#‘don’t you want to be inside me’ <- they say this TWICE

[writeriguess]

Can you write a katsuki x female reader where she walks into katsuki masturbating on her picture. Because he has a crush on her.

The Act

You had no idea what you were about to walk into.

You had knocked twice—once, twice—just like always before entering Bakugo’s dorm room, but this time, he hadn’t shouted his usual “What?!” or “The hell do you want?” back at you. Weird. Katsuki was never the type to ignore knocks. If anything, he was usually quick to bark at whoever disturbed him.

So, naturally, you assumed he wasn’t inside.

And naturally, you made a mistake.

You pushed the door open, stepping inside, only to freeze in place at the sight before you.

Katsuki was sprawled out on his bed, legs spread, sweatpants pushed down just enough to reveal his hand wrapped around his cock. His face was flushed, lips slightly parted as deep, heavy breaths left his mouth. But what made your stomach twist and your heart pound violently against your ribcage—was the picture he was holding in his free hand.

Your picture.

A Polaroid from a few days ago when Mina had forced you into a cute pose during a game night. You remembered rolling your eyes at her, laughing, completely unaware that Bakugo had kept that picture. And now…

Your breath hitched.

The second Katsuki noticed the shift in air, his red eyes snapped open. The moment his gaze locked onto yours, everything stopped.

Time slowed.

His brain short-circuited.

“…Oh, fuck.”

His entire body went stiff. His grip on himself loosened as panic overtook his expression. His face, already red from exertion, somehow darkened into a deep crimson.

You were still standing there, mouth parted, eyes flickering between his face and the picture—his damn hand still barely gripping his length.

“Shit—get the fuck out!” he roared, scrambling to cover himself, the picture slipping from his grasp onto the bed.

You should move. You should leave. You should do something.

But you couldn’t.

Because this meant—

“You…” Your voice came out shakier than you wanted. “You…like me?”

Katsuki looked like he wanted to kill himself right there. His hand shot out to snatch the picture, shoving it under his pillow as if that would erase what just happened. “Fuckin’—goddamn it—” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just get out.”

You didn’t. Instead, you took a hesitant step forward. “Katsuki…”

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse. “Don’t say my name like that right now.”

Your stomach flipped.

You knew Bakugo. You knew him well enough to understand that this wasn’t just some horny moment he got caught in. This wasn’t about lust—at least, not just that. He wouldn’t be this mortified if it wasn’t deeper than that.

“You idiot,” you whispered, heart hammering. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He exhaled sharply, fingers digging into his sheets, still refusing to look at you. “Because it’s fuckin’ embarrassing, alright? I didn’t want you to know—” He stopped, jaw clenching. “Didn’t wanna scare you off.”

Your lips parted slightly.

Katsuki Bakugo, the guy who never hesitated to say what was on his mind, the guy who had zero filter and always spoke his truth—was scared to confess to you?

That realization sent warmth flooding through your chest.

And then, because you were feeling bold—or maybe because you wanted to see just how far you could push him—you took another step closer.

“Would it really scare me off,” you murmured, tilting your head, “if I liked you too?”

His eyes snapped open.

Shock flickered through his face before something darker took over.

“…You’re shitting me.” His voice was low, dangerous.

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

A tense silence stretched between you two. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find any hint of a lie. But all he found was the truth.

His fingers twitched.

“…Then get over here.”

And just like that, the air turned thick.

Would you obey? Or would you tease him just a little more?

Your heart pounded.

Katsuki’s grip on your wrist was firm—almost bruising—as he yanked you forward, pulling you onto his lap before you could even think to resist. His breath was ragged, hot against your skin, and his hands wasted no time, gripping your hips tight enough to leave marks.

“You don’t get to say shit like that and not fuckin’ mean it,” he growled, voice thick with frustration and something darker—something desperate. “So if you’re playin’ with me, you better get the fuck out now.”

But you weren’t.

You weren’t playing.

You wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “I’m not,” you whispered, looking him straight in the eye. “I meant it.”

Something in him snapped.

With a rough exhale, his hands slid up, gripping the back of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, pure hunger consuming him as if he’d been holding himself back for too damn long.

You gasped against his mouth, and that sound—fuck, that sound—made him lose what little restraint he had left.

His hands found the hem of your skirt, hiking it up impatiently, fingers digging into your bare thighs before pushing between them, spreading you open.

“Katsuki—”

“Shut up,” he groaned, voice strained as his fingers found the damp fabric of your panties. “Fuckin’—look at you,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours as his fingers traced the wet spot. “You like this, huh? Catchin’ me like that? Knowin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about you every damn night?”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t deny it. You nodded, lips parted as you struggled to breathe.

His jaw clenched, pupils blown wide as he pushed your panties aside with two fingers. The sudden rush of cool air against your slick folds made you shiver.

“Shit,” he hissed, running his fingers along your slit, feeling just how wet you were for him. His head fell back against the headboard, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before snapping open, locking onto you with a look that made your stomach flip. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

Your thighs clenched around his hand instinctively, but his free hand gripped your hip hard, keeping you spread for him.

“Nuh-uh,” he muttered darkly, voice rough. “Lemme feel you.”

And then, without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you.

A broken moan left your lips, back arching as his thick fingers stretched you open. He groaned at the feeling, at how warm and tight you were around him, at the way your body reacted so perfectly to his touch.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, curling his fingers just right, watching your face contort in pleasure. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn good.”

You were panting, gripping his shoulders for support as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, each thrust rough and desperate, as if he needed to memorize the way you felt around him.

And when he pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing harsh circles, your whole body jerked in his grasp.

“Gonna make you cum on my fingers,” he muttered, lips brushing against your jaw, trailing down to your neck where he nipped at your skin. “Then I’m gonna fuck you so good you won’t ever think about another damn guy again.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, and the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted, like he was ready to ruin you completely—sent you tumbling over the edge.

Your orgasm hit hard, your walls pulsing around his fingers as a choked moan ripped from your throat. Katsuki cursed under his breath, watching you fall apart for him, feeling your arousal coat his hand.

“Good girl,” he murmured, slowing his movements as he helped you ride out your high. “That’s it. Fuckin’ perfect.”

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Because the second you caught your breath, he was already undoing his sweats, freeing his cock from his boxers, and positioning you over him.

“You ready for me?” he asked, voice thick with need, rubbing his tip against your still-sensitive entrance.

And with a shaky breath, you nodded.

“Yes.”

His grip on your hips tightened.

And then he slammed you down onto his cock.

Your head fell back with a sharp gasp as Katsuki stretched you open, bottoming out in one deep, unforgiving thrust. The sheer size of him sent a shudder through your body, your nails clawing at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

“Fuck,” he growled, his head dropping against your shoulder, breath hot and ragged. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you still as he throbbed inside you, struggling to keep himself from fucking up into you like a madman. “You’re so—shit, you’re tight.”

You whimpered, thighs trembling on either side of his as your walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust to the stretch.

Katsuki sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body tensed. “Don’t do that.”

“D-Do what?” you managed to stammer.

His hands slid down to your ass, gripping the flesh roughly. “Squeezin’ me like that,” he gritted out, voice thick with restraint. “Or I’ll fuckin’ lose it.”

You bit your lip, loving the way his body was trembling beneath you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. His self-control was hanging by a thread, and you could snap it so easily.

So you rolled your hips.

Katsuki let out a guttural moan, head snapping up, eyes burning with something wild. His grip on you tightened—then, without warning, he lifted you up only to slam you back down onto his cock.

A cry tore from your lips, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust.

“Fuckin’ minx,” he growled, setting a brutal pace, using his grip on your hips to bounce you on his cock. The lewd, wet sounds of your bodies colliding filled the air, mixing with his ragged curses and your breathless moans.

He was relentless. Desperate. Like he had been starving for this, for you.

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth, watching the way you took him so perfectly, watching the way your body moved against him. His cock throbbed inside you, hitting that spot that made you cry out every time. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

Your legs were trembling, your body burning from the intensity of it all. He was everywhere—his hands gripping your hips, his mouth on your neck, his cock buried deep inside you.

“Katsuki—”

“I got you, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer for just a second before he slammed you down even harder, knocking the breath from your lungs. “I got you.”

The coil in your stomach was winding impossibly tight, your body overwhelmed by the pleasure. Your nails raked down his back, your moans turning high and needy.

Katsuki groaned at the feeling. “Shit—gonna cum, aren’t you?”

You nodded frantically, barely able to speak, barely able to think past the feeling of him wrecking you completely.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a messy kiss, swallowing your cries as he fucked you through the intensity of your orgasm.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice rough against your lips. “Wanna feel you fuckin’ fall apart on me.”

That was all it took.

Your vision blurred as pleasure crashed over you, your walls clenching around him as you came hard, your whole body shaking from the force of it.

Katsuki cursed loudly, his thrusts turning erratic.

“Fuck—fuck—” He gripped you tighter, holding you down as he buried himself deep, his cock twitching before spilling inside you with a rough groan. His body shuddered, fingers gripping your flesh almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you, breath hot against your neck.

For a moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as you both tried to recover.

Then, Katsuki let out a low chuckle, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re fuckin’ mine now, got it?”

[ghostsirensworld]

Late-Night Snack Raid with Luffy

Warnings: ooc? No use of y/n

You biggies are stealing food (I would too dw)

Obviously if you’re dating luffy you need a big appetite

You’re peacefully asleep in your shared room on the Sunny, dreaming of something pleasant, when you feel a poke. Then another.

“Hey. Wake up.”

You groan, turning away from the voice, only to be poked again—this time in the side.

“Luffy,” you mumble sleepily, “go to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry.”

You crack one eye open to see your boyfriend kneeling next to you, his face just inches from yours, his usual grin in place. His straw hat is tilted back on his head, and his eyes gleam mischievously.

“We had dinner three hours ago, Luffy,” you say, turning over in an attempt to ignore him.

“That was three hours ago!” he whines dramatically. “I need a snack.”

“You always need a snack.”

Luffy flops onto your bed dramatically, arms stretching over his head as he sighs like he’s suffering. You peek at him, and there he is, looking at you with the biggest, most ridiculous puppy-dog eyes.

You sigh. “What do you want me to do about it?”

Luffy grins. “Let’s go steal food from the kitchen!”

You blink at him. “You mean Sanji’s kitchen? The one you stay getting kicked out of?”

Luffy nods enthusiastically, like this is the best idea he’s ever had. You stare at him for a long moment, considering the sheer suicidal nature of this plan. Sanji would kill both of you if he caught you raiding his carefully stocked supplies.

But then again… you’re hungry too now.

“…Fine.” You sighed

Luffy whoops in excitement, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up. He’s practically bouncing as you both sneak out of the room, tiptoeing down the hall.

Or rather, you tiptoe. Luffy? He’s just casually strolling like he isn’t about to commit grand food theft.

When you get to the kitchen, Luffy carefully pushes open the door, peeking inside. “Clear,” he whispers, and with a giggle you both step in.

The pantry is a treasure trove of food, and Luffy immediately goes for the meat, grabbing a huge chunk like he’s found buried treasure. “Jackpot,” he grins.

You roll your eyes and grab something for yourself—a small pastry Sanji must have made earlier. But just as you take a bite, you hear the worst possible sound.

A click.

Both of you freeze.

The kitchen door locks.

“…Luffy,” you whisper.

“…Oops,” he whispers back.

You both turn, and there, standing in the doorway, is Sanji.

