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#victor creed imagines
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Speak in Flowers
Flowers speak their own words and show their actions. And your man loves to speak it out loud.
Includes: Victor Creed (Sabertooth), Loki, Thor, Steve Rogers (Captian America), Bucky Barnes (Winter Solider), Bruce Wayne (Batman), Clark Kent (Superman), Arthur Curry (Aquaman), Orm Marius, Joker, Duncan Vizla (Polar)
All my knowledge about the flowers I found on this link
Enjoy this little fluff piece!
Victor Creed (SABERTOOTH)
PINK CAMELLIA: Longing for you
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Victor lives his long life with little to no memories, as most are filled with shocking trauma and events. As years passed and you met him, he was emotionally stunned, fearing what to say and show. The relationship was blooming and bubbling into a fresh memory Victor did not want to miss, but his life did not build him that way. Books helped a lot to him, for him to communicate in ways he needed to express to you his love, his devotion, and his happiness.
You keep every single post-it note, notes in your books, phone, and bathroom mirror he has left. Victor wished to show more of himself in small ways. And therefore, he went for a long walk around the city trying to find a token he could present to you with pride. And then he stopped in front of a flower shop, not looking at all the roses it had on display but at the daintiest petals—pink Camellia. An older lady approaches him, saying.
"Their meanings are Longing For You."
Victor's mind clicks, "I'll buy it."
Returning home, he presents the flowers to you with a slightly spoken tone "I thought of you when I saw them."
Loki
HONEYSUCKLE: Bonds of Love
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Ever since Loki decided to take the position as Thor's right hand in governing New Asgard, he inescapably made date nights a fantasy to have. Seeing him several times a month and a few weekly calls doesn't leave much to it. It was as heavy for Loki as for you. Two lovers from different realms trying to make it work. With that, the distance made Loki a nuisance to your delivery man. Every day at 11 am, at your door with a package in hand. At this point in time, you are on a first-name basis.
"Morning, Y/n. Back again."
"Morning, Stephen. Thanks again. Have a cookie."
Loki sent small things that could be delivered easier and faster so you could feel his presence somehow. Most of the packages held a few popular treats, accompanied by letters from him depicting how his day was and always, at the end, writing how much he misses you and cannot wait to have you in his arms. In a new package from today, this one was the most fascinating. Opening the brown box, Hologram butterflies exited the box flying around the room, glowing slightly green as they dispersed into thin air. Looking down, you see delicate branches colored with pink and orange petals, each branching out in their own direction, forming a halo-like shape. Opening your phone, you snap a picture and google search for its name
"Honeysuckles? Hmm...Thanks, Wikipedia. Now let us see the meaning."
Bonds of love.
"Oh, how I miss you, Loki."
Thor
MARJORAM: Joy and happiness
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Thor was in a tight position. He was now leading New Asgard on Earth and managed to convince you to try and live in this new area so you could be with him. Not ready to fully move there, you decided to live there for the next 3 months, taking a well-deserved break from work. Living there was a new experience, and you were there to witness the city's first town meeting, first competitions, first restaurant openings, and, as of this moment, the first festival with Thor in hand. Even Loki was there looking somewhat happy but primarily absent.
"You good, Loki?"
"A bit. Seeing the Asgardian people happy makes me joyous, but I miss my lover."
"When are you seeing them?"
"In a few days. They do not know. It will be a surprise."
You looked at him, offering a comforting hug as the people walked around enjoying themself. The sky rumbled, announcing Thor's imminent arrival. Thor's step continued to rumble, and Loki stepped away from you, joining the crowd. Thor was now in front of you, smile beaming and hands full of... green leaves?
"MY DARLING!!" Thor shouted
"Thor...no need to shout. I am in front of you."
"Excuse me! Here you go!"
Thor offers the bouquet of green leaves to you. You accept, sniffing the faint smell of herbs.
"Are these used for... cooking?"
"Yes, I mean, no. Well, the nice lady in the flower shop told me they complement any meat, fish, or vegetable."
"Thanks, I guess..."
"That is not the point of those flowers. Their meanings are Joy and Happiness. Which I feel those feelings when I am with you."
Thor explained nervously, glancing at you with hearty eyes, hoping you would like them as much as he loves you.
"I love you... and the flowers." you replied
Bucky Barnes (Winter Solider)
BLUE AND RED SALVIA: I think of you/ Forever mine
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Bucky loves love. Because of you. He cherished the moments he got to experience in this new modern life when he thought it would be a throw-away line. He adored each of those love-filled moments and loved making them even more. Bucky had a small notebook at all times with him where he wrote each moment he did with you, keeping an excellent timeline as well as future notes on what he should do next time. While looking at his notebook, he noticed the lack of gift-giving, especially flowers. Flowers for Bucky where a personalized and live-like message for your lover. And therefore, he decided to find flowers that were the definition of BUCKY. Walking to market place, Bucky walked among the fresh fruits and produce, looking and thinking until his gaze was filled with so many flowers. Stopping at the sight, Bucky hears a thoughtful voice inquiring
"Looking for a unique flower?"
"Yes, for my partner. Something that would depict me as a flower, if there is a flower like that." Bucky speaks self-doubt lacing his voice
"Of course there is; flowers speak many languages."
Bucky nodded, looking at the flowers stopping at two different versions of the same densely packed tubular flowers with velvety leaves. Red and blue.
"Those are Salvia. The red ones mean 'Forever Mine', and the blue ones mean 'I Think Of You'. Hummingbirds and butterflies love them."
"I do call Y/n hummingbird from time to time." Bucky whispered while taking out his wallet to pay, "I'll take them both."
Arriving in a better mood back home, Bucky found his love lounging on the couch. Walking to you with light ninja steps, he placed the flowers in front of you.
"Suprise!"
Steve Rogers (Captian America)
HOLLY: Defense, Domestic Happiness
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Steve was on many missions, which were given with his work/lifestyle. So he relished in it when he was home with you. His housewife kink was really showing (if you know what I mean *wink wink*). He adored it when he was doing the laundry with you, doing the dishes, decorating the room the way you like, and planting new herbs and vegetables in your garden. Steve was sold on the whole fantasy he has with you. And he wanted you to show you that. Everyday. Every second.
With that, Steve went on a hunt to find flowers he knew would communicate that. Steve hopped onto a public train in his best 'don't look at me, I know I am famous' disguise, glimpsing at the passing city inching closer to the town center and hopping off his stop going towards a flower shop as he goes cautiously to the lady
"Good day, ma'am. The name is Frank Castle, and I am looking for a flower that would communicate that I love my home and my partner." Steve said, trying not to be suspicious of his 'real name.'
"That name rings a bell, but you don't seem familiar from the photos I have seen of 'Frank.'" The lady says with a hint of suspicion in her voice, looking at the tall blonde up and down. But he wasn't the only one who appeared in front of her with a fake name, and she was a pro at sniffing out a fake. Nonetheless, she wasn't going to put the man in a tight spot.
"Is there a flower you like? Any flower that speaks to you?" She asked. Steve, I mean Frank, looks at the flowers, seeing all kinds of colors and textures in an ecstasy of nature's artistic expression. Finding a dainty four-petal flower so tiny and minuscule an untrained eye would not catch its beauty.
"That is a Holly. They mean 'Defense' and 'Domestic Happiness'." Steve smiled at the flowers that were the size of a pin, smiling gleefully, "I'll take them."
Walking back home with a bouquet in hand, steve opens the door seeing Y/n making dinner. "Y/n? Turn around." Turning around, steve smiles at your surprised smile, appearing in a second when seeing the flowers.
"A little something so you know what I feel when I am with you."
Bruce Wayne (Batman)
IRIS: Faith, Trust, Wisdom, Hope, Valor
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Bruce knew he had it good with you. Really good. You were so, so SO understanding of him, his actions, and his double life. Not even once doubting him but being there with him. Bruce wanted you to know how much he loves you for that, and there were so many ways he could show you that. Trips, gifts, new adventures in new parts of the world, you name it, he will give it to you in seconds. But Bruce remembered that the smallest things mean the most, something he learned from his father when he saw him give his mother flowers every single day when returning from work. As Bruce was in his 'day' office, he called up a number of the oldest flower shop in Gotham, knowing the owner quite well.
"Mr. Wayne. Good to hear from you." The lady said happily
"Mrs. Flowerbottom. Always good to hear from you as well. I would need your expertise. I have been with my lover for a few months now, and I would like some flowers that describe them."
"Of course. And how would you describe your lover, Mr. Wayne?" "They are smart, brave, trust me, and I trust them, and quite simply, they are my hope for a better future." The lady chuckles at the honey-covered words from the billionaire former playboy looking at flowers that describe y/n to the bone.
"I am looking at them right now. Would you like to add a note?" "Yes, it would be: "Thank you for being yourself. I love you with all my strength and heart. Yours always, Bruce.""
Hanging up and finishing up the day, Bruce entered his car smiling, knowing that in a few hours, his lover will a unique surprise back in their shared home. Arriving back at Wayne manor. Bruce looks at the enormous bouquet of Hydrangeas standing proudly in the middle of the living room, a small note with a definition of irises at the bottom of the bouquet
IRIS: Faith, Trust, Wisdom, Hope, Valor
The keys jingle again as you enter, seeing Bruce standing next to the bouquet, saying softly
"These are for you."
Clark Kent (Superman)
YARROW: Everlasting love
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Clark was a Boy Scout. Everyone called him that; the man was a boy at heart personified. His smile never dropped, he was always ready to help others, and he was a lovesick puppy at heart. So lovesick. Clark breathed you. His demeanor changed completely when he was with you. He was and still is diving head-first into the relationship. Telling you about his plans with you having a house, having kids, and an all-around perfect life. He wanted it with you.
Clark made it his everlasting task to bring you home flowers every day after work. To show you that he loves you to the ends of the universe and back. One day when he was going to his usual flower shop he saw new flowers, flowers that weren't there yesterday. And those flowers beckoned him to come closer, sniff them, and be entranced in their intoxicating smell. "They are called Yarrow." the lady said, smiling at the glasses-wearing dork. "They mean Everlasting Love."
Clark smiles at the yellow droplet-like flowers taking them in hand and smelling the sweet and tangy fragrance. Waving the lady goodbye, promising to arrive again tomorrow as he heads home to his love. Hearing the door open, you walk towards Clark, ready to give him his welcome home kiss, but before you can do that, Clark shows you yellow flowers with the tangiest smell.
"For my everlasting love."
Arthur Curry (Aquaman)
ASTER: Symbol of Love and Daintiness
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Arthur loved to scare and surprise you. He loved to go behind the couch to scare you and then present you with a small gift to make you not angry at him. Trinkets such as seashells, funny coffee mugs, or even t-shirts were out of context and confusing. It was funny, really. And sometimes Arthur can go overboard with the scares to the point where you get mad at him and make him sleep on the couch. Like today, Arthur woke up with a stiff neck and aching back while you were well-slept and making yourself your morning tea. Arthur messed up big time, and he was on a mission to make it better by the end of the day. Running like a headless chicken to town, Arthur zoomed past people startling them along the way. Halting to a stop, he sees his salvation, a flower shop. Walking inside, he is greeted by a lady seeing him disheveled and out of breath.
"Please, help me. I messed up with my dove, and I need your best flowers." He pleaded
"Look around the store and see what flower catches your attention." Looking around the room, Arthur spins a few times around, his mind starting to blur, dizziness taking over his decision process. Slowing down, his body turns to a corner of the room with purple-colored daisy flowers.
"The daisies!" Arthur exclaimed, pointing at them like a 3-year-old kid. The lady chuckles as she walks over to them, taking them out of the vase. "They are called Asters. They mean Symbol of Love and Daintiness."
"Well, my dove is dainty and my symbol of love. I'll take them." You watch from the window as Arthur walks back home with flowers in hand, a big smile on his face. The door unlocks, and you make yourself busy by staring blankly at your book as Arthur inches closer, extending his hand which held the flowers. Looking at him, uninterested, he says
"They are called Asters. They are symbols of Love and Daintiness. And to me, you are both. And I am sorry to scare you so much, and I love you."
"....fine. I accept your apologies.Dumbass."
Orm Marius
CALLA LILY : Beauty
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Orm had a first relationship with a human. A surface dweller. Someone he held no positive emotions, and yet...he was smitten. So much so that he decided to live with them a few days a week as a start. Orm felt himself stumble into a new world, a world where some souls expressed themself with care, actions, words, or even presents, the most popular being flowers. As Orm walked around town with his chosen love, he saw a flower shop looking at the offers they had. Letting go of Y/n's hand, he walks over using the given time while Y/n's distracted by the fountain waterworks. Stepping closer, he stops at tubular shape flowers.
"They are Calla Lilly. They are extraordinary flowers." the lady working speaks to Orm. "Why are they special?" Orm asks, looking confused at the white flowers.
"They mean beauty. In their own language," she explained.
"The flowers have their own language?"
"Yes, in a way. The flowers you give to your loved ones can be interpreted in a special way beyond the aesthetic." Orm thought for a second before taking out 5 dollars." I have one paper on this currency. Is that enough to cover the whole store?"
The lady laughed at his bluntness as she took the bill and handed him 3 Lillies. "No, but it gives you 3 calla lilies."Orm grunts at his failure but nonetheless smiles as he walks back to Y/n, handing the Lillies.
"These are for you, my beauty."
Joker
YELLOW JASMINE: Grace and Elegance
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J tried to keep his job away from you. he tried to divide his "job" away from your eyes, ears, and hands. But it was not something he had complete control over it. Most of the time, he arrived bruised and bloodied while you played nurse. And he wanted to show you in his own way what you mean to him. So he took you in his purple Lamborghini towards the end of the city, a place that would not be considered part of Gotham, a shrouded place, abandoned houses, people looking at you like with a predator-like gaze. Joker held your hand as you walked towards a tiny restaurant you would surely miss if you did not see the small sign at the bottom of the floor spelling out 'Eat in, not out'.
Entering the place, you and J sit next to each other, and you start to ask questions. This wasn't the place where you two would usually go. No glitz and glamour, expensive tiny dishes that would cost an arm and leg, views that would depict the whole Gotham feeling as if you were running the town. It was all swapped with a one-room-sized restaurant without photos, calendars showing the year 2012, and an elderly woman standing in front of you
"Good to see you, J." She spoke her voice gravely, but her perfume was flowery intoxicating
"And you as well, Mrs. Flowerbottom. For tonight I brought my special person here, and I would like your best dish combo."
Mrs. Flowerbottom smiled lovely at you moving back into the kitchen, and you felt just more question bubble in you.
"You come here often?" You asked, looking at him with more question marks in your eyes.
"I was living here at one point. When I had no money when I was younger, I slept on the floor where we are. This place means a lot to me."
While J spoke, Mrs. Flowerbottom brought out chicken soup on a tray, the bowls big enough for 3 people. And next to the food on J's side, she puts flowers with the same sweet perfume Mrs. Flowerbottom was shrouded in. The small clusters of starry, pure-white petals with rich green leaves. J takes them giving them to you.
"I know that I am not good with words, but I have learned that yellow jasmines mean grace and elegance. And I will give you that. By opening myself up and my history with you."
Kissing his lips, you reply, "I would love that."
