all hate losing to each other, that's like... the whole thing. Their whole goal is to beat everyone. So I was like "I'll indulge myself and just let them not deal with it right away" and I'd already written the "oscar's hand is out, palm up" paragraph for that original draft I liked, so I slotted her back in instead. And again, I am IN LANDO'S BRAIN, and I was like if EYE am thinking too much about how this conversation "should" go in a perfect world, Lando is DEFINITELY thinking about it. And I was like oh I need to stop thinking? Lando needs to stop thinking. And it sounds insane now because when I re-read the fic now, the through-line of Oscar calming Lando's thoughts is so so so obvious, but I promise that until writing "I need to stop thinking" it had never ever occurred to me that that's what Lando and Oscar's building relationship was doing for Lando the whole time.

Oh ALSO, in my original concept, they were never going to kiss because I felt like it would be forced bc I hadn't built to it enough. But once I hit on "I need to stop thinking" I was like OBVIOUSLY Oscar will kiss him to shut his silly brain up. Which, fun fact, is where "Lando isn’t even surprised. At any of it, really. It was always going to end up here" came from. It was just me, Soph, being like... oh. OBVIOUSLY THEY WERE ALWAYS GOING TO KISS.

So then I finished the kissing part and I was like... how will we get to fan stage for REAL. And I was still kind of worried about not resolving the on-track tension thing, so I was like... Lando is probably worried about that too! And the last "No, babe. That's your job." came to me straight from heaven or something, idk, but it was so perfect for ending the scene. Like I had spent HOURS AND HOURS worried about how to make them authentically address this and still stay soft and warm with each other and Lando's been panicking about it for eight straight days and we finally get the nerve to bring it up and Oscar is like "you silly silly goose, of course you hate losing to me!"

hahahahaha okay final notes then scene draft: as I said in the answered ask after I first decided to write AN2, I feel like I ended up with a version of this scene that was.... SO accidentally foreshadow-y of Hungary?? I was watching the team orders situation play out during that race and I felt like that dodgeball "the gift of prophecy" meme because I was like... holy fuck, this is EXACTLY the kind of thing that AN Lando was afraid of. The other note is that the line "we don't have to fix it right now, Lando" in the hollow hereafter is a direct result of my fight with this scene in AN and the topics of it. AN2 was destined, it's literally the only thing I can think of with the amount of weird pre-work I'd already done for a situation I didn't know was going to exist ever when I published AN????

oKAY THANKS FOR ASKING CLEARLY I HAD THOUGHTS!! Here are your demos/deleted drafts !!

this is how the austria sprint scene finished when I thought it was Lando P2, Oscar P3:

As he clasps Oscar’s gloved hand in parc fermé, he wishes for a blind second that it was a grand prix so he could remember how Oscar’s eyes looked squeezed against champagne spray up close. Then he remembers that place in the back of his mind and the ugly, twisted relief he felt passing his teammate for the final time, and he shoves the idea away. He doesn’t deserve that, either.

And this is how the final convo went when I was trying to make them discuss things (picks up after "It’s just me. I’m just not winning because I’m not.” and the rest of that paragraph didn't exist yet):

“We drive the same car,” Oscar says and Lando already knows he’s not going to like the rest, “and I’ve been qualifying like shit the whole month, too. It’s not just us out there. You know that. You’re being really hard on yourself.”

Lando remembers then that Oscar’d had his race ruined too. Worse, probably. Without a choice in the matter. And instead of wallowing he’s here comforting Lando, who should know better by now. Who should be better by now.

“I’ve been here three times as long as you,” he’s teetering on that precipice, deciding between anger and the other thing. “And I’m still making stupid mistakes. It’s worse because I should be better by now, and-” he stops. Considers.

“And?” Oscar prompts and Lando still can’t look at him.

“And you beat me. In Austria.” He says, quieter than anything since they’ve entered his room.

Oscar takes a breath so deep Lando can hear it. When he finally glances up, Oscar is already looking at him. His eyes still have that stupid warm, fond look in them and Lando’s afraid he’s going to do something dumb, like apologize, but instead what he says is “I beat you in Monaco.”

Lando scoffs, eyes back on his feet. “That wasn’t the same.”

“Why?” and he’s still asking like he doesn’t know the answers.

“Because it wasn’t, Oscar, people weren’t saying things in Monaco.” He’s losing the thread of the conversation a little bit, brain wrung dry from hours of thinking these things over, and it feels ten times harder to do it all out loud.

“Is this about what people are saying?” Oscar asks, then, and maybe they’ve both talked themselves in a bit of a knot.

“It’s not about anything.

“Lando,” Oscar says. “C’mere.”

His hand is out, palm up, and he’s taken his cap off at some point so his hair is messy and ruffled and he looks soft even though he’s got his damn polo neatly tucked in like always. He should be mad. Lando’s selfish, he’s so… he’s always taking what he shouldn’t from Oscar, but he goes anyway, puts his hand in Oscar’s and lets his teammate pull him down next to him on the bed.

“Are you upset about Austria?” he asks gently. He’d let go of Lando’s hand as soon as he was sitting, so his arm is free to curl around Lando’s waist, drag his palm up. Hip to ribs.

Lando sucks on the side of his thumb where it’s started to bleed. When he brings his hand to his face, it’s shaking a little. “Not…” he pauses, concedes, “Kind of. But not at you, I don’t think. I like when you do well.”

Oscar laughs a little and Lando’s eyebrows pull together, but it doesn’t feel mean. Lando’s not sure Oscar has a mean bone in his body when it comes to him, and that should be an issue, probably.

Oscar’s palm slides back down, ribs to hip.

“At what, then?”

And that’s the question, isn’t it.

And then I couldn't get them out of it so all that went to the graveyard! But I like the way it ended up, so I'm really really not mad about it.

KAY THX CHARLIE love u <3 if anybody else made it this far, ask about other scenes, I dare you >:)