The blond cook takes a slow drag of his cigarette, blowing out smoke as he glares. “What do you two think you’re doing?” His voice is calm. Too calm.

Luffy, ever the fearless idiot, grins through a mouthful of stolen meat. “Hey, Sanji! We were just—”

“OUT. NOW.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You grab Luffy’s hand and run. Behind you, you can hear Sanji yelling about greedy captains and ungrateful crewmates, but Luffy is just laughing, his hand squeezing yours as you dash down the hall.

When you finally reach your room, breathless and victorious, Luffy flops onto the bed, still chewing on his stolen prize.

“That was fun!” he says through a grin.

“You almost got us killed,” you say, collapsing beside him.

He just grins wider and leans over, pressing a sloppy, meat-flavored kiss to your cheek.

“You’re the best.”

You sigh. This idiot. But he’s your idiot.

And, honestly? You wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

IDK IF THIS WAS GOOD OR NOT BUT YEAHHH REQUEST PLSSSS

[t1red-twilight]

through the ages

part 4

content/warnings: gn!reader, season 5, relationship troubles, bad boyfriend alert, medium angst, i’m a jemily truther

notes: jesus reid how i love you

word count: 3.1k

masterlist series masterlist s. r. masterlist

prev. part

the hum from the jet was quiet. the noise was something you had gotten used to at this point. you were trying to read the book you’d brought with you, but you couldn’t focus. everything in your brain was moving a million miles a minute.

across the aisle was spencer, who was demolishing hotch in a game of chess. after a few moments, hotch’s hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose and spencer’s hand shot up in a fist victoriously. “i won! again!” he said it out loud, but he was looking at you.

you exhaled out a laugh and tried return to reading your book. although, you could still hear spencer quarreling with hotch to “just play one more round.” evidently, this didn’t prove to work when he sat down on the couch next to you. he leaned his cane against the edge of it. you were sideways, with your shoes on the ground with your feet up.

it didn’t take him long to realize that you weren’t really reading. “it’s taken you longer than normal to read that page,” he commented. “what’s up?” you shut the book abruptly. socrates would just have to wait.

you exhaled as calmly as you could, and pressed your palms into your eyes. “it’s nothing,” you responded.

“well, clearly it’s not nothing. do you want to talk about it?” spencer answered.

“it’s nothing, it’s just-“ you sighed. “it’s just that ian said he can’t make it to this thing i have on saturday.” with your tone flat and even, you tried to make it seem like it really wasn’t that big of deal. it was though, to you.

spencer’s brow knit together. “thing? what thing?” you didn’t really want to tell him about it, you didn’t like making things about yourself, and big events surrounding yourself were not your forte.

you swallowed and tried to keep your composure. you definitely couldn’t cry right now, and not in front of the team. “i graduate this weekend. he said he would be there, but he just flaked on me and i don’t know why.” you paused, before continuing. “it’s not that big of a deal, though.”

spencer’s eyes widened. whether or not he was offended, you couldn’t tell. you forced your shoulders to relax and blinked to keep the tears at bay. “you’re getting your phd this weekend?” he spoke loud enough that you could tell that morgan was now tuned in to the conversation. “what time? i want to go. if that’s alright,” he stated.

you gave him a crooked smile. “it’s this saturday on campus at 4. you don’t have to go. it’s not a huge deal.” you waved your hand, trying to brush it off.

“it is a huge deal! why can’t he be there? that seems like a big event that a boyfriend should be at.” his tone started to rise, but he seemed to have caught himself. as he spoke, you noted how he tucked his hair behind his ears. his fingers were so deft and dexterous- stop. you can’t think that way.

you swallowed again, and shrugged. sitting in brief silence, you tried to think of what to say that wouldn’t alarm him too much. you cracked your knuckles and the buzz of the jet seemed to ring litter and louder in your ears. “i wasn’t even going to go in the first place. he managed to convince me, and now, all of a sudden, he can’t go? what’s up with that?” your eyes clenched shut and you bit the inside of your cheek.

when you opened your eyes, spencer’s expression had changed. his lip was pulled between his teeth, and his brow dropped together again. it also felt as if a migraine was forming behind your eye socket. this was just like ian; he loved to leave you high and dry. especially when he knew you had committed to something. what was he even doing anyway? whatever. it didn’t matter anymore.

spencer scooted in closer to you. his mouth opened once or twice as he thought of what to say. with the way his fingers were fidgeting, you could tell that he was fighting annoyance of some kind. “that’s stupid. i’m sorry. i will definitely be there,” something in his voice was reassuring. it was steady and warm and it cradled the air around you.

you looked at your feet and blinked vigorously again. your arms wrapped tighter around your knees as you struggled to keep yourself together. suddenly, you felt a gentle tap on your kneecap. looking up, you saw spencer smiling ardently at you. your ears heated. “i’ll be there. i promise.”

at this, you returned his smile as best you could. a tear escaped you eye and trailed down your cheek, but his hand removed itself from your knee and swiped it away with his thumb. “i’ll be there,” he whispered again. a comforting look swam in his dark eyes.

his hand stayed on your cheek for maybe a little too long. you leaned into it, but as you did, he removed it. you saw as he wiped the wetness from the year onto his slacks. he looked away, before returning his gaze.

you took one of your hands and held it out, albeit a little shakily, and nudged his elbow with it. he understood what you wanted. spencer grasped your hand calmly with his. there were callouses from the cane, but there was no universe in which you would ever mind. (regarding the cane, you were at ease knowing he could be out in the field again with you all. but mostly because he provided you peace of mind.)

his thumb stroked back and forth on the back of your hand slowly. you laid your head on the back of the couch, and you felt him look away. for a few seconds you forgot the deep disappointment you were trying to quell. spencer was going to be there. and somehow, that was enough.

-

the rest of the week came and passed. the line waiting for your diploma was incredibly long. this was one of the reasons that you didn’t want to attend, but you’d be lying if you said that it was the only reason. when you entered from the hallway and into the main basketball arena area that all the graduation ceremonies were held, you were not expecting anyone to show up.

you couldn’t tell if that thought was a hope or a disappointment. your heartbeat, fast and hard, almost sunk to your stomach. no one had shown up for these things for you in a while. it was something you had just gotten used to.

suddenly, there was a waiting motion you saw out of the corner of your eye. you brushed it off, assuming that it was for someone else. but, then the waving got more and more extreme. so, you finally looked over. the butterflies in your stomach fluttered harder and harder when you saw what you did.

there sat spencer, his posture perfectly upright. you couldn’t tell if it was because he wanted to see you, or if he was just trying to avoid the uncomfortable arena seats. the from on your face couldn’t hide itself. while the butterflies still remained, a sense of relief washed over you.

when he noticed that you had saw him, his fingers waved in a tentative way. then, you noticed them. there sat, not only spencer, but derek, hotch, penelope, jj, prentiss, and even rossi. you hadn’t expected him to invite the team, and you definitely did not assume the rest of the team would show up. you looked up at them, a cautious wave aimed back at them. most of all, was hotch smiling?

you turned away quickly, try not to see you like you were embarrassed. your feet became very embarrassing as you tried to hide the worm rising to your cheeks. at this point, you weren’t even upset that ian didn’t come. this is something that you were unfortunately used to. but he had said that he had things going on, what reason would you have to not believe him? maybe you were just overreacting. things happen.

a moment from about a year ago rang in your head. you could tell spencer is not excited that you were going on a date with him. hell, it was your job to understand what was going on if people’s heads, even if they were attempting (poorly, and spencer‘s case). you could tell that he did not want you to go on that date. and honestly, you didn’t want to either. you just determined that your friendship with spencer was far more important than possibly ruining it. you couldn’t tell why he was upset about it though.

the line moved extremely slowly. it seemed that the people in front of you had earned many, many extra sashes and ribbons or whatever they were. perhaps you would be more worthy of such a crowd if you had actually participated in school events. but you knew that you would never had the time for that.

your turn approached. shoulders pushed back, posture fixed. after all, you didn’t want to look sloppy. this was still something that you had worked immensely hard for. after all, no matter what, this was something that you deserved. despite what would happen or wouldn’t happen later, you were definitely buying yourself a pint of ice cream to celebrate.

yes, you were deserving of a crowd. No matter how much you wanted to deny it to yourself. this was something that you would worked your ass off for.

you looked back over to your little peanut gallery. your heart filled with warmth. you smiled, the most genuinely that you had that night. whether or not they meant it, they still showed up. that meant something.

you gave a shaky smile, and gave a thumbs up to them. awkward, but the nerves in your body did not make you feel the need to care in the sights at all.

finally, it was your turn. you heard your name called, and began the slow track up the stairs. the stairs were not steep nor long, but it felt like was the longest journey that you had made in your life. you were done. hopefully, you would never have to go to school again.

the feel of the accomplishment in your hands was surreal. all of the nights that you felt like dropping out, all the nights where you felt like doing your homework would kill you, it had paid off. how could this even be real?

the ringing in your ears subsided, you heard the cheers. you looked over your shoulder to see that the team was all standing. somehow, even far away, you could see the brightest smiles. spencer‘s face, however, looked like he was almost crying. warmth tread up to your cheeks. the love that filled your body was immense but not overwhelming. it felt right, somehow.

you followed the trail back to your assigned seat. your hands shook as you anticipated with this conversation with the team would be like. you knew them, and you knew that it wouldn’t go awry. they had always been nothing but supportive.

when that time came, your shoulders had slightly tensed, and your hands had gone numb, but just barely at the fingertips. the first thing that happened, was aaron otchner pulling you into the tightest hug that you had ever experienced. this kind of affection, was something that you were not used to experiencing.

when you looked up at him, he was smiling the biggest smile he would ever seen him express. he muttered something that only you could hear. “i’m so proud of you.” after a moment of fighting back more emotion, you mouth a thank you. it was all that you could muster.

when you pulled away, you saw spencer. he was grinning ear to ear. “i guess i’m not the only doctor on the team now,” he teased. “i’m glad.”

“good job kid,” derek stated. “i was going to buy you flowers, but that felt like a little bit too much.“

spencer’s adam’s apple bobbed, and his mouth opened as if he was going to speak. after a minute, he did. “i brought you something,“ he said. out from his crossbody bag, he pulled out a sash. it said something like, “best doctor on the team.” you had no idea where he would’ve got it from, but you knew that penelope was definitely involved in it. the glitter gave it away.

suddenly, your phone started buzzing. you held up one finger to the team, and turned away to pick up the phone. you saw that it was ian’s contact. he stepped away a few feet so that no one could hear it.

“hey baby,” he started. “i’m sorry i couldn’t make it. this is so good for you.“ you pinched the bridge of your nose. good for you? alright, captain obvious. if it was so, “good for you,” why couldn’t he have made it?

he went on for a second about, opportunities, or something, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to listen wholly.

your face scrunched up in displeasure, but you were glad that he couldn’t see it. “yeah. maybe it’ll make me eligible for a pay raise at the bureau.“

ian let out a sound almost a kin to a scoff, before he babbled on. “that’s not what – never mind.” you knew that that’s not what he meant. the hint of condescension in his tone greatened. “well, baby, if that’s what you want.”

“look, i really have to go. i have things to do.” there was that scoff from him again. “bye, ian.”