Duncan Vizla (Polar)
LOTUS FLOWER: Purity, Enlightenment, Self-regeneration, and Rebirth
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Duncan felt his way of life changed because of you. You two lived in his cabin next to the lake, shrouded in snow, away from people, enjoying nature's ambiance, feeling thankful for the experience you are sharing with your Donut. Duncan felt himself being happy. He enjoys chopping wood outside in the freezing cold, knowing that he is chopping them for a fire where he will sit behind you, telling his stories about when he was 'working' back in the day. But Duncan wasn't too much of a gift-giver. He was still finding himself in this relationship. And while Duncan was chopping wood, he saw you peaking outside the window, a blanket on your shoulder looking so cozy and inviting him in. Seeing you wave and then moving back in the room, Duncan stopped his actions and walked behind the house and behind a few trees into the woods, seeing the small Polly dom he made no bigger than a 1-meter squared cube. Removing the shrouded small man-made pond was holding his hard work. He managed to grow louts flowers in this weather and in this land. But thanks to the guidance of a sweet lady, he did a good job.
"Thank you, Mrs. Flowerbottom." He said into the cold wind. Taking his flowers and putting them in a basket, he walks into his home. The warm ambiance melted off his cold shake. And you see Duncan with a small grin, and you know he did something he shouldn't
"If you killed someone and buried them in the back, I do not want to know, Duncan." Duncan laughs as he hands you the cloth-covered basket.
"I didn't kill anyone, but I did something for you." With a puzzled look, you remove the cloth seeing pink lotus flowers, the fragrance filling your nose."
"When did you buy them?" You asked, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I didn't. I planted them a few months ago."
"Why louts? They are so hard to grow here."
Duncan sits down, looking at you with a warm smile as he holds your hands, rubbing small circles of comfort.
"Because I learned they mean Purity, Enlightenment, Self-regeneration, and Rebirth... which reminds me of you. And a bit of me as well. More so, the rebirth. I feel like a new man with you, with a new life."
Feeling eyes prickle in your eyes, you say with a soft chuckle, "You really know how to make me ugly cry, Donut."
Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think.-V
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fandomnerd9602 · 26 days
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Victoria Creed, Sabertooth, trudges towards Y/N, a variant of Deadpool…
Y/N: ohmygosh!!! Sabertooth!! I’m such a fan. I should’ve worn my white—!
She grabs Y/N by the throat…
Victoria: keep talking and I’ll rip at your guts
Y/N: that a promise beautiful
Victoria: you’re cute. I just might have to keep you as my pet
Y/N: please do
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Fan cast: Ronda Rousey as Victoria Creed
For @konstantin609
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creedslove · 11 months
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☣ Masterlist ☣
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Masterlist 1 | Masterlist 2
VICTOR CREED (SABRETOOTH)
Series:
Basement (3/?)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
The Animal Who Dreamed He Was A Man (angst drabbles) (4/?)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Imagines:
Face Dripping GIF
Imagine Victor Went Back In Time In DOFP
Asks:
Victor Being Tied To The Bed
Victor's Toys Stash
Victor's Thoughts On Marriage And Fatherhood
Climbing&Kissing Victor
Victor On Being Abandoned
Victor On Snuggling
Wade Finding Out Victor Cuddles
RAY DONOVAN
Headcanon:
Ray Showing Affection Towards You
Songfic:
I Don't Love You
LOGAN HOWLETT (WOLVERINE)
One Shots:
Anything The Wolf Wants
DRABBLES AND REQUESTS:
Kitties And Little Wolves (Logan x Victor)
Pregnant (Victor x Reader)
Together (Rogue x Logan)
Meeting The Family (Ray Donovan x Reader)
OLD MAN LOGAN/OLD MAN VICTOR
Series:
Another One Of Us (2/?)
Part 1
Part 2
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loganbcrnes · 2 years
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Gym Fever
Logan Howlett x reader x Victor Creed
Summary: you are working out at the gym, when tensions rise between you, Logan and Victor
warnings: 18+, smut, double-penetration, anal & vaginal, pussy eating, blowjobs & unprotected sex.
authors note: hello! I’m back with this oneshot, i’ve been going to the gym for the past few months and kept thinking about how hot it’d be to go to the same gym as Logan and Victor, so i just haaad to write this. Obviously set in an alternate universe or some shit, because i don’t think Logan would ever be a fitness trainer lol.
readers ethnicity and body type isn’t mentioned, want everyone to feel inclusive. Enjoy :)
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How did you end up laying on a yoga mat with one man fucking your throat and the other eating you out?
With your legs draped over Logan’s shoulders and your nails digging into Victor’s thighs, you lose yourself in the mist of pleasure clouding your mind. While the big muscular man standing over you rolls his hips and fills your mouth with the sole purpose of chasing the tightness of your throat, the other, in between your legs, spreads your lips to marvel at the sight of your pink and shiny sex before giving it a kitten lick, first testing the waters, then diving in and ravishing the delicacy offered to him. The thing about the situation that has your skin heating up and your head swimming, is the fact that you could get caught by anyone, it’s the thrill and the anticipation of getting in trouble that makes you excited and keeps moisture pooling at your core.
You all know it’s against the gym’s policy for employers to fraternize with customers, you’re all fully aware of the consequences if you’re caught in the act. Logan could be fired, yours and Victor’s membership could be taken away and you could be blacklisted if you’re not careful. Next time, if there is a next time, it won't be so rushed, it’ll be more meticulously planned, choosing one of your homes instead of the workout room well past closing. Next time, you sigh to yourself, your mind already planning ahead.
Logan Howlett, your personal trainer, doesn’t waste any time in drinking the slick you are, so generously, producing for him; you taste amazing, sweet with a pinch of sour, your walls are greedy for his fingers as they pump into you and your toned legs flex around his head, threatening to lock him in place until you are completely satisfied. His goatee and stubble burning your inner thighs as he continues to lick.
He revels in the gargled moans escaping from your full mouth, in the little jerks of your hips when he touches your sweet spot and insists on rubbing it, flicking and sucking on your hard nub at the same time. Victor Creed, Logan’s brother, but also your gym bro, could make jokes about how healthy he is for you, how many benefits his cum would give you, but he refrains himself as this is not the time to joke, this is the time to watch the outline of his cock when he pushes in deep down your throat, this is the time to hold your shoulders and make sure you take all of him with your nose pressed to his testicles. It’s difficult to properly breathe, however, you try your best, to please them, to make this special workout session worth it for everybody.
Drool and spit drip down your blushed cheeks, slick and saliva trail down your sex, wetting your tense ring of muscles in their path, but none of it touches the ground; Logan flattens his tongue and collects every last drop of it, Victor scoops it up with his thumbs and uses it as lube to rub your nipples, to make them wet as if he was suckling on them. Are you on Earth? Are you on another planet? Are you flying or are you grounded? Your head is incapable of forming coherent thoughts at the moment, your body feels like it’s experiencing electric shocks every time the tip of a tongue or the pad of a finger touches it.
Everything feels like you’re watching your bent backwards body from above, as if in an extrasensory bubble ready to burst any second, now. All the built up tension reaches a breaking point when Logan pushes your legs up with his hands on the back of your thighs and dives into your pussy without even taking a breath. Victor leaves your mouth as he sees your writhing, conscious that your orgasm is about to hit you, you breathe in fresh air through desperate pants and roll onto yourself, climax making your whole body flex and fall from the hard but squishy ball.
“Victor, you should taste her, she’s amazing” Logan chuckles, licking the remnants of your release from his lips.
“Oh, I will, don’t worry” your eyes are closed as you try to regulate your breathing again, but you can hear the smirk in the man’s voice and shiver, knowing they’re not even half done with you.
It all started earlier that day, when you were doing some mobility stretches before your appointment with Logan for some new compound movements. Your consultation went pretty well, afterwards you talked a little about your lifestyle, how active you are, what your goals are and, then, he asked about your sex life, if you had anyone you could exercise with or who would cook for you to see if he had to simplify recipes even more or not.
That question should have sounded disrespectful and completely out of place, but, when you told him that, no, you did not have anyone by your side, his eyes darkened and his voice lowered for just a second. The air around you felt thicker, you couldn’t be the only one feeling some sort of tension between the two of you and that’s when Victor came in, not even knocking, not expecting anyone to be there except for his friend and brother. He felt it immediately, the sexually charged air around you, he could almost see little sparks going off around your bodies, a smirk grew onto his face and you could see his sharp teeth. He asked if everything was okay and both you and Logan whispered a weak “yes” in unison, as if practiced. Victor was a little confused but he let it slide, exiting the office with a small smirk and going back to his workout. You left soon after, power walking to the women's locker room to splash some cold water on your face and change into your gym clothes, shorts and a sports bra, ready to do the compound moves that Logan showed you earlier.
Everything went well during your training, you did some deadlifts, squats, Bulgarian split-squats and by the end of it, your legs and butt were sore and felt like jelly, you could barely walk. Victor looked at you doing sumo deadlifts, pushing your butt out, he looked at Logan looking at you from a little window dividing the activities room from the main hall with all the machines, he looked intently and he got an idea. It almost felt like a little lightbulb turned on above his head and he had to tell his brother because he knew he would have agreed in a heartbeat.
So that’s how you ended up in between the two men, it all sparked from the elder’s idea to have some fun together since you, yourself, mentioned you had no one, what bad could some fun do? Well… maybe you did a little crush on them, but you were never going to let them know that.
Right now, with Victor’s naked body sprawled over the mat-like floor, you mount his face, nestling your sensitive core over his lips as Logan comes to kneel beside you both. His fingers trace a path across your shoulder blades and down your chest to fondle your breasts gently, squeezing the soft mounds and pinching your nipples to send a shock wave up your spine. You are convinced Victor’s lips are wicked because there is no way he is this good, they can’t feel so soft at every press over your folds, his tongue can’t reach so deep inside you, his sharp teeth softly nibbling at your clit, it is just not possible! However, it is possible, the man in between your legs flattens his tongue to trail the length of your soft lips and lap at your wetness before fucking you with it.
His hands snake up to your ass and squeeze your roundness, pushing you to move, to ride him properly. It’s a gentle slap on your ass cheek that awakens you from your sensory trance and sets you free to move, to roll your hips and to grind on his lips over and over, filling the room with beautiful melodies of rhythmic  “ah ah”s.
“Shit… Look at you, Darlin’” Logan marvels at the sight of your body bouncing, of your back arching when you rest your hands over Victor’s thighs.
Logan looks at you for a long minute, he observes your features, the little creases on your forehead, the way you furrow your eyebrows at a particular flick of the other man’s tongue, and it’s only when your body shakes from an impending orgasm and you flop down, curving your back, that he grips your hair in his fist and pulls you back, stealing a gasp from your throat.
“Don’t forget about me, doll” Logan mutters, low, making you open your eyes and look at his blown out ones.
Talking is not necessary in his situation, you think, actions speak louder than words, so, while you keep yourself balanced with one hand resting on Victor’s wide hairy chest, the other stretches to the side to hold Logan’s thick cock and jerk him, slowly. The man hisses as soon as his neglected length is granted some attention, he growls, low in his throat and lolls his head back, living the moment and the softness of your fingers circling his hardness.
“Just like that” he sighs when you pick up the pace a little, still able to pump him even with pleasure threatening to overwhelm your entire system.
It’s too hard to resist, to keep moving, after a while, as your body is too tired to keep going. You sit on the man’s face, almost suffocating him, however, he doesn’t relent; he keeps lapping at your folds and, once he encases your pearl in between his teeth and bites, everything inside you explodes. You flop on your side, then, next to Victor, and abandon Logan’s length for the time being. Victor pulls you close, whispering soft praises, stroking your hair, and rubbing your back, gently, to slow the tremors raking through your body and calm down the fast beating of your heart.
Your throat is parched, your legs won't stop shaking, but you want more. You haven’t had enough of them yet, you want to stroll even further into the lion’s den and feel them both inside you at the same time. Victor can tell, he can tell by your still heavy breathing and the way your body fidgets restlessly to press against them, that you need something, you’re searching for the peak of your pleasure. He, sneakily, grins at you, already planning what next to do to have you moaning for them.
His hands drift slowly to your hips, fingers gripping tightly to pull you closer to him. He feels the slight movement as you tuck your leg between his, rocking softly against his thigh and making his cock visibly twitch against his belly. The man lets you take control for once, he lets you move as slow or as fast as you want to, admiring all the little changes happening in your face from pleasure, from frustration for not getting where you want to, from desperation as your body grows hot again, as your legs grow tired.
When he feels you slowing down your rolls, Victor flexes the muscles of his thigh and gives you new sensations, new friction to use to get off and, with renovated fervor, you start a new ascent to utmost pleasure. Your moans, high in pitch when your orgasm runs towards you, alert the two men who wait just a little longer, they wait for the moment just before your release, they wait and stop you with both sets of hands on your hips and legs. Victor stills your hips while Logan, forcefully, lifts your legs and turns you around to rest on your back again, wet and aching sex denied its awaited price.
“Whyyy” you whine in protest, eyes fixated on the ceiling. You do want more, you feel insatiable, you need more to quench your thirst, why are they not giving it to you?!
“Let’s move to the main room” Logan chuckles at your antics, helping you up. Both men stand with their cocks up and present, almost calling your attention by dripping salty drops of pre-cum in front of your eyes, however, this is not the time to swallow them, Logan knows what he wants and he’s determined to get it, now.
The bench press underneath Victor’s body feels soft at the touch, the man lays on it as if he was to start exercising, however, he’s only instructed to hold you against his chest while Logan stands in front of you both and stares at the way your breasts bounce with your heavy breathing, at the way your lower lips are so puffy and dark pink looking. He’s reminded of taking you into his mouth mere minutes ago and he groans, needing to feel your body again. With your back pressed to Victor’s sweaty chest, you try lifting yourself up by holding the bar above your head so as not to rest your whole weight on the man beneath you. He stops, though, he circles your middle with his strong arms and holds you in place making you feel the presence of his length nestled in between your ass-cheeks.
“Lay down, frail, don’t worry” Victor whispers in your ear before nibbling at your lobe.
“That’s it, sweetheart, just enjoy the ride” Logan interjects as his fingers trail a path up your legs, sending shivers up your spine.
While Victor’s fingers pinch and roll your nipples in between them, Logan works on stretching your rim for the first time. Your pussy is left untouched and neglected, good for nothing except dripping wetness onto the man’s fingers. It feels a little too much, at first, but he takes it slow, he lets you get used to the foreign feeling and, then, scissors you to make sure you are ready for the other’s cock.
“Victor is big, you know that, you need to be well prepared” He smirks, crouching down and bringing out his tongue to press it to your ring of muscles and push it inside your body alongside his two digits.
It really is strange but, once the initial uneasiness is gone, you only experience pleasure and a fullness you’ll never forget. A couple more minutes and Logan leaves your, now, wet ass to draw a line up your sticky sex.
“Are ya’ ready?” he asks him, then, to which Victor nods and, lightly, lifts you up to align himself with your hole and lower you on his shaft.
“Ah… Shit... “ he moans, lost in your tightness. “She’s already clenching so much” he groans, then, trying his best not to pull you down completely. His hips move slowly, sliding deeper into you, stretching you wide for him, inch by inch. The sting of pain is overpowered by the sweet hum of pleasure washing over you and you throw your head back, wanting to feel more of him, needing to have him deep inside you. He takes his time, though, allowing you to adjust to the fullness and enjoy everything he's offering.
With a grunt and a final rock of his hips, he nestles his cock deep inside you. The feeling of him pressing against your walls makes your breath hitch and your chest heave. Logan sees the intense pleasure coursing through you and uses this chance to line himself up with your still wet core, rubbing his cock along its length to tease you for a quick moment before easily slipping inside you. The feeling is magnificent, your eyes roll back in your head and you visibly shiver. Your mind trails off into its own world, enjoying the way they’re thrusting into you and the simultaneous rush of pain and pleasure kissing a path through your veins.
You’ve never felt anything like this, your skin is on fire, burning from the inside out, as Victor holds you close with your back pressed to his chest and Logan’s finger digs into your hips. Your moans bounce off the walls, loud sounds fill up the silence of the room as both men move in search of a rhythm. Victor has his arms wrapped around your middle and his feet planted firmly to the floor to help him thrust up into you as he moans into your ears, low sounds that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “That’s it, taking my cock so well, frail” he growls into your ear.
You lift your eyes to focus on Logan standing over you, pressing your legs to your chest as he pumps into you, his head thrown back, eyes glazed over and sweat soaked hair laying on his forehead. His biceps clenching and tears of sweat running down his hairy chest, the hair now matted. Everything you’re seeing, feeling and hearing is keeping you at the edge of a precipice, waiting to dive over with the right thrust at the right angle. Logan drops his head, eyes meeting your own with a smirk that makes your blood feel close to boiling point and your skin feel you are standing too close to a pit of fire.
“It’s okay, baby, let it out. Scream for us.” Logan says as he presses a thumb against your lip, easing it from the clutches of your teeth.
He doesn’t stop there though, he shifts your body further up Victor’s chest and drapes your closed legs over his shoulder so he can lean forward and capture your lips with his. The kiss is lewd and sloppy, a tangle of tongues and spit with the soft popping of lips as they separate only to join once again, but it's when his hips press forward and his hard length presses painfully deep into you, that your dam breaks. This is the angle, this is the thrust you needed to have you free falling into an oblivion of immeasurable pleasure. They both feel it at the same time, your walls clench tighter locking them in, your entire body convulses and your head falls back against Victor's shoulder as you go pliant between them, pulling your lower lip between your teeth to ground yourself as immense pleasure courses its way through your veins like wildfire.
The moan that escapes your lips is like an aphrodisiac to both men and the way your body almost shuts down with them inside you sucking them in, squeezing them so tight it's almost painful, is like a bridge to a new world. Small bursts of white flash before your eyes as you feel yourself drifting off, floating, when the two men find their own release with low moans and grunts, both of them rocking into you at different, uncoordinated, paces.
You all lay like that for a while, catching your breaths and finding Earth once more as they caress your skin and stroke your hair, both of them whispering soft praises into your ears so your smile never leaves your lips. Logan moves first, pulling out of you slowly to get your water lying carelessly nearby. You finish it in about three large gulps before Victor pulls out of you gently, being careful not to hurt you.
You watch the glazed and awed expression on their faces as they both watch the way their cum leaks from your holes and something inside you stirs again, like an ember trying to become a flame once more. Clothes thrown around the workout room are gathered and they both help you get dressed, stopping occasionally to leave soft kisses over bruises that are left as reminders of the day’s session on your skin.
“I can’t believe we did that” you sigh as the three of you are sitting in a circle, just relaxing, taking in what happened. Victor snorts, “well maybe next time we can plan somewhere a little more comfortable, hmm?” he says, smirking. “Where I can do a lot more dirty things to ya’”. He says, coming closer to you. You lean in to give him a kiss, “sure, you’ve both got my number”
The three of you rise to get your bags, “I’ll keep that in mind” Logan says chuckling.
As you pull away from the fitness center, you make a note of two things: the first being to call them both in the morning and talk about where you go from here with your arrangement, and the second being to reach out to the gym to upgrade to a VIP membership, since the added benefits just might come in handy after-all.
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betyloca · 14 days
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Imagine: being the youngest member of team x with the same mutation as Victor but a different personality and is very protective of you.
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Stryker had gathered the members of team x to introduce them to the new member.
They were at the base waiting for Stryker with the new recruit, some of them were interested in what skills he would have and then there was Victor who was not interested.
Wade: I hope it's not someone else like Victor, otherwise I'll decapitate myself with my sword.
Logan: Don't say stupid things.
The doors opened revealing Styker with a teenager next to him, he was wearing a leather jacket and pink sunglasses with his hair painted blue.
Stryker: she is the new member of the team
Wade: It's a game, right?
Fred: It's a girl.
Y/N: Who the hell are you calling girl?
you said making yourself at him but Stryker stopped you by putting an arm in front of you.
stryker: she is going to be with us she has the same mutation as Victor
Logan and Victor turned to see you, the others were in shock.
Wade: Okay, I'm going to get my sword.
They thought you would be just like Victor, good thing that only in mutation he was cold and chilling and you, on the other hand, were very outgoing and mischievous, you always got in trouble for making jokes with Wade.
On missions, Victor always had you as a companion. You thought he didn't like you. Every time you spoke to him, he only responded with a grunt.
On a mission a soldier had cornered you, you were on the ground very tired from running so much, he had pointed his gun at you.
soldier: damn phenomenon I have you
You closed your eyes waiting for the impact of the bullet but it never came. You opened your eyes seeing Victor holding the man by the neck.
Victor: You think it's a big deal to point a gun at a child, that makes me sick.
He said, digging his claws into the soldier's neck, killing him.
I turn to see you approaching
Victor: can you stand up?
You didn't answer. He bent down and took you into his arms. You complained because you didn't want me to help you.
Y/n: put me down, I can walk alone.
Victor: You can't even stand and you want to walk.
Y/n: I can crawl
Victor: how stubborn you are, girl.
He said as he walked, you growled at him in defeat as you rested your head on his shoulder letting the exhaustion consume you.
He looked at you smiling a little as he walked to the base.
Victor: Who would you have turned out to be so stubborn, little kitten?
He said, bringing you closer to him to protect you from the cold.I was never going to admit it but I was worried about you on all the missions you were together.
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void-my-warranty · 1 month
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💖 Victor Creed takes you out for Valentine's Day 💖
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It's really quite a shock when he brings it up, because he's so people-shy that you haven't been out much in a romantic kind of setting. It's not that he's people-shy in the usual sense, where he's scared of his image or what people think of him. He is quite literally the boogeyman, and you're pretty sure no one has intimidated him in about a hundred years.
But it's different, when he's with you. When his only purpose is to show you off and let you have your fun, while every single person takes notice of your relationship. It's one thing to be stared at for being an enormous mutant, but it's just different when you're the one getting the rude head swivels and whispers of, "Omg look at them." His only consolation is that you can't hear it like he can, that you don't notice the energy shift and the sour cloud of disgust that's suddenly in the air. He tries to make the most of it for your sake, but inevitably you sense his discomfort and finish your dinner quickly so that you can get him out of the public eye.
So when it's Valentine's Day and he tells you he's taking you out, you feel a little bad. Part of you wants to ask if he’s sure, if he’d rather do your usual wine-and-dinner at home thing, but you don’t. The only thing worse than your relationship being judged in public is him thinking you’re embarrassed to be out with him. You refuse to put that concept in his head, so you give him an excited smile and go get ready.
He’s wearing his usual for when he’s with you, something perfectly ordinary and bland and blend-in-able, as if anyone could possibly overlook him. You think vaguely about trying to find somewhere that no one would think twice about seeing him, so he could feel like he belongs for once. Maybe a strongman convention or something. Shit, no, that would still seem like you’re trying to hide him.
It’s kind of a long drive to wherever-it-is you’re going, but you don’t mind because he has his hand on your leg, fingers running slow up-and-downs on the inside of your knee. Every now and then he tickles you lightly with his claws, and smiles at the road when you try to push him away, unable to peel his fingers off without cutting yourself. He seems relaxed today, so you don’t worry as much as you usually do. It’ll be fun.
It turns out he rented one of those boats-on-the-river things, with only a few crew members who have surely been well-bribed for the way they’re silent backdrops to the evening. The boat is strung with lights and there are some flowers on the table, the kind you like, with a few baby’s breath and greenery in between.
You know he’s waiting for your excitement and surprise at all this, but you can’t help but look around, mentally calculating the cost of this evening and struggling to imagine yourself worthy of it. This is something that like, high class ladies get to do. This is ABC’s The Bachelor type of shit, not meant for some random person he basically found in a dumpster, like yourself.
“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tilting your head up for a kiss. “Thank you.”
You can see in his eyes that he knows something is holding you back, but he doesn’t ask. He gives you a quick peck and you can practically feel his shoulders tighten, wondering what he did wrong that has you so introspective.
You’re the one self-conscious tonight. You feel like the staff are surely confused, wondering why a guy who can afford this would waste it on you. You’re not good-looking enough to be a sugar baby, not smiling enough to be an escort, not designer enough to be wealthy. If you had known that this was his surprise, you would’ve been able to brace yourself for it, drain your bank account to prepare. But as it is, you’re blindsided and trying to process these feelings of inadequacy while trying not to let it show.
You get through dinner somehow, being reduced to lame small talk because you can’t exactly talk about him with people around, and you’re far too gone with anxiety to talk about yourself. You hate that you’re spoiling this whole thing, you desperately wish that you could just turn off this part of your brain and pretend to be someone you’re not. But he’d know, if you did that. He always knows.
Finally your dishes are taken away, and he pulls you off to the seating area which has a nice loungey daybed that fits both of you. Because you’re quite aware of the movements of the staff, you notice that they’ve all gone below deck, except, hopefully, whoever is driving the boat. There’s a nice, soft melody playing from a speaker somewhere, and when Victor pulls you against his side, you breathe him in and feel his muscles relaxing for the first time that night.
“How long can we sit here before we have to head back?” You whisper, not wanting to waste the very expensive moment.
“Shhh,” is all he says, pulling you up against his ribs so that you’re half-draped over his chest.
You look up at him and suddenly realize that you’ve had this all wrong. You don’t need to get his money’s worth out of this by spending every second looking at the city lights and enjoying the movements of the boat. It’s not about the fucking boat. You’re supposed to be relaxing with him, this whole thing is so you can focus on each other, because everything else is already taken care of.
That realization finally gives you permission to exhale. “Oh,” you breathe, feeling yourself go lax in his arms and letting a real smile break across your face. You’re allowed to enjoy it, by enjoying him.
He kisses you until you’re drunk on it. Until you’re so focused on the intertwining of your energies that you barely even remember where you are, or what could possibly matter besides the warm glow expanding in your chest. It’s like he’s tucked you into a shadowy little corner of a building where no one could ever see, and now you get to kiss him as long as you want. You get to whisper little things to each other and feel his claws on your neck, in your hair, touching you the way he’d never dare to do if you were actually in public, not because it’s sexual but because it’s intimate.
The public would never understand how his claws feel to you, when they slide across your skin like this. They feel like acceptance and trust, and they’re so uniquely him that if you lost all other senses, you could still feel them and know you’re safe. There will be no wall punching or TV smashing or egotistical demands of your time or your body, because it’s just Victor, and you’re precious to him in a world where he was never welcome.
“Thank you,” you whisper into his neck, twining your fingers into his lethal ones. “I love it”.
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Kinktober Day 22: Bondage- Victor Creed
Summary: You and Victor have fun with some rope and a little game
Word count: 1, 407
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Tension began to form in your body as the position the ropes forced you into began to hurt. You tried not to squirm too much as Victor circled you. He has a devilish smirk on his face as he could see and smell how desperate you were for him. Your eyes were covered by a blind fold and a gag in your mouth. Though you couldn’t see him, you could hear his heavy boot steps.
Suddenly his steps came to a halt as you heard a chair being scraped across the floor. Next came the sound of his heavy body taking it’s place on the chair. Suddenly you shuddered with arousal as the knuckle of one of his clawed fingers grazed the length of your soaked pussy.
“You’re so desperate for me, aren’t kitten? Just want me to fuck you’d already.” He taunted you, the speed of his finger never increasing.
You can’t help but let out a desperate muffled moan at his action and words, your sounds making him chuckle darkly.
“Look so pretty tied up for me. I know you’ve been trying to be a good girl, trying to stay still for me, but I love when you squirm. Come on, kitten, squirm for me, try to break free.” He ordered, loving to see just how weak and submissive you could be in comparison to him.
Wanting to be good and follow his orders, you began to move your bond body, twisting and pulling where you could. Both you and Victor knew that it was hopeless and that your weak squirming wouldn’t do anything to the strong rope or the expert way they had been tied. You made sure to huff and moan out in your play attempt of escape, knowing he loved it when you played into the fantasy.
Your display making him moan out, knowing he was aroused by your bound struggle. Once you started pushing your ass and pussy out and towards him in your performance you heard his zipper being drawn and the sound of skin being worked. From the way he moaned and grunted you could tell he was touching himself, getting off to your struggle.
His movements stopped as he chuckled, now moving to sit in front of you on your shared bed. Removing your blindfold you can now see him shirtless in nothing but his boxers, a darker patch in the front, no doubt from his pre cum.
You made sure to give him begging eyes and wiggled a bit more as his palm held your cheek and his clawed thumb grazed your jutted lip. You knew he loved how you played along with his fantasy, tying you up and you both acting as captive and captor. He loved the game and you loved the way he fucked you from it.
“Such a pretty little fawn and you’re all mine. No escape for you, little one. Can’t wait to fuck your tight little pussy.” He tells you with malicious sweetness.
Playing along you begin to struggle even harder, trying hard to beg through your gag.
“Ah-ah-ah, no begging, kitten. You’re gonna take my cock and you’re gonna like it.” He growls as he pulls your hair harshly, forcing your head back.
He lightly slaps the side of your face and you try not to moan, wanting to stay in this little fantasy. Though Victor was a dangerous man and sometimes both of your kinks could get a bit dark, he never actually likes hitting you hard, even if you beg him to.
“Gonna take your gag off now and you’re gonna be a good girl and not scream.” He warns, his eyes becoming dark as his hand wraps around your throat.
With the gag now removed you take in a deep breath and really start to play along.
“Please sir, please let me go, I won’t tell anymore. Please don’t fuck me, I’m still a virgin. Please.” You falsely beg, both of you loving the layers you add to this game.
“Oh fuck I love a virgin pussy. Gonna be all nice and fresh for me. It’s gonna hurt too and I won’t be gentle. I’ll have you screaming from my cock, little one.” He taunts you, his hand back around your throat, slightly tighter this time.
Whimpering, you roll your eyes to the back of your head, loving the way his power turns you on.
“Maybe you’ll like that. Want to get fucked by daddy’s big cock? Be his good little girl.” His taunts continued as his hand reached over you to toy with your clit.
You couldn’t help the moan that escaped as his finger finally made contact with your throbbing clit. He’d been teasing you this whole time and to finally feel him touch where you needed him most was breathtaking. Desperate and loud moans escaped as your bond form pushed into his fingers, desperately trying to get more friction.
“Oh you are a dirty little girl, kitten. Just want to be touched so badly. Everyone thinks you’re a good little girl but we both know better don’t we?” His voice making you start to reach your peak even faster.
“No, no, no. I am a goood giirl. Aaahh. Pleeeaasse.” You managed to moan out, wanting to play along but unable to stop your body from reacting to how good it felt.
“Yeh you’re gonna be good at taking my cock.” He laughs as his fingers retract and he gives your sensitive pussy a light slap, making a loud yelp leave your body.
Quickly he removes his underwear and takes his spot behind you, lightly grazing the head of his cock along your folds.
“You ready for daddy’s cock, kitten?” He asks as his large head makes its way to your entrance.