“sure, babe. finish whatever it was you were doing. bye.” you hung up rather aggressively after that. wherever he got the audacity sometimes, you had no clue. you two had good days. and those good days, they were there.

you turned and walked back to the team. As soon as you were there, noticing the looks of confusion maybe even concern. you kept a smile on your face.

penelope spoke first, “there’s a burger joint across the street? why don’t we go there?”

spencer nodded in agreement. “that sounds great, garcia.” a chorus of affirmation from the team followed. sugary soda and greasy fries. could definitely help you get your mind off things.

“that sounds wonderful.”

the team took the quick jaunt across the street to the burger restaurant. you and spencer were behind the team, speaking in somewhat hushed voices. you could’ve sworn that you had seen emily glancing back at you and spencer every now and then.

there was a chill in the night air. it hadn’t made you too particularly cold, but you still retreated into yourself. spencer looked over at you, “do you want my jacket?“

you shrugged. “we’ll be there in just a second. i’m not that cold.” despite your refusal, he shrugged off his blazer and handed it to you. you knew how he got about these things, so you just put the suit jacket on.

it was warm. and, not to mention it smelled like that fresh linen smell that you so associated with spencer. subtly, you tucked it closer to yourself. something about it filled you with a sense of calmness and security.

the burger joint looked like every stereotypical burger joint. the booths were red, and there was a fifties theme. it felt more like a diner than anything. derek held the door open for you, saying, “after you, doctor.” spencer chuckled at this.

when you got to the booth, everyone rushed to take a seat. the only spot left was the one next to spencer, but you didn’t have a problem with that. it felt as if everyone was sneaking glances over to you. was there something on your face? it was probably his blazer that you were wearing.

after orders were taken and food was delivered, everyone settled into quiet conversations. occasionally there was some talking with the entire group, but mostly people were talking in pairs.

jj and emily were sitting much too close for comfort, at least not casual comfort. you nudged spencer with your elbow and motioned over to them. for a moment, he looked kind of confused. eventually, though, he caught on. “what do you think?“ you mumbled.

he paused for a moment. “i don’t know. they’ve always been kind of close, don’t you think?“ you shrugged at this, then held your hands in defeat.

“i don’t know,” you repeated after him. “whatever you think.” you stuffed a couple more fries in your face. if you were being honest, they were a little salty. but hey, rossi insisted on paying for everyone later so you weren’t going to complain.

“what was that call about earlier?” spencer questioned, rather bluntly. you blinked like a deer caught in headlights. had he heard what ian was saying? spencer looked away briefly, but quickly resumed eye contact. something swam in his eyes. you couldn’t quite tell what it was. out of everyone on the team, he was the most difficult to read. there were times that he was more “readable,” but this was not one of those times.

you stumbled over your words for a moment. what were you supposed to say? that your boyfriend had said something absolutely annoying and insufferable, and you didn’t want to even think about him?

you swallowed the fries that you stuffed in your mouth. “you heard that, huh?” he nodded, but didn’t say anything just yet. you continued. “he just, uh, said that he was sorry he couldn’t make it.“ it technically wasn’t a lie.

spencer bit the inside of his lip. “well okay, then,” he replied. he very clearly wasn’t buying your excuse. “he still should’ve made it.“ he spoke so quietly you weren’t even sure that you were supposed to hear it.

“i think he said something about a family emergency,“ you said, waving it off. ian‘s family didn’t live in the dc area. hell, he wasn’t even in contact with most of his family. “don’t worry about it. It’s not that big of a deal.” you looked away, trying to keep casual. a deep anger quelled in your gut, but you couldn’t let spencer know that.

spencer craned his head to meet your eyeline. this time the tone his voice felt sympathetic. “are you sure?” he asked.

you nodded your head quickly. “yeah, shit happens.“ you shrugged. you pushed down the tears that bubbled in your throat. “it is what it is.”

next part

[thekeithmeister]

Being Trans In Southern Nature

Being a nature freak in the south as a well-passing trans man is a surreal experience. I live in north Georgia in a blue county in the suburbs. But as often as I can, I drive out into the middle of nowhere for hiking, camping, paddle boarding, or other outdoor activities. The drive there, in and of itself, is bizarre. Inside my car I’m blasting “This Is Me” from The Greatest Showman. But outside I’m driving by confederate flags, Trump signs, the Don’t Tread On Me flag, a sea of American Flags, and Christian billboards that literally say “you’re going to hell” with pictures of fire.

I often think if I ever get a flat tire on one of these trips, and anyone ever figures out I’m trans, I’d be hanged or shot. But I haven’t been clocked in years, so I push those kinds of thoughts to the back of my mind. I turn off the country back roads and onto the gravel drive leading up to a nature preserve. Pulling into the dirt parking lot there’s about a dozen other cars. Many have Trump bumper stickers. There’s no bathroom, so no concern about me being beat up for taking a piss. I always go in the woods anyway on these kinds of trips.

A full bladder is a concern for any trans person. But for this kind of trip I always take major precautions. They start back at home. After I eat breakfast and drink my coffee, I wait a full hour before leaving. I pee at least twice. I make damned sure my bladder is completely empty and there’s no chance any liquid is on it’s way there before getting into my car. I just described the kind of place I have to travel through to get to a good hiking trail. And I ain’t stopping. Not for anything. I’d rather pee my pants.

So when I pull into the lot I have my gear with me. A small backpack containing my rolled up hammock, a bottle of water, protein bars, toilet paper and my taser. When hiking, I drink barely enough to fuel my body. And if I do it just right, I don’t have to pee even if I’m out in the park the entire day. I don’t risk it. And if there really is just no choice, I’m going to go way off trail to do it. And I mean not just out of sight of the trail, but so far off the path someone would have to be crazy to come out there and spot me. Those are the kind of precautions I take.

But I just pulled into the parking lot and my dangerous bladder is empty. So no concerns at the moment. Backpack on, I start walking up to the trail head. There’s a sign there with a map of the trails on it. A blonde woman in a bright yellow shirt immediately approaches me.

“Excuse me!” she says. “Can you tell me if this is an easy trail?”

I’m used to this. Every time I go out hiking, people approach me. Everyone is friendly. Everyone smiles. And I think I must have a very approachable face. Or maybe I look experienced. Whatever the reason, complete strangers come up to me many times during any hike.

This is my first time on this trail, but I researched it beforehand, so I can answer her.

“Some of it,” I said. I turn and point at the map. “Make sure to take a right at the first fork. The entire eastern loop is easy. See, it’s marked green. You want to avoid the western loop as that goes straight up the mountain.” I pointed to the red part.

The woman nodded, “I see. And are there a lot of people on this trail?”

“From what I’ve read no. That’s why I came today. The reviews say you see hardly any body.”

“Thank you! You’ve been a great help! You seem like a really nice young man. Enjoy your hike!”

“You too!”

We part ways. I enter the trail head to begin my hike and I wonder the same exact thing I always wonder when I have these encounters. Would that nice lady turn mean and ugly and hate me if she knew I was trans? I think it every single time. There’s no way not to. I drove through Trump land to get here. I know what conservatives think of me. Or at least the idea of me. It’s not hidden. It’s not a secret. Trump has been president for 20 days at the time I’m writing this, and he has already signed 4 anti-trans specific executive orders. He is planning on discharging 15,000 trans military service members, possibly dishonorably and without their benefits. He’s planning on making it illegal for trans people to play sports. And he also wants to make it illegal for us to use a bathroom in a federal facility. He’s trying to make healthcare illegal for trans people under 19 years of age, threatening to throw parents and doctors in jail. And I watched as Trump signed these executive orders in front of a huge, cheering, smiling, clapping, crowd of conservatives.

They hate me. They want me to die. But when they meet me in real life, they all smile. They approach me. Ask me questions. Thank me for helping them. Many, especially older white men, seem to want to give me guidance, like a father figure. When I run into them on the trail, they are quick to tell me, “the river flooded that way so be careful,” or “the fishing is great at this pond! Bring your pole next time!”

I have never met an unfriendly person while hiking or camping. And I cannot help but wonder… what if they knew? What would those smiles turn into?

I choose the most difficult route on purpose to try and get out into nature alone. I want the peace and quiet it gives me. I don’t want to hear anything other than the birds, the wind, and the branches moving together. If I’m working hard enough, then my own blood pumping in my ears. For the first hour this is what I get. And I’m immeasurably happy. It’s early February and it’s 60 degrees on a sunny day. There are no leaves or greenery yet, but I’m smelling the warmth from the earth mix with the cool air. The pine trees give me plenty of green to be happy with.

But soon, as is always the case, the peace is interrupted. I hear voices from the trail ahead break the quiet. They’re loud. And there are many. Anxiety immediately kicks in. A prick of fear I can never quite control. It sounds like a group of men. And raised as a girl, I knew from a woman’s perspective just how dangerous this could turn out to be. Even having been transitioned and living as a man for the past 8 years, that was embedded in me. Possibly forever. But also having lived as a trans man for so long, my fear shifts from the possibility of being raped to being beat up instead. But again… that would only happen if someone clocked me. And that hadn’t happened in years.

I breathe in and calm myself down. I’m aware of the weight of my taser in my back pocket. I reach back and flip off it’s lid. But I leave it hidden for now. I’ve never needed it, and likely never would. After all, I have never met an unfriendly person while hiking or camping.

As the voices draw nearer, I suddenly hear a woman laugh. My fear immediately vanishes. This was a mixed group of hikers. I keep going and crest the ridge. I can see them now. There’s five, three men, and two women. And one person was black and another Asian. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I always found it interesting just how many other minorities I ran into in the middle of nowhere in the North Georgia Mountains. And how many foreigners for that matter. During this hike, I had run into two separate Germans. Where were they staying? And out of all the places in America they could visit, they chose this tiny trail? But that seemed to be the case almost anywhere I went.

I start passing the group of hikers, and as always, I’m stopped.

“Hi! Nice weather isn’t it?” The lead hiker says.

“Yes it is!” I reply.

“Are we close to the top of the mountain?” One of the women asks me.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s not far. You’re almost there.”

“You hear that honey?” She calls back to a man huffing and puffing as he comes up at the rear. “We’re almost there!”

“Uuugh!” He groans. The woman turns back to me. “Are there really good views at the top?”

“Kinda,” I said. “You have to look through the trees, but it is a good view.”

“Oh great, thank you!”

We part ways. I once again have the same exact thought. All of them were so nice. But how nice would they have been if they’d known?

At the top of the mountain I stop. It had been a tough hike. Steep the entire way. I go off trail a decent distance so no one would see me, find me, or bother me. I set up my hammock where I can be alone. Rocking myself in it, I look out to the view. I can see across two sloping peaks in the distance and it’s really beautiful. But I can’t enjoy it as much as usual. Nature always heals me and puts my mind right. But I’d found out just the day before that the Georgia Legislature had introduced a bill to strip away healthcare from transgender people. It would ban all gender affirming care, even for adults, from anything government or state related.

I was on a private insurance plan from my job, but I didn’t know if my nurse practitioner, who’d been treating me for over 5 years, accepted any government or state funding. If her practice relied on that kind of money, I would be in a lot of trouble. She likely wouldn’t be able to treat me anymore, or risk losing all her funding. Or worse. If treating trans people was illegal, she could potentially be arrested for helping me.

It had taken me years to find someone competent when it came to transgender health. I wouldn’t be able to find someone else. Or rather, I could, but it would likely take years again. And I might be in a situation where I’d be forced to drive out of state. But even then… Trump was targeting blue states, and trying to force them to stop offering healthcare too. So going to a blue state might not have even helped.

I lay in my hammock, wondering what on earth it was I could do. My best friend the day prior had suggested flying to Canada once a year just to get my medication and then coming home. That was a very expensive solution… but one I might have no choice but to consider. Could they even prescribe me a whole years worth of testosterone at a time? I didn’t think so. But maybe I could have it shipped from Canada? How expensive would that be?

I heard a mom shouting at her giggling kids coming up the path just out of sight. They wouldn’t be able to see me where I had set up. So I was free to lay in my hammock and try to fathom what kind of lives this family likely had. How wonderful it must’ve been to not have to worry about where you could legally take a leak, or how you would legally get your medications. That mom didn’t worry about her doctor being thrown in jail. Or if she and her husband would be thrown in jail for getting her kids the proper care they needed. That little family… had no idea that absolute and ruthless hell trans families had to go through.

I wait until I hear them leave. Then wait several minutes more. Then I pack up my hammock and other things and continue down the trail. I’m blissfully alone for another hour or so. But soon I hear voices again. This time it’s a couple: a man and a woman. As they start to approach I assess them. The husband is wearing a shirt with a huge American flag across the front and the Punisher logo on top of that.

I immediately tense up. I knew well enough that the far right wore the Punisher logo. It meant the same exact thing to me as a confederate flag, don’t tread on me flag, christian cross, American flag, or anything else of the like. All of those symbols were the same. And all of them sent the same message. The woman smiles at me as they approach.

“Hi! Have you seen the pond yet?”

“Yes, it’s just up ahead.”

The man doesn’t speak or smile. He barely looks at me. The woman thanks me and they move on.

If they knew, they absolutely would have killed me. I think.

I run into only one other person on the hike, a Korean photographer. We were both lost at the time we met, and his English was difficult to understand. But I made out that he was looking for the trail to the parking lot. I pointed and told him the way I thought it was, but that this was my first time on the trail and wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if he fully understood me. So I just pointed down the trail. After we parted way, I wondered again,

What if he knew? I knew nothing at all about Korean culture. Did they hate trans people too? Or was that just in America?

I wandered for some time, trying to find the right path back. I had 2 hours of daylight left so wasn’t too concerned and my compass said I was heading west, the direction I knew the parking lot was in. So I knew even if I didn’t recognize this part of the trail, I was heading the right way. I stopped by a little stream. Tired, I sat down on the small wooden bridge going across it. Letting my legs dangle over it’s edge and feeling my blood pound in my feet, I took out a protein bar and a bag of apple slices. As I ate my snack, I looked out to the scenery. It was so peaceful and quiet. So quiet in fact that I could close my eyes and listen to the leaves move through the gentle breeze. It was my absolute favorite sound in the entire world. The day was perfect. And it was exactly why I drove so far out of the suburbs to hike in a place like this.

I just wished…

I wished that…

I wished…

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ we'll never be equal .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Jamil Viper x rich gn! reader

𓏵 589 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, unestablished relationship with reader, angst, hurt/no comfort, light swearing (there's like one swear word) (-"-;)

feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Jamil knows he shouldn’t resent you.

It isn’t your fault that you were born into wealth. That your life was easy. That you never had to fight, scrape, and claw your way toward even the smallest freedoms. He knows it’s irrational—knows it in the way he knows how to force a polite smile, how to school his features into something unreadable.

And yet, every time he looks at you, something inside him twists painfully.

Because you will never understand. Not truly.

It starts with something simple. A party. Another one of those extravagant, glittering events meant for people like you. Meant for people born into gold-lined cradles, into families who never had to kneel before anyone.

You invite him. Of course you do. Jamil doesn’t think twice before declining.

“You never want to go anywhere with me,” you say, frowning.

He knows you’re trying not to sound upset, but there’s that tone in your voice—one that makes his teeth clench.

You don’t get it. You never get it.

It’s not just a party to him. It’s a reminder. A reminder that he doesn’t belong, that he’ll always be the one lingering on the edges of a world he was never meant to step foot in. That no matter how much you claim to love him, you will never truly see him as anything other than someone below you.

He gives you a carefully neutral look. “I’m busy.”

You scoff. “Jamil, you always say that.”

“I always am.”

“You work too much. You don’t have to—”

And there it is.

That naive, well-meaning ignorance.

His patience snaps. “Yes, I do.”

Your brows furrow. “No, you don’t. You’re not—”

Not just a servant. That’s what you want to say. Not only Kalim’s babysitter.

He laughs—sharp, humorless. “Don’t act like you get it.”

“I’m just saying you don’t have to push yourself so hard,” you say, defensive now. “I don’t understand why you—”

“Of course, you don’t understand.” His voice is colder than he intends, but he’s past caring. “You’ve never had to.”

You reel back, looking genuinely caught off guard. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

A pause.

“Jamil…” You reach for him, but he steps away. “That’s not how I see you. I don’t—”

He cuts you off before you can say something unbearably naive. Before you can say I don’t see class, I just see you.

Because that’s bullshit.

It doesn’t matter how much you claim otherwise. There’s a fundamental gap between you—one that can’t be crossed with good intentions and sweet words.

Because at the end of the day, you will look at him differently. Even if you don’t mean to.

Even if you love him.

Later that night, Jamil lies awake, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion weighing heavily on his body.

Your words echo in his head.

"That’s not how I see you."

He wants to believe you. Maybe some part of him does.

But he’s spent too long being less than. Too long being second place.

And love doesn’t change reality.

It doesn’t erase the years he spent bending over backward for a future that was never his to claim. It doesn’t erase the way his hands still move with the efficiency of someone raised to serve. It doesn’t erase the instinct to bow his head, to anticipate the needs of others before his own.

It doesn’t erase the bitter truth:

You were born to have the world handed to you.

He was born to carry it.

And that is something no amount of love can fix.

[theboost]

None of the Highlander sequels were good but I was entertained by all of them in their own way

[milo-is-rambling]

Omg yesterday at my moms therapy I said how well I had been doing and feeling like I can actually handle life and my mom was immediately like “that’s because you’ve been taking your meds regularly again” and like completely brushed off any progress I had actually made and I had to be like yeah totally that’s it that’s why exactly when I haven’t taken my meds for a week straight in idk how long

[rosicheeks]

oh yes you were at court! i forgot that was at the start of that post lmao. i've been to court twice when i was super young for drinking underage and then smoking lool it was so boring and long and shit but thankfully you were just there for moral support, i hope it wasen't such a bad thing your friend had to deal with! I remember seeing you post about moving but i forget if it was TO or AWAY from your parents but that clears it up. I totally get you on that though, i'm living at home right now and i feel kind of similar about not feeling comfortable in your own home. Its a bit different for me, but similar enough. Hell my stepdad even sleeps in the living room too! hes always done that so ive always felt like i had to be on eggshells when night time hit. I used to sneak smoking in the backyard back in the day myself, i got caught once when i was in highschool he made me throw all my pieces out which sucked big time. ahhh i love that, art! you should totally show more stuff on here too, at least if you're comfortable and its not stuff you'd wanna sell, i would absolutely love to see any of it 🖤i've dabbled in writing poems and things i planned to make songs, although only recently. I've always wanted to be a musician but my attempts at learning guitar over the years have never ended up lasting long and i try to learn singing but i just dont really think i can. plus i was always afraid of self expression so i never wrote until a few years ago. i still do, because music is so important to me (which is why i did pick 🎤!) and it makes me so happy but yeah. i have 2 shows im headed to in a few months even so im so excited 🥰my day though has been so boring, i mostly played video games and watched youtube videos. watched another episode of a show i've been watching called Silo, which i absolutely love. im so surprised you had room in your tags still after myself lmao, but i do that same thing i always talk in the tags! also i'm giving you tons of hugs and kisses 😘🥰 - 🎤

Hi hi hi ☺️ how are you doing lovely? 🥰

[venomnyx]

HOUSE IN NEBRASKA — Logan "Worst Wolverine" Howlett x Mutant!Reader AO3 version Spotify Playlist

WORD COUNT — 15.4k SUMMARY — Reader gets roped into saving the timeline with ex-best friend Deadpool, coming face-to-face with a variant of Logan that uproots memories she'd long suppressed, only to find that this version of him lost her in his universe, too. TAGS/WARNINGS — she/her pronouns (minimal usage), female anatomy, flashbacks in italics, angst, enemies to lovers, alcoholism, smoking, arguments, canon typical violence, cursing/bad language, Deadpool breaks the fourth wall like twice, canon behaviour worst wolverine, religious trauma, honda odyssey scene self-insert, eventual smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, dirty nasty talk (logan has a filthy mouth), mentions of cocaine literally once. smut is marked after last divider if you want to skip plot but i'll kiss you if you don't!

You’re smoking a cigarette on your porch when the snowfall happens. It would be normal, you think, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s dead in the middle of July. A group of nanas, elbow-deep in the community garden soil, glance up to the sky and begin muttering prayers amongst themselves.

You’ve lived in this safe house for a while now, up in the mid-west of the Appalachian mountains, surrounded by thickets of pine and opposite a bubbling creek. You grew up somewhere near here and the locals welcomed you back with open arms and a plateful of hot food when the humans started the culling— when the X-men fell apart.

It has plenty of benefits. The smell of lavender, for one, and your cat, Kevin, loves chasing the pigeons, even if he’s not the most successful hunter. The locally sourced produce means you can avoid the poisoned food they’re distributing in supermarkets.

But, most importantly, the humans can’t find you out here. You’re lucky the gossip of your… genetics, so to speak, doesn’t leave Sunday morning church.

Things have been different, lately. The trees are shedding down to dust, people are disappearing at an exponential rate, and there was a time when you’d be on the front lines helping them. You’re on the edge of your seat waiting for the call — a learned habit — but it’s never coming. Charles is dead. Logan is dead. The X-men are dead.

The snow is warm when it lands on your skin. It feels like rot, and your solitude suddenly feels lonelier and more daunting than ever.

You reach to take a sip of your steaming coffee when you hear movement. A zipping strobe light crosses your vision and you flinch against the intrusion, but you’re not afraid. You’ve surely survived worse.

Stryker worse.

A comical and confused looking figure pops out from an orange portal, scratching the crown of his head over the red and black mask on his face. You sip your coffee as you observe him nonchalantly.

He notices you and approaches with a dainty point of his finger.

“Um, excuse me, ma’am.”

“Well, well well,” you suck on your cigarette with a frown. “Look what the cat dragged in. Got a new suit, Red?”

“What, aren’t you happy to see lil’ old me?”

“You’re on my property,” you say matter-of-factually. You had a shotgun stowed away inside for emergencies, but frankly, you never had to use it. You were enough of a weapon yourself. Consider it insurance, if the corn-syrup they’re poisoning ever finally makes it way to you.

You glance sidelong at the old ladies in their aprons, clutching one another with stern gazes in your direction. The deal was that you didn’t bring trouble their way — but it looks like trouble found you. You narrow your eyes and silently hope that this doesn’t turn messy, as it so usually does where he’s concerned.

He sighs heavily and continues approaching regardless. You analyse his stature and take notes of the weapons on his holsters and back. You reckon you could take him if it came down to it, but he didn’t seem threatening.

You and Wade used to be friends, but after isolating yourself from grief, you don’t necessarily consider yourselves to have a close relationship. More often than not he brought trouble; hence your defensive response.