“No please, youll hurt me. I can’t take your cock.” You falsely plead, your hips thrusting towards his body giving you away.
Chuckling he leans his body over yours, his hot breath tickling your neck as he whispers into your ear.
“Scream as loud as you need to, little one. No one will hear you out here.” He falsely taunts, knowing that it was more of a reassurance to you.
Straightening up once again he roughly grabs onto your hips as he thrusts in all the way, his large size causing you the scream out in pleasure and a little pain. You were no virgin but with Victors size it still caused a little pain sometimes.
He wasted no time in picking up the pace and starting to fuck you rough and hard. You couldn’t help the loud moans and screams as he filled you up, his harsh thrusts forcing you further into the bed each time.
“This is daddy’s pussy now, kitten. Ruining your little virgin fucking pussy for anyone else. You belong to me now!” He declares, accentuating his point with harsh thrusts.
The sounds that leave your mouth are nothing less than pornographic as he thrusts into you harder and harder. It didn’t take long before you could feel yourself reaching your peak, the familiar warm tingling feeling starting to build up once again.
“Are you gonna cum on daddy’s cock? I feel your pussy grabbing me, kitten. Come on then, milk daddy’s cock, make him cum deep inside you.” He encouraged, one hand leaving your hip to reach down and rub your clit.
With the added pressure on your clit, it all became too much. You let out a deep scream as your bound body shook and wakes with your orgasm running through your body.
As your body shuddered, Victors grip on you intensified as he gave you a few more harsh thrusts before he let out a loud moan, cumming deep inside you.
Both you a Victor stayed that way for a while as you both started to catch your breaths. Gently he pulls himself out of you, all traces of his roughness gone.
With a clean wet cloth he cleaned you off, gently as to not hurt you. Next came your ropes, kissing your sweet skin each time a piece of rope was removed, telling you how well you did between each kiss.
Once you were fully free from your bounds, Victor laid you down gently on the bed.
“I’m gonna run a bath for you, sweetheart. I’ll be back in just a moment. Did so well for me.” He gently coo’s as he kisses your temple.
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lildemonsuccubus · 6 months
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When he’s a dominant but in a silent way and smells good 🤤
“Oooo daddy please.”
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montewave · 5 months
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Victor Creed as Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit?
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Here's the lineart if you wanna have a go at coloring him. Just tag/credit me when you're done!
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Does Victor Creed appreciate your fascination with monster cocks or is he annoyed his isn’t enough?
Haha! A return to this little series of bad dragon inspired sex toy escapades.
Warning: this one gets a bit breedy.
Victor Creed doesn't give a shit. He tells you this, he tells himself this, hell he'll tell the whole damn world he doesn't give a shit that you're into some monsterfucking bullshit. He knows he is 'laying pipe' as you so eloquently told him. He knows that when you two fuck it's a goddamn fucking experience.
But he doesn't fucking understand. And he refuses to admit that when he catches you reading something with some fucking werewolf on the cover that he acts more beasty in bed. That he will growl more and be a bit less afraid to use his teeth and strength to make you break apart into a billion beautiful pieces that he can put back together.
So after a week of you being completely absorbed in that dumb book, he breaks. He looks up fucking werewolf dildos. Victor shouldn't have been surprised by the amount of them he found but he was. He needed to know what he was competing with even if it was fucking fake.
But he finds something a little better. He finds a wearable. Victor doesn't even think. He selects the bigger size, but they've only got in this glittery baby blue colour. He hits buy now before he can think too hard about it. It arrives quickly, the box is discreet. You don't even think twice before handing it to him and going back to your book.
When he catches you squirming a little, smells your sweet as pie arousal fucking wafting through the air, he knows it's time. He gets the thing on, the weight of it making his cock bob harder, heavier against his thigh as he comes up behind you on the couch. Victor purrs in your ear.
"What's got you all worked up, kitten?"
His eyes scan over the page. The word breed makes his eyes cross a little. Instinct takes over. He grabs your hips and tosses you into the position he wants, your ass up, face buried in the couch cushion. Breed. He doesn't prep you, there is lube from putting on the wearable still slicking up the silicone, making the fat knot shiny. He fucks you deep and hard, but always stops before the knot can push inside your pretty hole.
"That what you want? Want me to bred your cunt? Want me to mate you?"
Your little nod nearly sends him over the edge.
"Then take my fuckin' knot, kitten."
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The Great British Bake-Off AU!
Yes, this is happening. So a little while ago, I got inspired by this shitpost:
The OG question was sent to @kiatheinsomniac and then bounced to @asscrackcreed from whom I shamelessly have stolen this idea. So shoutout to them I guess.
It was the sign that I needed to write headcanons for the Great British Bake-Off AU. Ngl, I do have a soft spot for this show. It kept me sane when I had to spend a month bedridden during my illness.
Anyway, On your marks? Get, set, bake!:
Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
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Originally from Syria, he moved to the UK with his parents as a child. Altaïr learned to bake in the home economics class and took a liking to it. He lives in Leicester with his wife Maria and two sons, Darim and Sef. When he's not baking, he's a book illustrator and stay-at-home dad.
While baking, he likes to use earth-flavored spices like nutmeg, vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom, sumac, and mace. He enjoys using orange and lemon zest in his baking too.
Altaïr's strongest side is the technical challenge, and his weakest side is pastry construction. He can make beautiful patterns to decorate his bakes but can't do creative structures. It'll always end up as sth like a square. 
He is one of the calmest bakers on the show. Everything is perfectly planned and tried out multiple times before the challenge. Altaïr doesn't go into a panic mood while under pressure, or at least he doesn't show it.
His signature recipe is cinnamon walnut cake.
Ezio Auditore
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Ezio learned how to bake from his mom, and cooking together was their bonding activity when he still lived in Italy. He's a banker living in Edinburgh. When he's not baking he participates in all free-to-air cooking game shows. 
Unsurprisingly Ezio is a master in the cream department (nothing sexual about this sentence.) He likes using cream, mascarpone, meringue, and egg whites. White, fluffy, and puffy!
Ezio likes deep and slightly bitter additions to his cakes, like coffee or chocolate. He always balances them out with the perfect amount of sugar. It's not too sweet, but you can still taste the deep flavors.
His signature bake is ricotta cheesecake with coffee. He does have more Italian classics in his repertoire, like Torta della Nonna and Torta Paradiso.
He's a very emotional contestant who would cry if something goes wrong (because it's NOT just a cake!) He's very harsh on himself and tends to exaggerate his mistakes. His baking has to be perfect. Otherwise, he'll be dissatisfied with it. He's loud and a show-off in front of the cameras, so the public loves him, and the producers love him.
Connor Kenway
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Connor, though born in the USA, currently lives in London. He works as a home health nurse in Camden (I picked Camden because it's where the Kennway Mansion is ) for a man named Achilles. He bakes to relax after work, and his numerous friends are big fans of his goods.
Due to his job, Connor is good at all the physics and chemistry related to baking. He knows how to structure his bakes and what temperature of the chocolate is the best for the best glossy effect. Things like this.
He's the super competitive baker. He's in the show to win and won't accept anything less than the finale three. His determination is sometimes scary as if he wanted to murder someone who killed his family.
Connor's signature bake is something typically American with a twist. It is a recipe connected to his roots, but a look into the future too. I'd say it's pistachio, pecans, and pumpkin NY-Style cheesecake.
Connor likes to mix tradition with modern ideas but still keeps them quite conservative. There's a fine line between a modern twist and a  baking blasphemy to him, and he tries to balance it out. 
Edward Kenway
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He is a single dad of two, living and working in Swansea as a shipwright. He's an ex-sailor who used to work in the British West Indies. Edward started to bake eight years ago as a pastime with his now teenage daughter Jeniffer after her mother died. When he's not baking he likes to sail with his children and friends. 
His specialty is in the West Indies bakes. Brown sugar and rum are his favorite ingredients, and his signature bake is a burnt sugar essence sponge cake. He likes to use juicy fruits like pineapple or mango in his cakes too.
Edward is the contestant who should add one tablespoon of rum according to the recipe but pours half of the bottle instead.
He's the chaotic baker. His section in the cooking tent always looks like something exploded there.
He's the "I don't want to be the first baker to leave the tent" kind of contestant. He didn't sign up because he believes he's the best, but:  "If I'm not the last, that's a victory to me" kind of guy.
Arno Dorian
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Arno is from Paris but works and lives in London's most posh Royal Borough - Kensington and Chelsea. He's an actor and a ballet dancer. Arno is an artist and a perfectionist. He likes to express himself, and baking is yet another way to do it.
Arno is an expert on anything related to fruits. Jam, marmalade, or addition of fruits to cream or decoration. He likes to use flowers too.
His strong side is the visual aspect of his bakes. He can make the most creative, baked constructions, but they often lack stability. He can make a flying plane cake that looks real, but it'll fall apart way too soon.
Lavender and blueberry meringue cake is the staple recipe of this baker. However, his mother's recipe apfelstrudel is to die for, and it saved him from elimination.
He is a bit dramatic and a natural performer, but he's not as dramatic as Ezio. He still is dramatic.
Jacob Frye
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He is the youngest baker in the tent. Jacob learned how to bake from his grandma in Crawley. Jacob lives in Whitechapel with his partner and a newborn son Emmett (Canon Jacob had to be a young parent if Lydia was born in 1893 when Jacob was 46. Emmett's name comes from the list of known British Assassins used by the Templar Isabelle Ardant and a fanbase theory that he's Jacob's son.) He works with at-risk youth in a Youth Centre as a Mentor/caretaker and is a football (soccer) coach of their team, "The Rooks."
He's the one who adds controversial ingredients like beetroots to his sponges to make them moister. He can come across as pretentious, but he's just an unconventional baker. 
Jacob is the kind of contestant who everyone thinks is going to be eliminated, but he manages to get by and wins the "star of the episode" title in the next episode. You never can tell how he's going to perform in the show.
His signature bake would be something random that nobody expects, like Medovnik cake.
He's the "started baking, had a breakdown, bon appétit!" kind of contestant.
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Sometimes Love Stops In Its Tracks
You love your man, but sometimes, it can lead to a breaking point.
Includes: Victor Creed (Sabertooth), Loki, Thor, Steve Rogers (Captian America), Bucky Barnes (Winter Solider), Bruce Wayne (Batman), Clark Kent (Superman), Arthur Curry (Aquaman), Orm Marius, Joker, Duncan Vizla (Polar)
MAIN MASTERLIST
Quill Imagine
Victor Creed
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Living the way of mutants and humans was a thin line to follow. Victor felt that he was an animal, proud of his lone wolf ways, finding solace in the hidden corners of the forest around the globe as he traveled from one mission to another. Being on the side of power that wanted to bring respect to mutants, even if their ways were questionable at the very least. And now, it was gone, traded from a role as a teacher, educating younger mutants, having battle quips with some of the twerps that think they are brighter than the 200-year-old Sabertooth. Little things like that stuck in his brain, bits and pieces that he most of the time brought home to his lover and partner. Which, after a while, bred new arguments and fights. Something which both sides did not like. Tension bubbled, and Victor felt himself dive back into his ways of thinking.
'You would NOT understand my pain!!'
'Of course, I do not know since you don't communicate anymore. Victor, please, this has been going on for way too long; talk to me! ...Tell me so I can understand.'
'Even if I told you your human brain is too stunned to comprehend.'
'What?! Why are you talking like this? Do not talk to me like that.'
'And what are you going to do?! You are no match for me.' with that, Victor knew he had crossed a line he didn't think he would cross, ever.
'I will not be treated like this! You are on your own now.'
You spoke, starting to distance yourself away from the raging mutant. Placing permanent distance between each other, leaving love to stop in its tracks.
Loki Laufeyson
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For him, his heritage was a silent trigger in his mind. Whenever his blue skin showed itself unexpectedly, his manners would shift, not speaking to anyone not even his love. Which would, in return, create silence so loud it could break your heart. And it did. The silence brought no mature way to deal with it. You tried to comfort him, offering hugs, kisses, and soft touches to the broken god, but each time at the offer, Loki would pull away and even sometimes roar at the devotion. 
'Do not touch me! How many times do I have to tell you?!'
'I am just...trying to help.' The last part can be only whispered at the raging man
'Do not help me. Leave me alone.'
Loki turns away, walking away as you tried to do it to your best ability, but if he wanted help, he would accept it. Maybe it was time to leave him...alone. Sometimes the best thing you can do is remove yourself from the situation and let love stop in its tracks.
Thor Odinson
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Thor fancied traveling, exploring new places, and new people, and having exhilarating adventures. Thor would leave on a whim sometimes, even most of the time, without saying where he is going or when he is coming back. Each time Thor would come back cheery as ever, retelling his stories to you with the same gleam, not understanding what he left behind and expects when he came back. You would communicate what you felt, from the sudden 180 from having him in youR arms to an empty apartment and waiting each day and night, wishing that this is the moment when he will come back. So when he came back, Thor did not read the room.
'Do you not like the story?'
With a heavy sigh, you hoped that it would be obvious. 'No-no, the story about you riding a giant goat sounds like great fun. But, Thor, do you know how I feel? Waiting for you here? Hoping that you will arrive, hoping that you will send a message that you are okay? At least that...'
Thor treks back, his eyes widening in puzzlement. 'I do not understand, dearest when I was in Asgard, my family would not grumble regarding my adventures.'
Relying back upon confusion from your side, they speak with a sharp tone, 'Thor...I know that. But this is not Asgard. This is our home. I know that your family got unfortunately reduced to myself, but what we have is a relationship. And our relationship should be based on communication. Therefore when you leave at the very least, very minimum, let me know.'
Thor took one more step back, feeling his confusion start to simmer. 'What do you mean? I thought that our bond was powerful.' Thor withdrew, looking at his lover.
'It IS strong, but this, like this, your last-second adventure, are things that can chip away at this life we have. I don't want that.'
Thor looks at you, seeing the ping of confusion on your face now 'I am a god. A god goes whenever the path takes them. My heart told me at that moment to go and explore a new corner of the realm. Experience a new life there, fresh cultures, exciting quests and help the less fortunate there, to let them know they have a god...' Thor started to ramble on his reasons for making such a bold move, and in a second, he struck in the wrong path '...explore new lovers there.'
What?
You and Thor look at each other, and you feel a small ping in your heart. Not wanting to say it out loud, but still going to walk in your truth. 
'While your heart told you to do all those things.... did it ever think of me and my heart?' Standing up, you spoke into the viscous silence that started to settle heavily on Thor's shoulders, 'Me and my heart won't take you back. Our love has stopped because of your adventures.' 
Steve Rogers
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Steve was continuously on a mission, rarely home. And when he was home, it was almost a designated time for him to do all the things he couldn't do back when he was living, meaning going to 1900s museums, dinners, activities, and so on... but one thing Steve was always stuck with was Peggy. More times than not, Steve would catch himself saying Peggy's name instead of yours. Which would create disharmony. Steve would play it off, hoping you would understand where he is coming from. Creating fights and blowouts as you were trying to get your point across to Steve. 
'Steve, I understand that Peggy was your girl then, but now I am here. Don't call her name when you call me. We don't even have similar names.'
'You are telling me to suppress an important part of my life. You, of all people, should understand what kind of pressure I go through when I am on a mission. So when I come here, I mostly blow off some steam, and my brain mixes everything. Hence, the name mixing.' Steve argued his point coming across less and less, dipping more into the black hole that was forming between the lovers. 'What if the roles would be reversed Steve, hm? What if I said my ex's name instead of yours?'
'Oh, for the love of god. Please, not that gender-role-reversal crap. Back in my day...'
'Stop!' It roared in Steve's ears, the way the word just shouted in his ear, halting his words.
'If your brain is still in the past. Then you can live through it by yourself. As much as I give myself to you and your activities so you can "relive" your "golden days," even though you have been willing and ready to make a life together, you still want to go back. And that is completely fine, but you could have told me that and not strung me along all this time.' 
Steve sat back, hearing and feeling the wave of emotions falling into a black hole, growing more and more and very soon encapsulating Steve, losing himself forever. 
Bucky Barnes
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Bucky consistently feared everything and everyone. Not a lot of moments in his lifetime offer solace and peace. But you tried your best to give him a piece of the comfort and love you felt for him every day. Bucky tried to dissociate from everyone, including you, and the moments you shared with him, cooking, knitting, reading, you name it, his brain was always halfway turned off, and you really can not blame him. You tried your best to understand the poor soul; you really did! But when he was zoned like that, he tended to be more jumpy and scared, resulting in a fiery shout directed at you.
'Dammit! You scared me!'
Turning into a frigid zone, no talking, no touching for 1 hour, as Bucky instructed. And that rule made it hell for you; you thrived off of physical touch! 
'I am just saying that I am here, Buck. You do NOT have to be alone. You have me, for crying out loud.'
'You would not understand what I went through. And with all my scars, I am fearful how I will live like this.'
'I can not phantom what you went through, Bucky. But the reason we are in this relationship is to be with each, enjoy each other's company, touch each other, and just- just let everything be, no past, no future-just us; together.'
Getting your point into his thick skull, Bucky's eyes winded in anger and misinterpretation. 'So what you are saying is to forget myself. To be no one?! To be just an insignificant speck on this planet and forget my hurdles and trauma. Like you?!'
Looking at him, you felt the ripple of sadness coloring your veins; there was no way Bucky thought that about you, someone who he loved, cherished, and most importantly trusted, was he?
'Is-is that what you think about...me?! '
'Yes!' He boomed the answer without a second thought, sealing this chapter for the both of you. Looking at him, you come close to him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek respond in a hush, loud enough to be engraved in his brain.
'Remember this kiss, because it is the last sincere thing you will feel. Until you come to terms with yourself, James.'
With that, you left the room knowing that the best option was to leave him if he wished so letting your love stop in its tracks.
Bruce Wayne
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Bruce always thought that he wasn't made for relationships, the man dressed like a bat, for goodness sake. Therefore, when you two got together, you raised Dick from a small baby boy with the fattest cheeks that were just screaming to be pinched to a teenager going through his phase of 'begging secretive,' although I don't know how much you can get secretive if you are a superhero and being mentored by Batman. A few years perished, you would have thought that Batman was more open to having a partner in his house, not ours, his. But no. Bruce would hole up in his cave and not talk to anyone, not even Alfred, if he was working on anything. And that fueled sleepless nights resorting for you to give him the cold shoulder but masking it in front of Dick to appear as if everything is okay. Which in hindsight, would bite you in the ass when you would feel yourself crack under the façade. 
'Alfred? Why is Mom crying?'
'That... Master Richard is hard to explain. The best we can do is give her a hug and reassure her that everything is okay.'
The hug would help in a 'band-aid over a bullet wound' type of way, but nonetheless, it helped. What didn't help was Bruce and his stoicism. No matter what emotion you chuck at him or say, he would just stand coldly. 
'Bruce! Just come out of this forsaken cave. For one hour! For Dick! For me! For Alfred!'
'I told you. I have a case. I can not leave the cave just yet.' He spoke in a stern tone, not moving an octave higher or lower.
'You have been in here for 6 days. This is borderline madness. I forgot your touch.' You responded, feeling your body tremble with unhappiness and uprising anger. 'I have been nothing but patient, but nothing can make you move. I tried, I really, really, really tried. But you gave me nothing!'
Stepping away, you see Bruce's eyes dilate slightly at your discouraged-filled sentences, but now it is too late. As you were going up the stairs, Dick stepped out of the shadows looking at his father.
'Are you just going to stand there?'
Bruce looks at the boy feeling his heart twist in the same way yours was feeling your shared love stop in its tracks.
Clark Kent
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Clark moved on when Lois found a new guy to be with. By finding you. Being with you, making a life together, living together in Metropolis. Finding yourself with him. Clark was a sweetheart and still is, to the bone. But when you are such a sweetheart, there are bounds where you will trip up because of your niceness. For Clark, it would be the ability to say no to Lois when she calls for help. Be it a heroic save from a no-name villain to a minuscule task such as carrying furniture up 5 flights of stairs, where she moved in with her new boyfriend.
'Clark, you have to stop helping her so much.'
'I couldn't say no. When she asked me so nice-'
'She has a man! He can do all those things. You are my man!'
'What are you saying?! I should have let her plummet to death when she was falling?'
'That's not my point, Clark. What I am saying is... she is your past. I am your present.'
Clark stood up, hugging you gently, reassuring you with a soft touch, 'You have to understand that she will always be my past. Someone I still very much love.'
Hearing that you pushed him away, you felt a coil snap in your heart, nudging you in the direction where you opted you would not go. 'What?! Lois broke your heart and left you all alone to pick up the pieces, and you still love her?'
'She didn't know what she was doing. I told her how I felt, and we mended that.' More actions came to light 'When?! You never mentioned that to me. Clark... what are you hiding?!'
Clark moved away, seeing what effect all of this had on you, heartbreak in sight. 'Nothing! Just Lois and I talked it over and decided to move friends. Nothing more!'
Looking to the side, you could not see him anymore; your emotions got the better of you. 'You are saying that just now. Do you understand how much jealousy and insecurity I have to press down when I see you going to Lois first and not me? Have you tried to think how I would feel?! All the time, I was really supportive and understanding, but I am human, and my other emotions would boil if this continued, and it did. I gave you so much grace hoping you would understand by yourself. But you did, and look where we are now.'
Looking at him, you saw his eyes dim with hopelessness. 'So what are you saying? That we-' '-yes, we have no future. But maybe your past can help you pick up the pieces.'
Arthur Curry
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Arthur is a hunk of a man. He attracted people of all genders and orientations. He is a beef magnet. Arthur knew his charm, but he was oblivious to how it affected you. Whoever was flirting with Arthur, it made you a bit mad when Arthur would return the flirt even when you were with him.
#154th time
'Babe, if I am nice to the barmen, we will get free drinks.'
#484th time
'No worries, toots. The woman there is smoking hot, but I am still yours.'
Arthur tried to reassure you, but all that would fall on deaf ears by the time you saw it for the 500th time.
'Arthur, you have to stop. I am uncomfortable seeing you flirt with other people while I am with you.'
'When did I do that?' He would ask as if all of that did not happen 3 hours ago, 'You are messing with me, right?! You were flirting with the girl outside the bar while I was getting the car!' 
'Oh, that?! That doesn't count.' He retired, saying a small pfft.  
'Sorry? And when "does it count"?' You asked, feeling genuine curiosity mixed with rage
'Only when I get something free out of it.'
it took you a second to comprehend was he was saying and what he was speaking
'So you mean you do it all the time, but most of the time, you do it to gain something you can very easily buy?'
Arthur takes a second to realize and says deadpanned, 'Yes.'
Losing all hope in the merman before you, you just left, leaving him to his own consequences. Letting your silence speak louder than his words could ever, letting him know that your love has stopped in its tracks.
Orm Marius
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Orm never would have thought in a million centuries that he would leave his birthright of being a king to be with you. That decision weighed heavily on his shoulders and heavier on yours. As you were described to others as 'the reason Orm left him throne' sometimes it was spoken with a devoted ping but sometimes with a bitter punch. And that decision was not yours; it never was. It was his. Orm just wasn't ready to admit it. Creating a toxic atmosphere in your household. You were mostly quiet on the matter, hoping that Orm would digest it like an adult man, while Orm was boasting about his accomplishments in Atlantis and always ending with a bitter 'And now I am here.'
'Orm, if you feel that way. You are free to go. I am not some anchor that will keep you here against your will. Plus, we all know YOU chose to come here. I did not put a gun to your head and force you to come here. I had no problem having a long-distance relationship. YOU were the one who wanted to escape that throne and those responsibilities.'
Orm strode to you, feeling disassociated with himself. 'I beg your pardon! The reason I came here was to be with you! Because I love you.'
'I know you do. But every time we talked about your royal duties, you always mention what kind of mental toll they had on you, so much that you started to lose your hair from the stress.' 
Orm looked at you as if a film playing before him; you were right. But he was not ready to fall back.
'You are the one at fault!' He argued, trying to stick to his points that stood on wobbly legs. 'Me?! How??!' You rebutted, ready to stand your ground firmly. 'You and your heritage! Why did you have to be a surface dweller?! Why did you even have to be born?!' He screamed at you, unleashing the avalanche he formed 
'How-how can you say that? You said you loved me moments ago,and now you don't want me on this earth?'
Pacing back, you turn towards the balcony overlooking the ocean, just a few steps ahead. Opening the balcony door, you step aside, saying with a bittersweet sound, 'Here! You can go! I won't hold you back, Orm. It was never my intent to make you so miserable. But when you realize that I was right, don't come back running to me.
Joker(Suicide Squad)
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J never intended to have you in his life, someone so typical. Not corrupted, not willing to rob a bank or squishy an ant. You were an angel, and he wanted to corrupt you, but then he knew it would lose parts that made you so distinct and memorable to him. J never tortured you or forced you to do anything. But he did leave you alone while he wreaked havoc in the city. Locking you in the "safe" castle prison while he rampaged Gotham. At first, it wasn't a big deal; after a while, it was like a panic attack that you had to suffer alone in the ample lustrous space. 
'J, can you not lock me next time. It really weighs heavy on me. Please stop.'
'Angel, you being locked here is for your own good. What if someone tries to take you away?'
'And me being locked away will keep them away?'
'You are right! From tomorrow I will add a safe and code lock on the doors and windows.'
'No! J! You can not do this to me! Every time you leave, you lock me in. I feel like I haven't been outside for days now.'
'It was exactly 6 days.'
'J, you have to let me out! I am not someone who is okay with staying in here.'
J started to laugh uncontrollably, looking at you like you are the crazy one 'You are acting like you didn't know, pet. HA! Did you seriously think you would not have some "conditions" to be with me???!!!'
Looking back at him, it dawned on you just now. J wasn't the one going mad, you were. Being locked up in here like some twisted life routine. You had to cut this twist now and forever. 
'I do not wish to be with someone who gives me solitude J.' 
Standing up you walk out of the room, hearing J yelling at you, 'Do NOT forget how good of a life you had with me and in this golden cage!' 
Trying to assemble his thoughts, J halts all his actions feeling his love stop.
Duncan Vizla
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Duncan looked at the snow-covered window watching as you walked out of your truck and into your shared home with the retired assassin. 
'Hey, Donut! I'm back. I found the cutest dog ever, a mix of poodle and french bulldog; his name was Mocha. So freaking cute.'
As you explained your day to Duncan, he asks you, cutting the cheery atmosphere short 'No one was following you, dove? Did you check your surroundings?'
A little stumped at the change of atmosphere you spoke with a tint of lie 'Yes. all clear.'
Duncan raises an eyebrow seeing your smile drop 'Liar.'
'Fine, yeah. I didn't check my surroundings but I was extremely careful and I only went to the famers market and petted Mocha.'
Duncan sighs loudly filling the room with his anxiousness. 'It was fine and-' 'It's not fine. You could have been hurt. Someone could have taken you.'
Placing your hand on his you try to soothe him 'IT WAS fine, Ducan. No one is after me. No one is after you. You can relax. We are together here now.'
'You do not understand my fear. Every time I walk out I feel their eyes on me and I do not want you to feel that. I just want you to be safe.'
'Duncan, and I am. When I am with you. Please calm down and let us just enjoy this day.' you talked to him, trying to reason with him but not much was going up his walls.
'Do not downplay my emotions. You would not understand the fear I have to harbor to keep it away from You. To keep you happy and live in this fantasy.'
'What?! How can you say that?? All my feelings towards you are sincere Duncan, I have told you many times that we can talk whenever and about whatever you wanted. I gave myself to you and help you overcome your past life.'
You rebutted looking at him, trying to get your points across and into his thick skull.
'Don't downplay me, little girl! You watch who you are talking to.' Duncan shouted, making you come to a standstill. 
How could he talk to you like that? And downsize you to a small girl. You aren't helpless. You aren't dumb, far from it. You are more than capable of walking away right this instant. 
'You will not talk to me like that Duncan. And you will not minuscule me. I do not care what you have gone through if you will tear me like that, and talk to me like that. No one will talk to me like that and you will finally learn that what you say hurts far more than a weapon can.'
Walking out, you look at the snowstorm coming in, sealing your fate far away from Duncan.
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theaawalker · 4 months
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Fandoms I'll Write For
Marvel (not Iron Man, Starlord, Loki, Thor, Doctor Strange, or Hawkeye, Drax, Victor Creed, Antman, Adam Warlocke, AG's Spiderman, or Cyclops)
DCEU (not Peacemaker, Killer Croc, JL's Joker, RP's Batman, or anyone from Gotham except Jerome/Jeremiah Valeska)
Scream Queens (not Chad Radwell or Pete Martinez)
American Horror Story (only Murder House, 1984, Freakshow, and Cult)
Hunger Games (not Gale, Maymitch, President Snow, or Cato)
The Maze Runner (not Ava Paige, Jorge, or Janson)
My Little Pony
Once Upon A Time (not Hook, David, Rumple, Neal, Peter Pan, or Zelena)
Pacific Rim (not the sequel)
Twilight (not Seth, Edward, Carlyle, or Jasper)
Stranger Things (not Will Byers, Billy Hargrove, or Jim Hopper)
IT (2017, 2019, and tv series) (not Henry Bowers or Pennywise)
Jurassic Park/World (not Owen Grady or Ian Malcolm)
Jumanji (1997 & 2017)
Zathura (not the dad or robot)
Stand By Me (not Ace Merrill)
Girl, Interrupted (not Jared Leto's character)
The Black Phone (not the Grabber or Mr. Blake)
Teen Wolf (the film & series)
Equestria Girls
Teen Wolf (not Peter, Jackson, Theo, or Derek)
The Office (not Jim, Ryan, or Dwight)
Now You See Me (not Dylan Rhodes or Merritt McKinney)
Descendants (not Chad, Harry, Ben, Jay, or Carlos)
Sky High (not Zach or Speed)
Percy Jackson films (not Luke Castellan)
The Umbrella Academy (not Five)
TMNT (live action ver. only)
Dance Moms (not the final season)
Ender's Game
Wednesday (not Xavier, Tyler, or the Dean)
Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse (not Mentor Peter Parker)
Unbreakable (not Hedwig or Dennis)
Big Hero 6
The Black Mirror
Dynasty (not Culhane, Adam, or Blake)
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
Spy Kids
Sharkboy & Lavagirl
Clue, Knives Out, & Glass Onion
Back to the Future (not Biff), Breakfast Club (not Bender), Sandlot, Stand By Me (not Ace Merrill), Might Ducks, The Outsiders (not Dally, Two-Bit, Randy, Bob, Steve, or Darry)
I’m willing to write imagines for underage characters so long as there's no romance (examples: hang out with the Losers Club at the barrens; go shopping with Eleven and Max; play baseball with Finney and Bruce). I’m allowed to deny any request and the longest I should take ever to write one is about 2 weeks. I’ll write smut, fluff, angst, poly relationships, LGBTQ+, etc. Generally most of my x readers are female unless stated otherwise.