“Listen, ants in your pants, I’ve done this about a hundred times,” he huffs and places a hand on his hip, waving the device around in his hand. You take another drag of your cigarette and perk your brows before rising to your feet.

“I’ve had my spleen shattered by the Hulk, about eighty stab wounds…”

He rambles on about his collection of injuries and you tilt your head with amusement. Must be another one of his famous mental breakdowns. This might be entertaining, at the very least.

“…You’ve even killed me a few times in different universes!” He claps his hands together. “And frankly, I was just going to let you die here. You’re not even canon, so you won’t be missed, but you appear to be of use to me. So I need you to come with me. Now. Please.”

What on Earth was he talking about? What on Earth was he ever talking about?

You bark a laugh. “I ain’t going anywhere with you, Red and Black.”

“Will it change your mind if I add a cherry on top?” He asks with a dry laugh before nodding enthusiastically. Manically. “You’re coming. Kevin’s life depends on it.”

“What are you talkin’ about? Are you threatenin’ my cat? That’s a new low, Wade.”

“Is it? Is it really? I am certain that I can go unfathomably lower.”

You roll your eyes, half-way through turning your back on him.

“You see this?” He holds out a gloved hand and catches some snowflakes. He rubs them between his fingers and they spark and fizzle before dusting away. “That’s not snow. That’s time death. Our universe is dying, womp womp. Stay here, sure! By all means, but—”

Your cat launches out of the door behind you, chirping and meowing to himself before promptly dashing through the portal and disappearing into the blurry void on the other side.

“Well. Looks like he made his choice.”

He sighs and lets you process. You take the final swig of your coffee and huff a breath.

“You literally have nothing left to lose. Trust me. I know. I’ve seen all kinds of you and, believe me when I say this, even though I love and cherish this version of you, this—” he points two fingers at you and gestures towards you judgmentally. “— isn’t the best look on you, honey.”

You want to dismiss him. You want to turn him away, to tell him to get lost. Grief swallowed your heroism whole, turning it into a barren wasteland of bitter indifference. You used to be bright, full of light, love, and hope.

Fucking hope. It’s the reason Logan left you to help Charles in the first place. You just wanted to settle down and disappear, to live a normal life. You lost an intrinsic part of your being when he died; you remember feeling it before you heard the news. Fucking hope.

Hope, hope, hope. Nana Rose chants on about it when she clasps your hands with her wrinkly ones, dragging you to church in spite of your atheism.

“And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts,” she chants, basket of flowers on her hip. “Romans 5:5. You’d do well to do your readin’, tulip.”

You didn’t and don’t ever usually believe a word she says, but you can feel her faith. It’s solid as steel, pouring out of her like blotting light through the gaps in the trees. Undying. And you’ll be damned if you let anything happen to her.

A flicker remains. You imagine what Charles would say to you now, how you’d hang onto his every word and he’d bring out the better of you. You truly do have nothing left to lose, except maybe your cat. Over your dead body.

“Come ooon,” he pokes his fingers together. “Fancy being a hero? One last time?”

You take the final drag before stubbing the cigarette out on your railing. “Alright, Red. I’ll bite.”

“Then suit up.”

Your friendship with Deadpool was a rocky one. There was a time you told him you’d be there for him through everything, and you technically owed him one for saving your life that one time even though your ego insists that, to this day, you could’ve taken the fight. That’s what heightened cellular control of your body is for, right? Accelerated healing? Empathetic abilities? Faster reactions, enhanced strength— you get the point.

Though you didn’t realise that returning the favour meant following him through space, time and alternate dimensions, you were a person who stayed true to their word, and you hated being indebted to someone.

So, here you were, waking up in the middle of a barren wasteland that was seconded as a cocktail soup of abandoned universal relics and heroes ripped from their worlds, accompanying your ex-best friend to restore your timeline.

But, one thing about paying someone back, it doesn’t technically count if they lie to you about the terms and conditions of the agreement. Only a few mere moments after you come to, dazed by the impact and the blaring wobbly heat of the sun, you rise to watch as Deadpool takes six blades of Wolverine to the chest.

You’re still a little dizzy when you stagger to your feet, head throbbing, as you’re trying to process if, yes, that’s exactly what you were witnessing.

“Let’s see you grow your fuckin’ head back!” Wolverine growls.

Deadpool holds his hands up in surrender. “Wait, wait, wait! I can fix it! I can fix it!”

The man in yellow hesitates. “Fix what?”

“Whatever it is that you did, whatever made you so bad—” Wade pants, catching his breath. “Those pricks at the TVA, you heard ‘em. They have the power to end my universe, but they also have the power to change yours. We get back there, and we can fix your world! Together. I promise.”

You stumble from around a pile of debris, clutching your side as a rib pops back into place. Wolverine sniffs the air, face blanching as he snaps to look in your direction.

When you first make eye contact with him, it feels as though you’re resurfacing from water after being on the precipice of drowning. Your heart leaps into your throat, adrenaline boils your veins and your lungs burst with relief of breathing.

“Troubles always gonna find you, baby,” Logan murmurs, kissing his way up from the pulse in your throat as he rocks against you. “But so am I.”

You’ve never loved him more, you think, than when he fucks you slow like this. A snowstorm rages outside the cabin, howling full of glass and needles and rattling the window frames. His skin against yours burns a fire within you, warming you to the bone. He sweeps hair away from your face before capturing your mouth in his, swallowing the sounds of your pants, threading his fingers between yours.

You could stay here forever, you think.

Your fingers shake from the whiplash of the memory. You instinctively reach towards him but you catch yourself. This was the husk of him, not your Logan. The realisation feels akin to ripping open a haphazardly sewn wound right down to the fatty yellow flesh, raw and needling and sore.

He’s broader than you remember. Hair a little darker, wrinkles a little deeper. He smells of alcohol and cigars — that much is familiar. That’s him, flesh and adamantium bone, living, breathing. Alive. The physical shell of him prods alive parts of your inner circuitry that you weren’t aware had fallen asleep, like intrinsic nerves untangling within you.

You can sense that he knows you, too, based on his emotional response. His noise is extremely loud, spilling out of the cracks of whatever wall he thought he’d successfully built up. This version of Logan certainly had a lot of secrets.

“You,” he whisper-growls. It’s almost intangible, leaving him like a breath. He pulls his blades promptly from Deadpool’s chest and kicks him backwards.

You’re starting to understand that faith thing that Nana Rose was knocking on about when he strides towards you, large and tall. You certainly weren’t a believer by any means but you’re sure you’d be the picture of unbridled worship for the way you’d fall to your knees for him.

Your empathetic power lurches for him, seeking him out as you used to — like a flower to the sun — but it physically recoils from the aura that it touches. It was all your Logan but not in a familiar way. It’s tainted, dark, and it tastes like copper and screams.

All colour melts from his face and his body shuffles in a way that indicates discomfort; a dry swallow, tense shoulders and flicking eyes that refuse to meet your gaze. He omits feelings of guilt and shame that linger on the tendrils of your empathetic powers where you connect with him.

You try to zone Wade out, squinting as you attempt to navigate through his cobweb of emotions (seriously, this guy’s aura could do with a cleanup) but it’s like wading through black-tar syrup, feelings negated by years of alcohol-abuse and avoidance. Eventually, you feel something that makes your guts twist and your legs shake: a version of romantic attraction and recognition so carnal and raw that you begin to blush, a warmth that creeps its way up from your belly. A breath escapes you like a punch.

“Well. This feels awkward.” Wade glances between you both and places his hands on his hips. “Why do you both look like you’ve seen a ghost? Do I need to call Egon Splegler and tell him to bring his ghost sucky-sucky vacuum? Oh my god—” He slaps his hands to his face and gasps sharply. “Cross-Universal lovers?”

As inappropriately timed and tone-deaf his one-liners could be, you’d never been more appreciative of an icebreaker. You think you could’ve stood there for an hour, frozen in silence, staring at a reanimated corpse, basking in the noise of his emotional frequency like an addict finally getting another hit.

But then the noise stops, swallowed up like a heaving black hole had split and atomised the tension whole with its unforgiving jaws. He closes himself off from you. Connection severed. You reach out and feel a cold nothingness similar to how, on particularly rough nights, you’d try to reach out to him after his passing. You’d clung onto his plaid shirts until the smell and emotional residue wore off of them.

“You with the mouth? To fix things?”

You nod tightly. You don’t think you can find your voice in front of him.

“Let’s just keep moving. And stay out of my head,” Logan grumbles, crossing you with a cold shoulder and mumbling something incoherent under his breath. When he’s made enough distance, you turn to your old friend with a cold glare.

“Ooh, brr. Anybody else feel a chill?”

“Wade.”

He twists towards you comically slow.

“You. Motherfucker.” You begin approaching him. He backs up slowly and holds his hands up.

“I knew if I told you the plan you wouldn’t have gone along with it!”

“Are you insane? You think multiversally grave-robbing my fucking dead ex-boyfriend is going to save our timelines?!” You yell.

“Technically he’s not dead—”

You push him. “He should be! He- he was— he is!”

“Well, this one isn’t!” He pushes back. “And I’m not sorry for finding a loophole in the plan to fry — not just mine, mind you — but both of our timelines! Did you happen to forget that? No multi-dimensional depressed Logan? Alright then! No more Kevin!”

He’s talking about your cat. Anger flares.

“Don’t you dare bring Kevin into this.”

“You forced my hand!” He yells, mouth moving alien-like behind the mask on his face. “Besides, I’m not doing this for me—”

You blink your eyes closed. You might reach the end of your tether if he said her name one more time. You’ve been in his company for approximately an hour, and he’s already drilled a hole into your brain with his incessant yapping about the “love of his life”.

“Wade, you need to move on. She clearly has.”

“I will not move on from the only people I love in this fucked up dimension. This isn’t just for Vanessa.” He shoves a glossy photograph in your face. “This is for you and blind Al and even that shit-head teenager and her pinkie-pie girlfriend! They deserve their timeline!”

“I literally don’t care about any of those people!”

Even yourself?

“Well, I do! I have people I care about! Aren’t you supposed to be a hero? God, all of you X-men are so depressing. Is it the suits they make you wear? Is that it? Can’t breathe in that thing?” He continues poking at you. “Loosen up a little!”

You straighten your posture and the black leather of your suit crackles. You swat his hands away as he continues poking. “Alright! Cut it out!”

“Think of Nana Rose.” He draws a heart with two fingers. “Little old ladies like her deserve a chance, don’t they?”

And even though humans had done nothing but wage war on your kind for simply existing, you still felt obliged to help them. Besides, the thought of other mutants — kid mutants — dying when you hold the chance to save them in the palm of your hand? You were hardly managing as you were now. You’re not sure you’d be able to live with yourself if you kept going like this.

“Alright, alright!” You huff, heart pounding in your chest. You look over at where Wolverine kicks at rocks in the distance. “Fucking hell, Red. Holy fuck.”

You say it again, only this time you scream it into your hands.

“You should’ve warned me.”

“Are we good?”

“Are we go—” You scoff. You kick his ankle, feel the bones shatter and crunch beneath your foot. He lets out a short, high-pitched yelp. “You deserved that.”

“Motherfuckermotherfucker… oh you’re lucky I feel bad about lying to you or I would’ve twisted your milk bags off for that I swear to God.” He sucks in a breath. “I’ll allow it. Just this once.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, walking forward. “That doesn’t sound like an apology.”

He limps after you, floppy ankle dragging a line in the sandy dirt. “I’ll be dead before you ever get one of those out of me! And too bad I can’t fucking die!”