What I won’t write-
I won’t write anything to do with rape, bestiality, necrophilia, incest, romance with anyone younger than 18, gun play, anything about poo(sexually), anything about urine(squirting is fine considering it’s not technically urine), age gaps. See guidelines for more details.
Thanks for reading❤️
A.A. Walker
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drunkinchicago · 3 months
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coriolanus snow x lucy gray baird
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link: chapter 1, link: chapter 2, link: chapter 3 link: chapter 4 link: chapter 5, link: chapter 6
Chapter 7: bloodstream
Depollute me, pretty baby
Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream
Oh, dilute me, gentle angel
Water down what I call being grateful
Leith Ross
“Nothing was made by God for man to spoil or destroy.”
John Locke, Second Treatise on Civil Government
There was a time in my life where, if there was a heaven, I would’ve set fire to it.
Hozier
Monday morning began before sunrise, steam rising off of the clawfoot bathtub in Coriolanus’ bathroom. He was making a habit of this - scalding coffee, hot bathwater, biting his food long before it cooled, because why should he have to wait? Nothing melts Snow, he told himself, always challenging his boundaries, trying to imagine what an enemy would do to him so he could do it first.
Tigris hadn’t come home yesterday. Coriolanus was trying not to think about it, about the fact that she was the only other Snow left and that their relationship was undeniably scarce. She acted differently toward him and he could imagine several reasons as to why. He wasn’t the same person he’d been a year ago, and he’d be the first to admit it. Coriolanus wanted to blame this on his involvement in the Games, but that would be cheap. If he’d had a different tribute, he would’ve let them die and impressed Dr. Gaul in some other way, providing her with the same rich insight she so highly values. He was not afraid of the Games nor was he was disturbed by their conception. In fact, he was grateful for them and the many opportunities of its existence, allowing him to gloat his intelligence through his ideas. He was a Victor. That thirst for winning and power hadn’t been born into him by his assigned role as a mentor - he had been born with those traits. No, it wasn’t the Games that changed him. It was Lucy Gray.
There had been times where he fantasized about a life without their meeting, but it was a futile thought. When he thought of her and the ways she fit into his world, there was nothing but divinity. She had been the driving force for every decision that had landed him where he now stood, wealthier and more intelligent, reigning over his peers with his apprenticeship and tailored suits. He liked to convince himself that he invented Lucy Gray, that she wasn’t her without him, but he knew reality to be a much harsher truth that he scarcely entertained - Coriolanus was nothing without her.
Coriolanus stared at his hands beneath the surface of the bathwater, noticing how his fingertips were beginning to prune. Anxieties about the coming week were starting to ebb and flow through his mind, flitting around the edges of Lucy Gray shaped thoughts. The emotional high of her arrival was beginning to give way to the complexities that would come out of her being in the Capitol, the pressure of Dr. Gaul’s threats blurring the edges of his vision. He hadn’t heard from Dr. Gaul over the weekend, and she hadn’t assigned him any writeups at their last meeting. It was unnerving and irregular. Then again, his last assignment had been both lengthy and meticulous - perhaps they were due to review that first. Besides, Coriolanus wasn’t scheduled to see Dr. Gaul today anyway. He had a full day of courses at the University and intended to come home directly after to finish a philosophy paper. Had it been last week, he might have considered staying late at school to write it, sandwiched between Clemensia and Festus Creed at a crowded darkwood table. He enjoyed the library, craving the familiar grassy but sweet scent of the rotting books that the University catalog boasted - “from before the Dark Ages,” his professors would say, holding a tattered copy with yellowing pages as though it were holy. Everything must have been holy before the War, unjudged and impartial and tolerant. Coriolanus wished he could remember it, and wondered who he would’ve become if he hadn’t been choking on the taste of vengeance since grade school. He tried to imagine a softer version of himself, his frame drawn in charcoal pencil rather than sharp ink, bending at the will of others rather than breaking them. Would Lucy Gray like him more that way?
Lucy Gray. She was sleeping then, he imagined, her blanket pulled up to her perfect chin - how many times he had cupped it, rubbing his rough thumb against the smoothness of her face. Once in the meadow outside the buzzing fences of Twelve, he’d moved his hand down to neck, made confident by the sweltering heat and seclusion. Lucy Gray had smiled against his lips as he’d done it, daring him to press harder, to go further. Back then, he was preoccupied with the act of being gentle and good, caught up in the preciousness of her. But she had wanted him to, and instead, he’d moved his hand to the small of her back. She pulled away, insisting on getting back to the Covey for supper. Coriolanus hadn’t been able to tell if she was disappointed with him and was too nervous to ask. It was only a few weeks later that Lucy Gray gifted him with betrayal, reawakening the aggression he’d been swallowing every time they kissed. Since that’s how you like it, I can be harsher now, Coriolanus thought. I can hurt you in all the ways that feel good to you.
Coriolanus hesitated to grab his bath sheet as he stood, staring at himself in the mirror. He’d maintained the muscles that his Peacekeeper training had given him, stronger and leaner than any male in his year at the University. Insecurity turned on and off like the flicker of a dying bulb as he turned to the left side, the burn wounds that had become permanent scars on his back coming into view. He’d doused himself in ointments, oils, whatever he could find at the apothecary and pharmacy alike - nothing worked. They remained, a reminder of what would’ve killed him had Lucy Gray not been there to save him. Always a reminder.
Clothes, coffee, shoes, breakfast, messenger bag, call driver. His routine was just that - routine, monotonous. Today, he added a step and wrote out a menu of suggestions for Lucy Gray’s morning and afternoon meals. Breakfast: orange juice, quiche lorraine, sliced bananas, coffee with cinnamon, whatever else she wants. Lunch: gorgonzola salad with grilled chicken (perhaps add candied walnuts? Ensure she’s not allergic first). Before leaving, Coriolanus reread the note he’d left and underlined ‘not allergic’.
In the elevator, Coriolanus decided to cancel his call for the driver, opting to walk instead. This was what he once did, what he’d done for many years, back when his apartment smelled of cabbage and rat poison. It used to feel humiliating ducking through back alleys and scuffing his shoes, his only pair that was already a size too small. Now it was simply motivating, the perspiration soaking his shirt serving as a reminder of what he had been through and what he had risen above, pushing him onward as sweat danced between his shoulder blades.
-
Livia approached him during their lunch hour, an unpleasant interruption to Coriolanus’ green apple slices and Dostoevsky readings. He was sitting outside on a concrete bench that had been engraved with Panem’s emblem, the dips and ridges of the carved symbol digging into his back.
“Hi.” Livia was attractive enough to reductively be average - blonde, thin, attainable. She spoke in a gloating tone, contrived confidence brushed on like her eyeliner, which was thicker on her right eye.
“Hello,” Coriolanus replied, reluctantly shutting his book and bringing his hand over his eyes to shield the sun. The action sharpened Livia’s face before him, but made it no better. She still looked painfully regular, the daughter of a wealthy family who was convinced she was worth just as much as their revenue. She wasn’t.
“Why don’t you come out on the weekends with us?” Livia cocked her head, letting her curls fall over one shoulder.
Coriolanus didn’t have to ask who us was to know - Clemensia, Livia, Festus, Hilarius Heavensbee, Vipsania Sickle, whoever else he was forgetting. After the Games, the majority of the Mentors had remained close, gaining entry to the University and studying together in the same small groups they’d grown accustomed to at the Academy. Now that they were over the age of eighteen, Coriolanus’ classmates spent their weekends at nightclubs and other alcohol-affiliated outings in the Capitol, scandalously recounting the dramatics of such excursions throughout the school week. Coriolanus was noticeably absent and had no desire to attend. There wasn’t anyone for him at those events, no appeal in going. He planned to begin making appearances at the clubs only if Lucy Gray was booked for shows, anticipating the sight of her on stage again, making the knees of the crowd weak, his heart drumming against his chest knowing she was his. They could look, but they couldn’t touch.
“I’ve been tied up, I guess.”
Jarringly, Livia reached out to touch Coriolanus’ left wrist, examining it. “Funny, I don’t see any scars. No rope burn? Were you using cuffs?”
How desperate. He bet she thought he liked to fuck rough. Maybe he did. What would it matter to her? Coriolanus jerked his arm back sharply, embarrassed on her behalf. He wasn’t even sure how to respond.
Livia’s cheeks flushed as she observed Coriolanus’ disinterest. “I like you,” she hissed. “And you’d be stupid not to do something with that.”
Coriolanus blinked in return, not at all surprised by her shrill response. That’s who she was - loud, expectant, sneering, assuming that her opinion was remotely valued. It was true that any other boy would probably want her, but many had had her already, exchanging stories at lunch tables. Girls were jealous of her, comparing themselves to her designer clothing and routinely bleached roots. Coriolanus saw through this face. The traits that Livia thought she held - mysterious, trendsetting, likable - were characteristics that Lucy Gray possessed tenfold. And Lucy Gray wasn’t the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol. She was a girl from the Districts, if even that, natural and one-of-a-kind, created with an allure that couldn’t be replicated. That’s the kind of girl Coriolanus Snow wanted and deserved. It was entertaining to watch Livia be denied something she wanted - he imagined it must be a first.
“I’m not stupid,” Coriolanus said flatly before tossing an apple slice into his mouth.
Livia was already walking away, her skirt tight and unflattering, adding to the growing list of evidence that money can’t buy everything. “Come out this weekend, and we’ll see.”
-
When Coriolanus got into his driver’s car shortly after five, Strabo Plinth was in the backseat. It was a surprise, and a moderately unwelcome one at that. It had been a tense day riddled with assignments and he’d been unable to articulate himself when called on in his rhetoric course. Coriolanus felt off and wanted to get home, frustrated at the lack of instruction that came with obtaining your greatest desire. The combination of euphoria and lack of clarity that had come with Lucy Gray’s arrival was disconcerting. She would have to perform at shows, but when? He wanted to feel close with her again, but when? When would they share a room, when would she trust him the way she used to? They had so much to talk about in aims to understand what they'd done in each other’s absence. Was this eating her up the way it was him? The days were growing shorter as winter approached, the sun already beginning to set. It would be dark by the time he got home from school.
“Hello, Coriolanus,” Strabo said, adjusting his pinstripe tie. Coriolanus had never seen him in anything but a full suit.
“What’s this about?” Coriolanus wanted to cut to the chase, unable to play coy today. Strabo was unaffected by Coriolanus’ sharp comments, which made him all the more comfortable to make them.
The Avox driving the vehicle began to lumber forward as soon as Coriolanus slammed his door, the gravel of the cobble roads loud under the tires. For a moment Coriolanus worried this would be about Livia’s comment, already sick of the Cardews and their interest in him. He detested the notion of Strabo bartering him off like a show pony. He wasn’t something to choose, he was the one who made the choices. But that wasn’t what this was about at all.
“How’s your mail-order bride?” Strabo smirked, nudging Coriolanus with his shoulder as if they were brutish Capitol men gossiping about their boring wives, a role Strabo likely accomplished and one that Coriolanus hoped never to.
Mail order bride. The only word that stuck with Coriolanus was bride, an image of Lucy Gray in white grabbing him by the neck. “Lucy Gray is adjusting,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the hand sewn leather seat in front of him.
“She must be happy to be here, though. Must be easy enough to impress a little thing from Twelve.”
Coriolanus scoffed. “You are aware that she left me, aren’t you? I forced her here, so no, she doesn’t seem entirely happy at the moment.”
“People are fickle creatures when weighed down by the pressures of what they’ve been taught to believe. Patriotism is as rampant in Twelve as the dust of coal, scarring the faces of those worn out people. A very problematic place, really.”
“She’s not from District Twelve, she’s of the Covey.”
“All the same out there, isn’t it? Bleeding together like ink - all the same.”
If it’s all the same, what are you? Coriolanus wanted to say, irony being the richest aspect of Strabo’s perspective. District Two and District Twelve, don’t they bleed just alike too? “I’ve asked you this before, but I’ll say it again. Is this wrong to you? Are you upset with this?”
Strabo thought it over, his index finger tapping his right knee methodologically, following the same pace. “I’d simply like to be informed of your life and the decisions you have taken upon yourself to make, as is my right. Don’t you agree?”
Coriolanus could feel his blood pulsing, throbbing like something swollen and agitated. For a split second, a feeling regrettable and grim washed over him. Was this how Lucy Gray felt, indebted to a person, choiceless? He’d have to discuss this with her. He didn’t like to hunt deer that were strung up and immobilized anyway. He wanted them running, but only for fun, giving him a chase because they liked the feeling too, secretly hoping that he would shoot them down and mount their stag’s head on his wall for people to see and admire. Mutually assured destruction - it could feel so nice.
“I’m not going to marry Livia Cardew.” It was all he managed to say, ‘as is my right’ running through his head on a loop.
“Coriolanus.”
“Strabo,” he acknowledged, turning his head to meet the older man’s eyes and challenge Strabo to whatever he was planning to say next.
“I am looking out for you. I know that you assume that you know what’s best, but you are young and naive. I have been in this game longer than you have been alive. You cannot and will not become President if you take a District girl for a wife.”
“Lucy Gray has been here for two days. Let me have what I want at eighteen years old before you color my world with this speak of marriage and candidacy,” Coriolanus could hardly speak through the severity of his gritted teeth.
“I can see why Sejanus and you were such great friends.” Strabo’s voice was void of emotion, the rest of the world seeming to go quiet.
Coriolanus’ heart seized at the sound of his name - Sejanus. Sejanus.
“Why?” He sounded small, sweat beading on his palms.
“You remind me of him sometimes, so impassioned by what you think is right, so sure you know best. It’s the power of youth, I suppose. Perhaps I’ve just forgotten.”
They spent the rest of the car ride to the apartments entirely silent. Coriolanus felt as though he could read Strabo’s mind, envisioning the bittersweet recollections of a lost son. However, he was certain Strabo couldn’t read his. If Strabo could see what Coriolanus was thinking, all that he was remembering of the responsibility for Sejanus’ death, Coriolanus was certain his blood would run through the streets, thick and guilty, drying to amalgamate with dirt and waste.
-
Coriolanus worried that he had broken the front door with the force in which he slammed it. One of the maids, who was preoccupied with dusting the picture frames lining the main hall, jumped at the sound. “Where is she?” He demanded. The Avox pointed toward the ceiling, signaling with veracity.
“She’s in the garden?” Coriolanus couldn’t help but yell, furious. He thought of the rotting barrier surrounding the rooftop, imagining her stepping too close to the edge. He envisioned her running her fingers along the rose patches, her skin catching on the unbridled thorns. The maid continued to cower as Coriolanus stormed past her, running up the corridor to the grounds.
Lucy Gray was startled by his arrival, still in her nightgown, her silhouette accentuated by the waning moon. She was already close to the edge, her eyes wide and wild. Coriolanus threw his hands up, hoping to calm her, so as not to scare her.
For a moment neither of them said anything. The air was heavy with the smell of looming rain, fraternizing with the hue of roses. Coriolanus was certain it would storm tomorrow, but not tonight. Tonight was clear. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft, warm, a tone so alien to that he’d been using the rest of the day. He hardly recognized it himself.