The difference between this Logan and your Logan is stark, minus the uncanny resemblance. Your Logan was soft and gentle, but this version is sharper and blade-edged, and your fingers bleed when you try to touch him.

Staring at him feels like throwing up a mirror and analysing yourself, a picture of what happens to a person when they make all of the wrong choices. You’re embarrassed, almost. This isn’t a version of you that you ever want him to know, but at least you can say you’re trying.

Him, on the other hand…

“Are we going to keep up the awkward silence?” You snip, awkwardly adjusting the restraints on your wrist.

You’ve been in Logan’s company for all of an hour, and yet accompanying one another through literal time purgatory didn’t seem to irk any feelings of obligation from his end. He’d been cold-shouldering and ignoring you the entire time, even though you kept catching him staring.

“I have nothing to say to you,” he spits, wriggling uncomfortably against a very unconscious Deadpool. “You got us into this mess.”

You frown, small. You can feel hatred pouring out from him, leaving a sickly bile taste in the back of your throat. You’ve lived through enough hate for being a mutant in your lifetime, enough that you’d become accustomed to tuning it out of your radio channel, so to speak, but something about it coming from the man you loved makes it a little harder to swallow.

You’re quiet when you next speak. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

He shoots you an indistinguishable look and grunts to himself. Such a Libra.

“So, what’s the story here?” Johnny asks with a sly grin. He turns to you with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. “You two know each other?”

You cringe. “Sort of. Last I remember, he wasn’t this much of a prick.”

“Oh, trouble in paradise, huh?” His grin grows. “That’s a shame. Not often we get girls like you in the void.”

“Seriously?” You say with a side-eye.

He shrugs, all blue-spandex biceps and charming smile. “No harm in trying.”

Your breath hitches as Cassandra approaches, wide eyes and tilted head aiming for you purposefully. Logan swiftly angles his body so that he’s standing in front of you and she halts as a delighted, implicating smile stretches across her face. Your chest constricts, tendrils of yearning coiling tighter. It appeared to be muscle memory: his instinctual, protective flinch. Just like your Logan used to, despite how capable he knew you were.

“Now, I’ve always wanted a Wolverine.” Her finger moves along the crowd. “Knew I’d get one eventually. But I never even dreamed of having you.”

Cassandra zips behind you and her slender fingers delve into the crevices and valleys of your brain, lips intimately close to your neck and ear. Wolverine snarls territoriality, but he’s unable to move. The urge to reach for him is overwhelming.

“Do you know that there are so few universes where you exist?” She whispers, caressing your deepest memories. “I even asked the TVA about you, in exchange for keeping the peace. I was disheartened when I found out one of you died. But you’re here! Now, I don’t believe in fate, but this almost feels like it was meant to be.”

You flinch when she uncovers a particularly fond memory, one you hadn’t been aware was so prominently in the forefront.

In the back of his truck, a cigar between his teeth, hands sliding under your shirt. In another world, he would’ve taken the time to do this properly, but living in a school didn’t exactly grant two consenting adults any privacy.

“Waited long enough for this.”

He kisses up from your bare foot to the sensitive skin of your inner knee, lips scorching against your skin.

“Logan…”

“Easy,” he murmurs, leaning away for a moment to remove his plaid overshirt, leaving himself in that white vest you could eat him alive in. “Still wanna take my time with you.”

You’re desperate, he can tell— can probably smell it, too, but you’re far too humiliated to ask him if he can.

Logan wasn’t your first by any means, but with the way you were near trembling for him truly felt like you’d be losing all of your innocence in the back seat. You’re shy and quiet, everything he isn’t. You’re infatuated with him — have been since he burst out of the lab in his grey hoodie — and have daydreamed about what it would be like to have him. You certainly didn’t let him know that right away, and with whatever shred of composure remained around his relentless flirting and teasing remarks, you tried to play hard to get.

Until you couldn’t. Because you weren’t. He had you, and with every fibre of your being, you wanted him to.

She pulls her hands from your brain with a shlick sound, rubbing her fingers together as if relishing in the produce of your memories. She grabs a rag from her pocket and smirks knowingly.

“You’re thinking of that at a time like this?” She laughs all witch-like. “Worry not; your secret’s safe with me, naughty girl.”

Wade lowers his voice and leans towards Logan. “She was thinking of me.”

“I can read between the lines, darling,” she potters on. “This isn’t about a sexual fantasy. Deep down, you just want to be wanted. To be loved.”

She steps back and extends her arms. “After all, you’ll never amount to anything in your world. It’s such a shame that your Logan left you so abruptly. Did he break your heart?” She giggles. “Why suppress your powers in his name? For a level-five mutant, you certainly don’t act like one. You can do that, here. Freely!”

Your worn thin tether creaks with exhaustion like a dilapidated bridge under pressure. There isn’t a singular fibre of your being that desires to be stuck here, but the small, angry teenage voice in your head would love nothing more than to just let go. You’d been containing your powers for as far as you can remember, and they'd always been as irresistible as the promise of Pandora's box.

But you know how that story ends.

You take a moment’s pause. “I have no interest in livin’ in a garbage dump.”

She tilts her head and neatly clasps her hands behind her back. “Do you forget where you come from? I think we both know who lives in a garbage dump.”

“You motherf—”

You’d just managed to escape Cassandra’s lair with Alioth’s foggy storm fangs nipping at your ankles when you ran across the abandoned diner.

You’re ravenous, wrist aching from how you dig at the freezer-burned ice cream. It’s your least favourite flavour but you’ve been running on fumes for the past day or so, so you’ll take what you can get, though you begin to lose your appetite when you remember Johnny, and how Cassandra had zipped the skin from him like popping a blood-filled water balloon.

Something is rumbling beneath your surface. A distinct, constant buzzing, like two atoms slowly building up radioactive energy. You’d asked for none of this, and would certainly give Wade a talking to when the time called for it, but, for now, you’re trying your hardest to make this as easy a process as possible.

Your male counterpart, however, was doing exactly what men generally do. He was making this fucking unbearable.

Logan sits across from you, brooding, fingers gripping the medicinal bottle as if it’s anywhere near appropriate to be drinking. He throws you a particularly lingering glare when he notices you staring, but refuses to maintain eye contact when you look back at him

You toss the tub and spoon across the table with a sharp clatter, your patience collapsing.

“What? Can’t even look at me?” You snap. His eyes look exhausted when they finally meet yours. Wade, being the characteristic little fucker he is, pulls a delighted, shit-stirring grin as he glances between the two of you as if watching a tennis match.

Logan gasps as he finishes taking a drink. “Not much to look at,” he says, wiping the back of his mouth.

The words twist like a fist in your gut. For a moment, you’re rendered too stunned to respond, like he’d tossed a flash-bang toward you. His casual cruelty digs deeper than you care to admit— but you’ve had far too much therapy, too much psychological training, to know he’s deflecting.

But you wouldn’t doubt for a second that there was a more beautiful version of you somewhere.

“What, you comparin’ me to someone?” You ask. You can tell you’ve struck a nerve by the way he goes for another sip. “That it?”

He grimaces.

“Do I make you feel sick? Am I making you feel sick?”

He stares at you hard, but silently. He takes a long swig of the rubbing alcohol and you cringe as his throat bobs. His silence and feigned indifference light a fire of indignation.

“You know, you’re not the only person who’s suffered. Who’s lost people.”

He laughs like what you’re saying is funny. “Yeah, right, bub, you have got no idea what loss is.”

“Oh, you are such a fucking cunt,” you spit, slamming your hands on the table as you rise to your feet. “You know what, Wade? You’re right. I can’t do this. So fuck you and fuck his timeline and fuck every timeline that had anything to do with it! I’m done.”

A wave of uncontrolled psionic energy born from your anger blasts from you upon your final words, slamming them back into their seats and sending the cutlery, nearby debris and weapons flying. The neighbouring windows smash, shattering explosively and sprinkling outside of the diner.

The simmering stops, replaced by a stifling emptiness.

“I wasn’t finished with that!” Wade cries, crouching down to scoop up what remains of the gelatinous spam.

You pause for a moment, glance at your hands, and then grab your jacket in an aggressive fit.

Wade whines your name, halfway through gagging down a forkful of cold spam off of the floor (one of which resonates with a particularly distinct crunch, but you don’t stay to find out whether or not he just truly ate glass), and he doesn’t attempt to get up and follow you as you storm off.

You take a heaving breath of hot desert air when you leave the diner. The sandy breeze tousles your hair, and with the prickly energy of an incoming nervous breakdown, your legs kick and you’re running.

“Stryker got you, too?” Logan asks, eyebrows flicking up.

You don’t look him in the eye when you nod. You cross your arms and slouch a little, caging your heart in. Stryker — the ex-militant with a fetish for experimenting on mutants — had held you captive for several years. He’d brainwashed you into using your empathetic abilities for nefarious purposes, like seducing other mutants, and sometimes important political and militant figures.

“You like me?” He questions, quieter this time.

“No… no, not like you,” you reply. “I don’t have the fancy bones. I heal fast, but I wouldn’t survive that kinda procedure.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t remember everything. Just bits and pieces. Feelings, mostly. Nightmares,” you explain. He nods understandingly. “I’m always on edge.”

“You always seem so calm,” he observes. “Nothing seems to phase you.”

“I have to be. It took a lot of pain and damage to get this level-headed,” you respond quickly. “If I don’t manage my emotions, all the emotions that I receive, touch— it all comes out. Explosively. It has to come out somehow. I could hurt people.”

“Funny. School therapist ‘n’ you’ve got the most issues,” he teases light-heartedly.

“You got no idea, lumberjack.”

You hated killing.

You’re on your knees, arms and hands and chest soaked crimson, sobbing. They’d come out of nowhere, the raiders, and they were hungry for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. All you know is that you felt their need, their desperation, their willingness to do anything to get it.

The flash of harrowing horror someone feels before they die isn’t a unique experience. It simply varies in strength — sometimes it’s a feather-like touch that careens over you, a shuddering realisation that they’re taking their last breath, and sometimes it’s like a crack of lightning. Bloodied hands gripping your biceps with fear in a final attempt to survive. They’d rather cling to you than die alone.

You hate killing. Especially this up close.

You don’t cry for them. You don’t even cry for yourself. It’s a small emotional space where they cry vicariously through you.

You were black-out when it happened, you tell yourself, and suddenly regress to the student you used to be, sobbing on your knees in front of Charles as he tries to teach you serenity and control after an outburst had caused you to kill a nest of birds. He’d done it for Magneto, he said— so he could certainly do it for you.

You should have meditated more.

The sound of a car gurgles somewhere behind you, but you haven’t the energy to look or use your powers to seek out who’s approaching and what their intent is. You’re exhausted enough that whatever they wish to do with you — turn you to processed dog kibble, send you back into the jaws of Cassandra’s lair, kill you — whatever. Just let it happen.

A slamming car door and then the crunching of boots on gravel.

“You’re easy to track.” A pause. “You look pathetic. You done throwing your tantrum?”

Logan. Of course, it’s him.

“Leave me alone, prick.”

“As much as I’d like to, you and the Mouth still have to hold up your end of the bargain,” he quips, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Now get up.”

You glare up at him and his arms unfurl as he notices your tear-streaked face. His expression drops, softens, before it quickly ticks back up into an incredulous, irritated look.

“Are you crying?” He asks with a scoff. He pauses before dragging his hand down his face and rubbing his scruffy jaw. “Jesus Christ. Get up. Get in the car.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ around, Logan. Piss. Off.”

He mumbles a string of incoherent curses and turns on his heel. You think, for a moment and a breath of relief, that he’s truly going to give up on you and leave. He could finish this without you. It’s easier this way.

Instead, a thick bicep wraps around your middle and you’re flung over his shoulder with a yelp.

“Quit your squirmin’.”

“Then put me down!” You yell, thrashing in his grasp. He promptly ignores you, unphased by the jabs you strike at his back. You quickly unsheath the small knife from your jacket sleeve, winding up your arm before you drive it into the muscly pocket by his kidneys.

“Ow! Cheap shot, you little fucker!”

Wade sighs and clutches his hands in front of his chest romantically. “Oh, the newlyweds.”

Logan dumps you into the front seat of the car carelessly, grumbling something as he slams the door shut and applies the child locks. Petty motherfucker.

You rub the sore spot on your tailbone where you landed on a seat buckle funny. You want to bite your tongue but you’re flared up.

“We should switch places. I’m a better driver than you are.”

Logan doesn’t bother looking at you as he starts up the ignition. “Just shut up.”

“You can go on ahead and smoke a cat turd in hell, then.”

“So fuckin’ immature. Grow up.”

“Mom and Dad can you please stop fighting!” Deadpool cries out from the backseats.

You just roll your eyes, resigning into your chair and folding your arms.

At some point along the ride, Wade falls asleep, snoring soundly to himself. You’re silent in the front, drumming a beat on your knees, awkwardly thinking of something to say. You have the impulsive need to fill the silence, even if you were trapped in a crappy car with a man who had made it vehemently clear that he irrevocably hated you.

“So, if they can fix your world, what’s the first thing you’ll do?”

Logan rips his eyes towards you. “What did you say?”

“I said when you get back, what’s the first thing—”

“No, no, no— before that.”

You hesitate, wondering if you’d landed yourself in a trap based on the sharpness of his tone and the way that anger crackles off of him like static lightning.

“If… they can fix your world?”

He slams his foot on the brake and you just about catch yourself before your nose goes flying into the dashboard. Wade is thrust out of the front window, smashing through and promptly falling unconscious underneath a tree, neck broken at an awkward angle.

Your eyes widen.

“What do you mean: if?”

“That’s what Wade said—”

“I don’t give a fuck who said what. He promised me he would fix things—”

“Well, I didn’t promise you shit!”

He laughs, low and devoid of humour. “You don’t have a clue if they can fix things, do you?”

Well, no. You’ve been operating on a hunch the entire time and had half come to accept that you might be stuck in the TVA void forever. Who knows how much time has passed elsewhere?

Regardless of the fact you truly had nothing to do with whatever came out of Wade’s mouth, you weren’t about to let Mr. Worst Wolverine shit all over him and his plan to save his friends.

“Is it really that far-fetched? We made an educated wish!”

Something dark flashes across his face. You can feel hate pulsing off of him in dizzying waves, doubling with each passing moment.

“You made… an educated fucking wish?”

“What’s your problem with me, huh? Got a stick up your ass?” You reach for the car door handle, but he snaps up your wrist, holding it high. “You better let go of me right now, old man—”

“Or what, huh? Gonna run away again?” He threatens.

“You geriatric, alcoholic motherfucker. I’ve done nothin’ but try and be civil with you and you treat me like I’m the one who ruined your life! I don’t know what version of me you knew but you need to stop actin’ like I ain’t worthy of being here because of what you did!”

“Listen, I’ll tell you what my problem is with you—” he leans closer, eyes roving over you with a disgusted look on his face. “I mean, you are a ridiculous, emotional, immature crybaby. I have never met a sadder, more attention-seeking, foul-mouthed little bitch in my entire life and that says a lot because I’ve been alive for more than two hundred fuckin’ years.”

“And I’ll tell you, that bald chick was right about one thing: you will never amount to anything. You’ll never save the world. You couldn’t even save a relationship with me. I’d say you should’ve died alone but it’s one of God’s best jokes that in this universe you didn’t seem to fuckin’ die, except that ones on the rest of all of us!”

He breathes heavily when his rant finishes. You’re taken aback, jaw slack, eyes warm with the onset of tears born from shock.

“What, you got nothin’ to say, empath?”

You suck in a deep breath, blinking slowly as you flick the emotional switch off in your head.

“I’m going to hurt you now.”

He snorts. “Oh, are you?”

In a swift manoeuvre, you raise your slap him around the face. You knew better than to punch a metal skull, but you still wanted him to sting. His eyes slit, nostrils flaring in challenge.

“That all you got?”

“Not even close,” you snap back, knuckles whitening from the way you curl your fingers into your palm. “You want to play this game, Logan? Fine— but I’m not gonna sit here and keep on provin’ myself to you. I’ve had enough of your Christ-born-again superiority complex. Did you forget that you’re the worst Wolverine?”

“Oh, yeah? Well, at least I’m honest about who I am. Look at you— you’re a fuckin’ joke, pretending to be some hero in a suit made for a dead team,” he barks back, voice rising with each word. “I don’t need your bullshit “wishes”— you should know, I’ve buried people for less.”

“Yeah, because you’re so perfect, ain’t that right?” You yell, voice cracking from the power of your anger. “The almighty Wolverine— the unkillable bastard who can’t seem to hold onto anythin’ good in his life! You’ve had centuries to get your shit together, and look at you—” You look him up and down with disgust. “—still just a bitter, lonely, broken man, takin’ it out on everyone else and a goddamn bottle.”

His eyes narrow, muscles in his jaw twitching as he appears to fight and keep his temper in check, but there’s an obvious crack forming, the dam of his unbridled rage near overflowing.

“You think you know me, huh?” He murmurs, voice a deadly whisper, the calm before the storm. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about what I’ve been through. You’re nothing but a lost woman playing make-believe and hiding in the shadow of a fuckin’ merc. You’re pathetic.”

Something inside of you breaks. “I’m pathetic? Look at yourself! You’re so goddamn desperate to feel anythin’ that you’ll lash out at everyone around you for some semblance of warmth. There’s a fine line between hate and love, after all! You think you’re so strong because you can heal, because you’ve lived forever? Yeah, right— you’re the weakest, most cowardly man I’ve met in a loong time.”

The blades between his knuckles shoot out with a shink! For a moment, you think that he’s going to attack you. Hell— you even hope that he will, just to diminish some of the unbearable, stifling tension. Instead, the blades retract with a deep breath, and he grabs you forcefully by the collar of your suit, yanking you so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

His voice is low and rough, each word dripping with venom. “Go on, keep psychoanalysing me. You wanna talk about cowardice? How about leaving people who need you, just because it’s easier to run? Better yet, how about the fact that you abandoned the X-men to hide away in the mountains, huh?”

Your eyes widen with recognition.

“Yeah… Wade’s got a big mouth. Told me everythin’. You’re no hero. Hell, you’re just a selfish, reckless hillbilly who failed at pretending to be human.”

Your heart palpitates in your chest, each word coiling and slicing like blades in your intestines, but you refuse to let him see how much it hurts. Instead, your lips curl into a cold, bitter smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And you’re just a sad, angry old man who can’t handle the fact that he’s lost everythin’. Go ahead: keep pushing people away! Keep hidin’ behind that anger o’ yours! It’s got you this far, ain’t it?! I’ve treated kids with trauma worth double yours and they were nothin’ but kind and selfless. I won’t let you project your failures onto me. I’m done with this.”

“Yeah, why don’t you walk away!”

The argument reaches a fever pitch, tension sizzling in the air between you. You’re so close, glaring at each other with so much anger, so much resonating heat, that it feels like something’s going to break. And then, suddenly, it does.

Before either of you can think, you close the gap between you, lips crashing against his. It’s not gentle, it’s not soft— the kiss is rough, violent, a clash of lips and fury. His grip on your collar tightens, and for a moment, you’re both frozen, caught in the shock of what’s happening.

But then something more fiery in nature than anger ignites, and he kisses you back just as fiercely, and maybe a little more desperate— like he’s trying to pour out all of his pain and resentment, into this one moment. Your tongues slide against each other and his teeth catch against yours as he groans into your mouth. Your hands thread through his hair, yanking him closer as if trying to hold onto something real and tangible in the chaos of the kiss, reeling from the sudden spinning in your head. It’s angry, raw, filled with all the things you’re not capable of verbalising: grief, love, yearning, reconciliation.

The result of a painful reunion.

The world falls away and all that’s left is the taste of him, the feel of his lips against yours, rough and demanding. You hate him right now— hate him so much that you can’t help but want him. The sheer intensity of it all overwhelms you and makes your fingers shake against the nape of his neck, but you can’t pull away— not now, not when you’ve tasted the wine. You’re too far gone, caught up in the storm of his intoxication, fantasising about ripping that yellow and blue suit off of him and riding him until there’s nothing left for him to regenerate.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the bubble of the moment bursts with the sound of slow clapping coming from outside the car. You jerk back from Logan, breath coming in ragged gasps. Logan is equally as stunned, still tight-gripping your collar as if he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands.

You both see Wade sitting up, hands together, eyes wide as saucers as he takes in the scene.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did I just wake up in a telenovela?” His voice is laced with amusement. “I mean, I know you two clearly had some unresolved sexual tension— but this? Oh, this is gold. Please don’t stop on my account, just let me get the camcorder first!”

You’re too stun-locked to respond, lips parting and closing as your brain scrambles to formulate a response as you’re still reeling from what just happened. Logan (for once) seems equally as lost for words, his typical scowl replaced with a look of confusion.

“Shut up, Mouth,” Logan barks, but there’s no real heat behind it. There can’t be, really, not when you’ve both been caught red-handed. He releases your collar at once.

Wade, however, is having none of it. “Oh, no, no, no! You don’t just get to brush this off like it’s nothing! That was a full-on makeout session! I only interrupted because I thought you were about to rip each other’s clothes off.” He sighs wistfully and crosses his legs. “Here I was thinking that you two hated each other— but I guess all that anger was just foreplay, huh?”

Your face burns with a mixture of shame and something else you’re not quite ready to admit. “Wade— cut it out.”

He grins, not deterred in the least. “Oh, but I’m loving this. All that pent-up aggression finally coming to fruition. It’s beautiful, truly.”

Logan shoots him a look that could melt iron, but Wade just simply shrugs, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. Everyone being me.”

“Wade,” you warn through gritted teeth.

“Well, unless you want me to watch (which I am not opposed to, by the way) maybe next time the two of you should get a room,” he tilts his head. “Or, you know, a couples therapist.”

He then turns to address Logan directly.

“And I must’ve missed the AO3 tags because I did not peg you for the enemies-to-lovers type, Mister. Who knew all it took was a bit of hate-kissing to get the sparks flying? Don’t look so ashamed! I’m just jealous I didn’t get to you first.”

He stumbles towards the car and collapses into the back seat. “Next time you wanna bump uglies, just ask for some privacy! You can save me the broken neck!” He gets himself comfortable, man-spreading and laying his hands on both of your shoulders as you stare dead-forwards, unable to look at each other.

“Gosh, you’re both so tense.” He begins massaging. “Look— props to you both for not letting all that angst go to waste. This is a safe space, and there’s no shame in a little hormone-induced—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Logan interrupts, revving the car back to life and shoving his prodding hands away. “Just be quiet back there.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep the commentary to myself. But just so you know— got that bad boy playing on repeat, right here.” He says, tapping the side of his head.