Lucy Gray nodded, crossing her arms over her chest timidly. “Are you?”
Coriolanus shook his head as he approached her, desperate to pull her away from the precipice of the roof. “No, but that’s not relevant. Why are you up here?”
Lucy Gray didn’t move from him as he neared. “I wanted to be outside. Am I not allowed?”
Coriolanus was desperate to touch her. It was striking, then, staring at her before him, how rarely he felt the warmth of another human being. Over the last several months, he’d assumed that remembrance was enough. He could recall how she felt like it was inherent to his existence, embedded so deeply that it was just as cursory to his being as his eye or hair color. Looking at her now, he couldn’t remember it as well. The potential for new memories was too heavy, washing away what was to make room for what could be.
Once close enough, he brought his hands to Lucy Gray’s shoulders and gently moved her to face away from him, hugging the back of her. The Capitol sprawled out around them, figures moving through high rises like ghosts, flashing from window to window as they moved about. The hum of cars and electricity lines buzzed like white noise, soothing the aggressions that had been plaguing Coriolanus almost as much as the feel of Lucy Gray’s body. She didn’t protest against him, dropping her shoulders and leaning back, letting his arms wrap around the front of her and his chin rest on the top of her head. The moment was stripped down, absent of the past and current ailments, even if only for a moment.
“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Coriolanus whispered, afraid to disturb the delicacy of the present.
“What would hurt me up here?” Lucy Gray’s voice was equally faint, her words lingering on ‘up here’. Coriolanus wondered if she was implying that the true danger was downstairs.
“The balcony rails are decaying.” Coriolanus lifted his hand to direct her chin to the left side of the roof, showing her a gaping hole in the banister. “I don’t want you to fall.”
Lucy Gray did not respond, cheeks warm at the familiarity of his hand on her face. She was suddenly glad for their positioning and his inability to see her expression. The tenderness of his touch felt foreign, distinctly Coriolanus yet so jarringly altered from the hostile person she’d known him to be. She never quite knew what to make of him and was afraid to commit to one opinion over the other. Ultimately, it felt easier to demonize him and push him away than the alternative, which felt synonymous to betrayal, a fear greater than death, that she could love him and he could destroy her because of it.
“You can let me in,” Coriolanus whispered in her ear, close enough that his bottom lip grazed her earlobe. “You can talk to me.”
She remained silent, too afraid to say the wrong thing, more afraid to say the right thing. Instead, she simply leaned back even further, wishing to crawl inside him and make judgments on the way his heart beat and the thoughts etched across his brain. Would she understand him then? Would she understand this?
They stayed this way for a while, Coriolanus’ heart beating against her back, slowing the longer they touched. The Capitol looked beautiful, lights stretching out for miles. If Lucy Gray looked hard enough, she could almost imagine her younger self on the precipice of the world, picking flowers in Twelve. Untouched and unharmed, unaware of the darkness inside her. Innocent and rare.
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betyloca · 23 days
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Imagine: you are the daughter of Victor Creed, having the same mutation, being at Xavier's school, being isolated and Kurt trying to be your friend.
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You were in the school cafeteria, you were sitting at a table away from the others. You saw how the other students were looking at you with fear. You could hear them talking bad about you.
"They're pathetic" you thought, scratching the table, bored of being in that place.
You had claws that scratched the wood, creating the pattern of a smiling face. You felt like someone was approaching.
Y/N: What the fuck do you want?
Kurt: Hel~ Hello, I'm Kurt.
Y/n: I don't care
Kurt: I saw you alone
Y/N: How observant you are.
you saw out of the corner of your eye how he got nervous playing with his fingers while looking at the floor you rolled your eyes while sighing
y/n: are you going to sit down or not?
Kurt: Oh sure, thanks.
He sat next to you, you could notice how he smiled, wagging his tail.
Kurt: And what's your name?
y/n: y/n creed
Kurt: Nice name.
y/n: tss
Weeks later, that boy never left you alone, wherever he went, he always followed you, no matter if you treated him badly or avoided him, he always came back.
You were walking through the hallways when you smelled a familiar smell until you heard a voice.
Kurt: hey y/n wait for me
"Damn" you thought as you quickened your pace, you knew you couldn't escape him but you tried.
Kurt: Hey, you're quick, where are you going?
He said when he teleported to your side.
y/n: to the patio I want fresh air
you told him sharply
Kurt: Ok let's get some air together
He said as he walked next to you smiling.
He always followed you when you wanted to be alone, he was always there. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, angry, slamming him against the wall.
Kurt: Y/N, what's wrong?
y/n: why every time I want to be alone you are always behind me, do you think it's a game or what?
You said as you ran your claws over his neck.
Kurt: ahh it's not a game
y/n: then tell me
Kurt: I just didn't want you to be alone.
You pulled him closer to look at him closely to see if he was lying. You approached, smelling his neck. If he felt afraid, you heard him gasp. I was not afraid.
How you hated him, he was always close to you, what you hated when he wasn't with you, you hated when he was with someone who wasn't you.
When he was always around, you hated when your stomach felt funny, but you loved him being around, you smelled his scent, you felt it make you dizzy.
You let it go thinking that this time it would disappear, mistake it didn't.
Kurt: Are you okay?
you rolled your eyes
y/n: yes
You started walking towards the patio, he followed you like a scared cat from behind. You looked at him over your shoulder.
y/n: are you going to come closer or not kitten?
You noticed how he got nervous, approaching your side. You grabbed his hand so he would stop being nervous. He looked at you, blushing.
Kurt: ahh y/..y/n
y/n: if you tell anyone I will kill you
He nodded as he squeezed your hand, you felt his tail wrap around your waist.
maybe it wasn't bad to have him as a friend after all
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randomshyperson · 1 year
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Mystery Club - Chapter Nine - Wanda Maximoff x Reader Series
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Summary: Returning to your hometown five years after leaving everything behind, including your best friend, is no easy feat. Getting involved in a secret club wasn't in the plans either. Or the one based on Life is Strange.
Warnings: (+18) high school au, best friends to lovers, mild/heavy angst mentions with happy happing, use of legal substances (alcohol, marijuana), violence, verbal aggression, explicit language, smut, triggers regarding sexual assault, mentions of death, grieving, hints of depression and anxiety, panic attacks, a lot of domesticity.
General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad || Series Masterlist
--//--
Chapter Nine - The Halloween Party
"That tickles." 
Wanda smiles at your speech, the touch of the brush firm. "Stop moving, or you'll mess it up." She instructs, and though you huff softly, you obey her. And it doesn't take long for her to pull away. "There. See, that wasn't so hard. You're ready, now we can go." She said as she put her makeup away, and you looked away from her to turn your chair and look in the mirror.
You two were making an interesting pair. The Addams couple and Wanda needs some applause for that dress. Your suit was comfortable, but Gomez's mustache was funny. 
"Let's go soon, I think the party may have already started." She repeated, now holding a purse. Before she leaves, however, you hold her hand.
"What are our rules?" 
Wanda sighs lightly, staring at you. "If things get weird or dangerous, we go home." She says, and you raise an eyebrow. With another sigh, she continues. "Without question or stubbornness. In the same second, because our safety is more important."
You smile, kissing her on the cheek. "That's right, secret agent." You tease. "Ready?"
The party was taking place not far from the campus, and in fact, you almost slapped yourself for not imagining that the abandoned train tracks would serve as a meeting place for teenagers and young adults wanting to drink and do drugs.
At the end of the track, there were abandoned railroad cars, and from a distance, you could already hear the loud music or see the colored lights that were spread around. They had turned one of the guard booths into a DJ booth, and another one held a fridge for possible rain. Fortunately, it didn't look like it was going to rain anytime soon.
Although the party was taking place in an open place, where parked cars lined up to guide the way to the guests, there was an entrance of some sort. And the tall young man at the door was some kind of security guard.
Wanda held your hand as soon as she spotted him. "Just follow my lead."
"What...?" You questioned confused, but she silenced you gently and went back to walking.
Two girls with Westview High jackets covering their short costumes stepped into the opening between the train cars in front of you, but as soon as the tall boy at the door spotted you two, he put a hand out in your way.
"Did you get lost on the way to kindergarten, cuties?" 
Mocked the man who stank of cigarettes and booze. His hair was loose along his shoulders, and he flashed a sharp-toothed grin at you.
Wanda lifted her chin, covering part of your body with hers. "Get out of the way, Creed. The party is open to the public."
The man laughs, crossing his arms. "Open to the public my ass, Maximoff. You need an invitation from someone at RedRoom, and you and your little friend are not on the list-"
"I came with Romanoff." Wanda lies, but the boy chuckles wryly.
"Everyone knows she hates you. Go home." He insists angrily, but Wanda doesn't hesitate.
"Catch up on the gossip, Sabretooth, we're together again." Wanda retorts, and you try to disguise your discomfort at the lie. Luckily, the man seems angry enough not to notice you.
"Don't call me that, you little shit!" He warns between teeth. 
Wanda releases your hand to raise them in surrender, a fake giggle escaping. "Hey, hey, it was just a joke." She tries. "Come on, Victor, let us through. We're here to have some fun. And we will expend some money too."
He grumbles irritatedly, rolling his eyes. "Okay, but stay out of trouble, you hear? No Romanoff will bail you out if you cause trouble tonight."
Wanda raised an interested eyebrow. "Tonight? What's so special about tonight?"
Victor laughs short. "It's Halloween, moron. Folks collect a lot of money on holidays. All the RedRoom leaders came, there are even people from the statehouse at the party. As I said, don't fuck it up, Maximoff. And that goes for your pretty friend-
"Okay, Victor, I get it." She cuts in, pulling you by the hand as he gives you a more predatory look, and pulls you into the lobby before the security guard can say anything else.
The party is actually much more crowded than you'd expect inside, and it's all kind of claustrophobic because of the railroad's limited space. 
You let go of Wanda's hand to hug your own body.
"Hey, are you okay?" She asks worriedly as she notices your tension, but you force a smile.
"Let's just make it quick, okay? To get home soon." You say, and Wanda smiles, reaching up to kiss your cheek before looking around for a moment.
"Well, maybe it's faster if we split up? That way you see one part of the place and I see the other..."
"O-okay." You mumble, but she looks at you worriedly, one hand on your wrist, caressing your skin.
"Are you sure you're going to be fine?" she asks, and you smile to reassure her.
"Yeah, baby, don't worry." You assure her, even though you're sweating a little. "We'll ask you a few questions, and if we don't find out anything, we'll leave, right?"
She smiles, giving you a quick kiss before nodding. "I'll see you later, detka."
You kiss her again, ignoring the bad feeling in your gut that was begging you to leave the party. "See you later."
Wanda let go of your wrist, and turned her back on you, disparaging into the first crowd of people ahead. You took a deep breath before heading in the opposite direction.
–//–
Electronic music echoed strongly in Wanda's ears, and after so many minutes - perhaps a whole hour - without success in her investigation, the sound was already irritating her to the limit. She sighed wearily as she stopped at one of the makeshift bars, and bent down a little to reach for a can of energy drink.
She didn't notice a pair of eyes staring predatorily at the exposed skin through her dress.
And Wanda was too busy searching for a clean glass to notice the tall figure approaching.
"You're new here." 
She turned her head away from the drinks to the man in half surprise. Wanda forced a smile. "Maybe. Or maybe you've just never noticed me." She retorts, not wishing to indulge her lack of invitation to the stranger. 
He smiles however, pushing his hair back. "Nah, you're definitely new. I would have noticed a pretty girl like you."
Wanda forces a shy laugh, biting her tongue to keep from saying she was taken, and most definitely not interested. He licks his lips, letting his gaze run down her costume before asking, "Looking for a cup?"
"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I'll catch some disease if I put my mouth on one of those cans." She clarifies about the fact that most of the stuff was stored in the worst possible way, and with so much iron to the place, a diagnosis of tetanus was the minimum. The man laughs, and reaches out to give Wanda's arm a gentle touch.
"Come, I'll show you where it is." He leads, and she swallows dryly, pushing back the bad feeling of having his hands touching her before forcing a smile and following him deeper into the party.
You, on the other hand, have a glass of soda - which was very hard to find - half empty in your hands.
You probably are a better investigator, or perhaps luckier and less impatient than Wanda. Or maybe you were just fortunate enough to notice the two boys trading pills shortly after you and her split up, and after following them around the party for a while, you finally approached them.
They were high enough to believe you wanted to use too, and when you convinced them that you needed something stronger, they said you should go to the widow's wagon, and you had no idea what that meant, so you played along.
You looked for someone at the party who looked more veteran - you ended up choosing a blonde girl who walked past you several times giving orders - and approached her.
"Sorry, I'm after the widows, and I just can't find them on my own." You said, feigning your best impression of someone high. "Can you guide me?"
The girl found your state amusing and squeezed your cheek lightly. "Sure, pretty baby. Come with me, I'll take you there."
She says, grabbing your hand and leading the way through the crowd, to the north of the party, further away from the public as a private area.
"Thank you...?"
"Emma." She introduces herself, turning her head towards you for a moment. "Emma Frost."
You smile, nodding before saying your name, getting the impression that she doesn't even save much, both from the sound and the rush. She stops, and points to the last wagon a short distance away, where you see some young people sitting on puffs, sharing two or three shisha, as well as having their own freezer of drinks. 
"Take it slow, kitten. You look like you've had enough." Emma teases before leaving you, heading back to the party.
You swallow dryly before making your way to the last wagon. You are a little surprised to recognize the red hair of the girl sitting on her back, but before you can greet her, someone else is recognizing you.
"I didn't expect you to be a party crasher, Rogers."  Teased Clint loudly, sitting on one of the middle puffs, holding the narghile hose in one hand. 
The whole small group looked at you, and Natasha cracked a smile. "Y/N! You came!" She commented, and must have been really very drunk to hug you by the neck as if you were old friends. 
Clint gave a dry laugh. "Did you really invite this girl, Nat? You used to have better company..."
The redhead rolled her eyes, gesturing to the boy. "Come on, Clint, don't be mean. Y/N is friends with Yelena-"
"And Yelena's not here." Reminded the boy, blowing the smoke from the last puff into the air. "It seems to me that Y/N doesn't have an invitation."
Natasha huffs impatiently, ready to defend you, but you step forward. "Hey, Clint, I actually want to apologize." You say, surprising everyone. The boy raises his eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm sorry for kicking your ass. I should have given you at least a two-minute head start."
About three people who were smoking next door chuckled, one of them Maria Hill, which made Clint stand up angrily. "Listen here, you little shit-"
But Nat put herself between you. "Clint, come on, it was just a joke." She tried to appease, a hand on his chest. "Take it easy. No trouble with the supplier is around, remember?"
The boy grunted, but pulled away, throwing himself back on the couch hard. 
You swallowed dryly, shifting your posture. "Sorry guys, I'm kind of super high right now." You lie, and that surprises Natasha, who giggles a little.
"Really, Y/N? I didn't think you were the type..." She comments, pulling your arm so that you sit on the free puff next to the one she was on before. 
Swallowing dryly quietly, you nod. "Well, everyone needs to relax once in a while." You comment, receiving a chorus of agreement. "And the institute is driving me crazy. And honestly, dating too." The lie almost hurts, but it attracts even more attention and understanding from others. "I'm just looking for something to push my problems away."
Clint chuckles, half-impressed. "It's your lucky day, Rogers. I've got all sorts of things for you to relax in here."
You swallow dry again, and to your luck, Natasha sits down next to you - almost too close to bother - and puts an arm around you.
"Let's just wait a little while, Clint." She says as an order. "Y/N already had a smoke, she needs a few minutes."
He rolls his eyes, but puts back away whatever it is he was going to take out of his pocket. Someone changes the music to something even louder and more frenzied, and the guys in the group perk up, the kids from before come out to dance, and Maria leans in to whisper something in Nat's ear that makes her laugh softly. "Later, Hill. Yelena would kill me if I left her friend high and alone at a party."
Maria sighs, but kisses Nat's cheek and leaves to join the others in dancing. You adjust in your seat, half uncomfortable with her arm around you, and the way her collarbone sits so close to your face like this. 
"Are you and Maria dating?" You ask casually, and Clint gives a loud laugh, throwing his head back to blow out the smoke from his smoke.
Natasha throws a cushion at him before looking back at you.
"It's nothing official, sweetie." She counters. "We're just having fun."
You take advantage of the fact that everyone thinks you're stoned to be honest. "So you cheated on Wanda for fun?"
"Outch. She got you on that one." Clint teases adjusting himself in the armchair, and Nat chuckles dryly, staring at you for a moment.
You swallow hard, ready to say you were saying stupid things when Nat adjusts herself, crossing her legs.
"Well, you don't know the whole story, kitten." Retorts the redhead, throwing her hair back behind her shoulders. "I may have even cheated on Wanda, which was fucked up I admit, but she cheated first."
You frown. "Really?" You ask without believing it one bit.
Natasha breathes out a fake laugh. "Is calling someone else's name in sex considered cheating?" She comments, and you open your mouth to say you weren't sure, but she moves closer to your ear. "I think so, and I think it's pretty fucked up. It happened only once, and she was pretty drunk, but it was exactly the push I needed. I was doing a great job, fucking her hard in that armchair in the ridiculous garage, but when she came, it was your name she screamed." Natasha confesses and you choke in surprise. She pulls away with an innocent giggle. "But, you know, water over the bridge. I had my revenge with the whole Maria thing, and she ended up dating you in the end. We don't need to keep going back to this."
You were speechless, but Clint commented. "You girls are fucked up."
Nat rolls her eyes, staring at Clint in disbelief. "Don't be sexist, old friend. It doesn't make you attractive to girls." She retorts, tilting her head slightly. "But it might work on guys..."
"Fuck you, Romanoff." He retorts angrily, but Nat just laughs again.
"Don't be like that, Clint." She continues. "Guys are hot, you're really gonna say you've never considered-"
"I ain't fucking gay!" He interrupts, but she rolls her eyes.
"Well, bi people or pans still exist." She continues. "And I know I wasn't the only one noticing the bartender at Odin's Bar last week-"
"Holy shit, Natasha, shut up!" Clint interrupts angrily, raising a finger at her. "Don't talk that shit to me! You know damn well that I only put up with you and Maria with that dyke shit because I've known you two since you were kids, but don't come insinuating that I'm like you!"
Natasha stood up in irritation. "You must be high as fuck to come and offend me, Clint." She grunted angrily. "Put your shit together, asshole. You won't say homophobic bullshit to me, I'm warning you, or I'll turn you in to the fucking police you motherfucker!"
Clint seemed to be in shock at the explosive reaction but only for a few seconds. He then laughed dryly.
"Police? What the fuck are you talking about, you crazy bitch?"
Natasha didn't hesitate. "I could turn you in for the drugs, at the very least-"
Clint laughed again, getting up as well. "You're the one who must be on drugs to talk such shit, aren't you, Natasha? You know damn well that if I ever go down, I'll turn everyone in. Your daddy, that rich professor, even you. Everyone here is of age and can be arrested-"
Natasha shoves him hard, but Clint only grunts in irritation, and holds her hand when she threatens to slap him. "Do whatever the fuck you want! I'll tell everyone you killed that boy-"
"Natasha!" Clint cuts her off almost desperately, holding her wrist tightly. "Enough! You're drunk. Cut this shit out, go get some water." He orders, and Natasha pulls her hand away, her eyes full of tears. 
She curses low, moving away to get a glass of the water, and Clint looks up at you.
"Get the fuck out of here, Rogers." He commands, but you are static in your seat, the whole conversation replaying in your head. When Clint goes around the narguile and grabs your arm to pull you upright, he yells back, "Get the fuck out!"
He throws you to the exit, but you react. Without difficulty, you break free of the grip with one of the self-defense moves your father taught you so many times, and in the blink of an eye Clint is with his back pressed against the wagon, choking on your arm at his throat.
"What boy, Barton?" You demand seriously, ignoring his struggle to free himself. "Answer me!"
" Fuck! Let me go, you crazy bitch!" He tries, but you punch him hard in the stomach, and after choking, he begins to cry. "I-I didn't... fuck, let me go! It was Pietro, goddamn it, she's talking about Pietro!" 
You release him in shock, and he falls to his knees, struggling to breathe. The sounds are muffled in your ear. Natasha calls out to you, but you can't make out what she's saying.
Clint crawls away from you. "Look, it was the fucking accident okay? He took the wrong cup, we were testing some new shit at the party. It wasn't meant for him, it wasn't my fault."
You nod, grabbing a piece of iron from one of the surrounding shells, which makes Clint widen his eyes. "How did it happen?"
Clint shudders, raising a hand in front of him. "L-let go of that bar, Rogers. Please, I didn't mean to-"
"Speak up, Barton." 
He cried. "I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't! He took the wrong cup! I didn't know he was drugged! He came at me with that fag talk and I pushed him in the water but I swear I didn't know he was on drugs-"
Something in you clicked. Your hand gripped the bar hard before the first blow. Clint screamed, and you hit him again. He fell unconscious, and you raised the bar again. This time, someone knocked you to the ground first.
"What the fuck is your problem, are you trying to kill someone?" You knew that voice. Thor's blue eyes focused in front of you as he pressed you down. He kicked the bar away, and held you while other people ran to Clint.
There was a lot of blood, but he woke up, and started crying again when one of the girls held him. 
"Clint, come, we're going to take you to the hospital." She asked, but the boy continued to cry, mumbling that he was sorry. "I know you are, honey, but come on, we have to go..."
He sobbed confusedly. "What happened to the music?"
You all looked at him with confusion, Thor was helping you stand. Clint began to despair. "Laura, I don't- I can't hear the music! I can't hear anything-"
Laura pulled him to his feet, casting a horrified look at her friend before Natasha and Maria - who had returned with the other boys - moved to pull him into the car area.
You felt immediate nausea, and ran to the first corner you could, throwing up your insides -  
The image of Clint Barton's bloody ears in your mind.
"Y/N, you can't tell anyone-"
"What the fuck happened here, Natasha?" Thor cuts off her request indignantly. "Why would Y/N do that to Clint?"
You were still vomiting, wracked with the worst panic attack of your life, and Natasha nervously twiddled her fingers.
"Shit, shit, shit, just, won't you tell anyone?" Said the girl approaching. "It's a long story, but do you remember when Pietro Maximoff drowned in the dam? Well, Clint pushed him. But he didn't know that Pietro was on drugs. He was just being a jerk because Pietro wanted a spot on the team and well, everybody knows that he was openly bisexual and may have flirted with Clint, who took it all the wrong way and pushed him into the water. But Pietro was on some of the new pills we brought to the party-"
"Holy shit, Natasha, that's so fucked up." Thor commented indignantly, and the redhead nods tearfully.
"I know, okay?" She shouted back. "But I couldn't turn in my family. Clint, or Alexei, I just couldn't-"
"Okay, Nat." Thor cut in seeing the other's desperation, "Just help me with Y/N."
They sat you down on the grass, but you didn't stop crying. 
"W-wanda." You gasped between one sob and another. "Please call Wanda."
"You go or me...?" Thor started but Nat was already getting up.
"I find her, you stay. She puts up a good fight when she loses her head. Keep her away from trouble. And iron." Natasha guides, ignoring Thor's mild protest about the joke to return to the party to search for her ex-girlfriend.
–//–
The music was muffled, distant. Wanda blinked in confusion, but nothing seemed to focus in her view.
She put a hand to her forehead, noticing the sweat, and sighed breathlessly. Someone gave a chuckle a few feet away from her.
"Don't put up such a fight, sweetheart." Said the male voice. "It's easier if you just relax..."
Wanda shuddered, gasping a little. "What... what's happening? My head..."
"Shh, Wanda, calm down." He whispered, taking a step forward. "I promise it'll be quick, and thanks to our little pill, you'll really enjoy it."
She heard a zipping, but her legs were weak. Footsteps came closer, but someone dragged the door open and increased the brightness inside the wagon.
"They're in here, Captain Fury!" Someone shouted and Wanda put her hands to her head, all the sounds too loud at once.
The man fell hard in front of her, one knee preening him to the ground as he was handcuffed. "Now we've got you, you bastard." Said the policewoman, but the man laughed wryly.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Save it for the court, von Doom." Retorted the Policewoman lifting him up without difficulty. "Although there won't be much of a defense for you. We caught you in the act of trying to abuse this poor girl."
He struggled against the handcuffs. "I had nothing to do with it! She's the one who dragged me here!"
"Shut up and walk, you bastard." 
A taller figure approached Wanda, and knelt in front of her.
"Miss Maximoff, can you hear me?" It was a man, Wanda choked softly, trying to answer, but unable to do so. He sighed, "I'm going to hold your hands, okay, to help you walk."
Wanda struggled at the first moment, confused and frightened. But soon she obeyed the cue, not seeming to have much control of what she was doing.
"We need ambulatory support here, sergeant." The man warned those outside.
"Yes, Captain Fury, on our way." Answered one of the uniformed men.
The party was over, there was no one else around. The music had been turned off earlier, it was the last thing the cops were struggling to get out.
Wanda was put in the back of an ambulance, and by this time, you had overcome the panic to be at the door.
"Only family can go up..." Warned the rescuer half-heartedly. Thor gave you a nudge of encouragement.
"She's family." He assured the nurse seriously, who made room for you to climb up. 
When you saw your girlfriend's groggy state, you broke into tears. Your hand held hers the whole way to the hospital.
Natasha Romanoff stayed behind, and adjusted the coat she received, her Halloween makeup smeared across her face.
Fury put out his cigarette with his boot. "I don't know what made you change your mind and call me, Romanoff, but you may have saved that girl's life today. I'm proud." 
Nat sobbed, and to the Captain's surprise, hugged him. He sighed, stroking her back. "I want to give my statement, Nick. I'm sorry for everything."
"It's okay, sweet girl. None of this is your fault-"
She sniffled. "I should have turned him in, I should have-"
"Natasha, calm down." Nick says, giving her a gentle tug so she can look at him. "Take a deep breath. Go sober up, and get some rest. Tomorrow go to the police station, I'll be waiting for your statement. Don't sleep at home if he's there, I don't want you to be in danger. Can you do that?"
She sniffles, wiping her face with her hand. "Y-yeah. I can sleep somewhere else."
Nick smiles gently. "Stay safe child. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He says, giving her a gentle squeeze before waving to the other cops who were leaving the scene.
Thor cleared his throat as he approached. "Can I give you a ride somewhere, Nat?"
She nods tearfully, and Thor leads the way to the car. When he is already driving, he asks, "Why did you decide to call the police? I mean, it was the right thing, of course, but you didn't seem to want to put your friends in any trouble before, and the party was full of drugs..."
Natasha sniffled slightly. "Remember that thing with Pietro I mentioned? Thor nods, and she swallows dryly. "He took the wrong cup. I never understood how, but then I remembered. He wanted to get along with the jocks, with me. He came to talk, said he had the best of intentions, and I thought he was adorably charming but I wanted to challenge him. He wanted to prove that he was a trustworthy person and drank my glass and his. I thought it was cute, and told him that if he could impress my best friend, maybe I would give him a chance. But Clint-"
"I get it." Thor cut in understanding. "So someone drugged your cup."
Natasha hugged her knees. "Professor Doom was going to almost every party, he's well-liked at the university. I heard he finds talent like that. He offered me a drink before Pietro spoke to me, I never imagined that-"
She sobbed, and Thor put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it wasn't your fault."
But Nat shakes her head, crying a little. "I knew about the drugs at the party, Thor! 
My stepfather sells most of them, always has. Clint used to buy from him, and resell it at parties. Before the police questioned us about Pietro, von Doom came to see me. Advising me not to turn my family in, how Yelena would be hurt, and I was stupid enough to believe him."
Thor swallowed dryly, stopping at the red light and putting his hand on Nat's knee. "Hey, Romanoff, you were 16, give yourself a break. It was two adults manipulating you, after a horrible accident. You need to forgive yourself, especially since you've decided to do the right thing now."
She sniffled, trying to stop crying. "I just... I asked around for Wanda, and I was told that von Doom had taken her out of the party, and I found them and when I saw her condition, I immediately understood everything and I just-" But she sobbed, and Thor hugged her. "I'm really sorry."
The blonde kept holding her until she stopped crying, not caring about the honking of horns when the signal opened. 
Natasha calmed down after a long moment, and he kissed her forehead. "Can I do anything for you, Nat?"
She sighs but then nods. "I need a place to stay tonight." She says. "Alexei is home, and I don't want-"
"Of course, Nat." Thor cuts in gently. "Stay as long as you want."
She smiles tearfully. "I'll do the right thing this time, Thor."
He holds her hand. "I got you, sweetheart."
Across town, you were squeezed into a hospital bed. It was probably against the rules, but Wanda insisted.
"We're going to end up in trouble." You whispered to her, receiving only a tired chuckle from the girl beside you.
As soon as you had settled down, she lay on your chest and inhaled deeply. Her heartbeat, monitored by the machine at the side of the bed, slowed as she relaxed. 
You smiled, one hand on her back.
"Are you going to tell me what happened now?" She asked low against your skin. You swallowed dryly, your caresses not stopping.
"Tomorrow." You murmured. "You have to rest."
Wanda sighs in exhaustion, one hand under your blouse, seeking warmth.
"At least tell me if it's over?"
You kiss the top of her head, holding it more firmly. "Yes, honey, it's over."
She sighs lightly, almost numb. "Did you call my parents?"
You chuckle. "Yeah, Charles and Erik are outside. They need to talk to the police."
Wanda opens her eyes, turning her head toward you. "Police?"
"Not today, Wanda." You repeat, pulling her back to a resting position. "I'll tell you everything, but not today. You need to sleep."
She complains a little, but her breathing starts to get heavier. In her last struggles against sleep, she mutters, "You should call Steve too. It sounds like it was serious."
You stroke her hair. "I will." You promise her, and even though she's fast asleep the next moment, you whisper "I love you, Wands." to the empty room.
When it is safe to move without waking her, you leave the bed. Erik hugs you once you are outside, like when you were a child and a second daughter to him. It's a little strange at first, but that night was so horrible that you allow it.
Charles doesn't, because he sees the way you look at him.
"There is someone who needs to talk to you, Y/N." Erik tells you. "Jennifer Walters, our family lawyer. You should, because with the whole drug situation, and the assault on the Barton boy-"
"I'll Erik." You cut him off, feeling a little nauseated. "I just need to call my dad first."
He smiles, squeezing your shoulder before making his way to Wanda's room.
With trembling hands, you dial the number. Steve doesn't answer until the third attempt, because it's very late in England now.
"Hi, sweetheart, is everything okay?" He asks meekly, and it's enough for you to start crying in the middle of the hall.
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