You bury your face in your hands. This was going to be a long car ride.

As the car starts moving again, you muster the bravery to risk a glance at Logan. His expression is hard to read but his energy thrums with uncertainty. The boiling hatred seems to have dialled down to a gentle simmer, mostly redirected towards himself rather than you. There’s something else— something that wasn’t there before. You rip your eyes away quickly, mind racing.

For somebody so in tune with emotions and the literal ability to manipulate them if you so desired, you were horrendous at navigating your own. You don’t know what this kiss meant, or if it even meant anything at all.

If there’s anyone you didn’t expect to come across in the void, it’s X-23— Laura. She’s taller, now, with hair down her back, but she’s still got that stern, mean look on her face that intimidated you the first time you met her.

The weak front door squeaks when you open it a crack. A girl, maybe in her small teen years, blinks up at you.

“Can I help you?” You ask, wiping your flour-dusty hands down on the front of your cooking apron.

“Are you—” she says your name.

You attempt to swing the door shut, but she jams it with her boot. You flick your eyes up, glance around for any signs of threats, and then lower your gaze to her. You wrap your cardigan around your mid-section.

“I don’t go by that name anymore. Who the Hell are you, kid, and what do you want?”

“I’m here about Logan,” she says, matter-of-factly.

Logan. A name followed by your own, both of which you hadn’t heard in years.

“He’s not here, kid. He died years ago.”

“I know,” she answers, unwavering. “I was there when it happened. Your name was the last thing he said.”

You’d let her in for a glass of sugary sweet tea that day, but once stories were exchanged you told her not to come back. She respected your wishes— she said she simply wanted to put a name to the face, to get closure, but you’d felt her desperation. Perhaps she was seeking out respite, or family, but you were in no position to be sharing your space with someone who could put another target on your back.

After introductions were made with the others who had been ripped from their timelines (Elektra, Blade and oh my god a Gambit variant with muscles so huge he could pop your head between his biceps) you excused yourself to sit outside. The buzzing emotional energy made your collar feel a little tight around the neck, your head a little fuzzy with noise, so you decided to reignite the small campfire a few yards away from the safe-house and rest there, instead.

You hadn’t realised you were being followed.

“It’s not safe here.”

“It’s not safe anywhere, Logan.”

He looks defeated, raising and clasping his hands behind his head.

“I gotta leave, baby.”

“If you leave, I ain’t lettin’ you back,” you whisper. “You don’t heal the same anymore, Logan, and you promised me—”

“I know what I promised,” he rebuts, but not angrily. You can already see on his face that he’s made his choice. He’s not coming to you to discuss it. “But I owe it to him. To Charles. He gave me everything.”

“So then what did I give you?” You ask. “Not a home, not my love, not everything?” You slam the tea towel down and turn away from him as the tears form. He’s quiet, perhaps processing everything, but you’re too impatient.

“If you’re just gon’ get up and leave, do it now. I won’t beg you to stay, Jimmy.”

“I love you.”

You don’t say it back.

You wake up with a start, damp clinging to your forehead. You immediately sense another presence and glance over to see Logan watching you with a steady gaze. His expression is soft and almost reverent at first, but his facade hardens with a quick tick of his jaw.

“You talk in your sleep.” The bottle in his hand sloshes as he takes a drink. “Nightmare?”

You sigh frustratedly when you realise it’s him. Of course, it’s him — his energy reeks of whiskey and self-loathing. You prop yourself on your elbows, massaging the sore spots on your temples where sleep fog forms.

“I can’t even get some rest without you botherin’ me? You’re leakin’ self-hatred everywhere.”

“Quit hogging the fire then.”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, but it’s without bite.

A moment passes before he fills the silence again. “What are you even doing out here, alone? Trying to get yourself killed? Pretty stupid.”

“Do you know how hard it is to sleep when nobody shuts up?”

His brows knit. “They’re all dead asleep.”

His hand runs up and down your back.

“Can’t settle?” He asks after you sigh.

“No.” You turn so you’re lying on your back, shoulder touching his, staring up at the ceiling. “Everyone is feeling so loud. It’s like a frequency I can’t turn off.”

He hums. “They’re grieving, I s’pose.”

“Even you and you always said you hated the guy.” You shuffle to lie on your side, facing him. You place a hand on his bare chest. “I can feel it, you know.”

“I didn’t hate Scott. Just found him… obnoxiously irritating.”

“Tough guy.” You giggle and stroke his cheek. “You’re turnin’ soft, old man.”

He pulls you flush against him and presses a kiss to your hairline. You lay in verbal silence for a while, soaking up his presence (god, you were so in love), but you’re interrupted when he abruptly sits up and grabs the white vest he discarded somewhere near the bed.

You lean on your elbows. “Where you goin’?”

“Let’s go for a ride.”

“What?”

“You can’t sleep here. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“But Charles said—”

“Screw Charles. You comin’ or what?”

He hadn’t told you he loved you yet, but at that moment you felt it.

And so you do, clinging to his mid-section on his motorcycle, head stuffed into the helmet he affectionately forces you to wear. It’s a warm night in New York, soupy with heat, but the further you get away from the compound with him by your side the more you feel you can breathe.

“’Course, you don’t understand.”

You reach for the small pouch on your hip and retrieve a cigarette. You light it between your lips, taking a seat a few paces away from him, hands still shaking a little with the aftershocks of the night terror.

“Since when did you start smoking?”

You perk a brow. “I’ve always smoked.”

He seems to realise something and simply shakes his head before returning to the vice in his fist.

“Right.”

You stare at him for a long, passing moment, before pulling out your lighter again and offering it towards him. He perks a brow.

“I know you got a cigar in there somewhere,” you say. He pauses, sighs, and then retrieves a thick cigar from one of the pouches on his suit. You lean closer, flick the lighter, and cup your hand to protect it from the breeze, shamelessly glancing at the dancing glow that bathes his face amid the firelight. You feel the urge to kiss him again, and when his eyes flick up to yours, you think for the briefest second that he wants to kiss you, too.

Swallowing, you collapse your lighter and clear your throat. You sit quietly, smoking and drinking in a silence only negated by the distant sound of chittering bugs around you. Once you’re finished with your cigarette, you toss the butt into the fire.

“We’re infiltrating tomorrow morning.”

He laughs dryly. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Your lips tighten into a thin line. “We won’t make it without you.”

“Sure you will. I’m not him, you know,” Wolverine grumbles, slugging another shot of alcohol.

You scrutinise him from across the log. You wonder if he feels as pathetic as he looks.

“No— you got that right,” you answer. You pry the liquor from his hands but the grip he releases from the neck of the bottle must have been a mercy on his part because you knew he was extraordinarily stronger than you. “He was much braver than you.”

His eyes flicker from the flames to you as you take a long swig.

“Although probably just as stupid.”

A pause. Crackling and popping firewood fills the silence.

“But, he was a hero. And so are you.”

A beat before he spits a dry laugh, “what gave you that idea?”

You give him a once over and offer a half-smile. “That suit, for starters.”

He looks down at himself like he’d forgotten he was wearing it and wipes away a stray speck of blood from the bright material that you’re sure you might be responsible for.

“What, you like it?” He grunts.

You can’t help but smile. “Yellow suits you.”

“This is all I had left to remember you— them by,” he says, tone turning more sombre as he reminisces.

You decide it’s not the time to make another jab, so, instead, you play back and forth with the bottle for a while until the alcohol stops stinging your throat.

Something small shatters inside of you when you watch him muster the strength to look into your eyes, and his look a little glassy.

“Did you love him?”

Woof, that needed a healthy drink of courage to answer. When you hold his gaze, there’s a hollowness to his expression— an unasked question. Was there truly a version of him worth loving?

“Yeah.” You wipe the back of your hand across your mouth to cover the crack in your voice. “Yeah, I did.”

He’d insisted he hadn’t wanted you around yet he’d kissed you and now followed you to where you’d been sleeping. That had to count for something, so you extend your arm and gesture the bottle towards him— an olive branch in the form of shitty Jack Daniels. Your fingers touch when he accepts it and the brief glimmer of eye contact you share sends shivery energy zipping between you.

“I loved him,” you repeat, as if convincing yourself. A repeated balm to soothe the pain of letting him leave.

“He’s an idiot for leaving you.”

You bite back a sob-laugh, imagination caught somewhere between wondering who you’d rather beat up more: him, or yourself.

“Maybe I’m an idiot for not followin’ him.” You sniff deeply to push back the incoming sob-induced mess. “Not that he woulda let me.”

He hums resignedly.

Clearing your throat, you tuck your hands between your thighs. Swiftly moving on. “What was I— she like?”

He takes a long drink and sighs thickly when he comes up for air. He looks down at his hands when he talks as if choosing his words thoughtfully and carefully.

“Strong, smart. Stubborn. Far too fuckin’ stubborn.”

You force a smile over the flinch of pain in your chest. “Guess we got that in common.”

You reach up and twist the dog tag around your neck, feeling for the ring you’d slipped around the chain. You were never married legally but were in all the ways that mattered. Your heart aches for the brief moment of domesticity you shared with him. You expect him to be finished, but he once laughs, a smile cracking on his face.

“She loved kids— had a soft spot for the weird ones.” He squints and rubs at the flesh between his knuckles where the blades typically protrude. “Put me in my place. Stood up for what was right.”

His words strike a chord in your heart, playing the familiar tune of yearning and guilt and grief. A swelling sensation rises from your stomach and you’re not sure if you’re going to scream, cry or throw up.

“Were you—?”

“In love with her? What, like you can’t tell?” He interrupts, face hardening. Another drink. “It doesn’t matter. We argued one night and I refused to follow her back to the school, ‘bout the same time the humans went mutant hunting.”

Logan takes a moment to catch himself.

“When I came back, shit-faced from the bar, I realised I’d gotten my version of you murdered, along with the rest of them. Laid up like a fucking log pile. That’s what loving me got you.”

The gruesome imagery sours the liquor in your stomach. You push the nausea down with a hard swallow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wh—” He jolts back, face pinched. “I got you killed, and you’re fuckin’ sorry?”

“There’s a world where you didn’t make that choice. You know, I’m not proud of who I am, either,” you answer, softly. “After you left and I lost you… I got bitter, stopped pulling my punches.”

“You never liked hurting people.”

“I didn’t.” You take a deep breath, willing away the warmth that pools behind your eyes. You quickly regain composure with a short cough. “Whatever woman you’re comparing me to, I stopped being her a long time ago. Like you told me— I’m no hero.”

He grunts, looking like he regrets saying that now. Checkmate. You’re not what either of you expected or yearned for in one another, but maybe you’re exactly what you both need.

“You know, your accents thicker.”

He says it as if to draw a line of separation, but you take it as an invitation. Your head swims from the alcohol, and against what probably is your better judgement, you inch closer to him until your knees bump against each other.

“That’s what I get for hidin’ in the mountains. Got adopted by a scary old lady and her church friends. I reckon she rubbed off on me. You’d like her, I think,” you tell him fondly. There’s something wistful about it, imagining a life with him. You grieve a life you never had but somehow, in his company, the melancholy loosens its grip.

“Maybe we got lucky,” you add flatly.

He lifts the bottle with a dry laugh. “You have a very funny idea of what lucky means, bub.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure. Y’see, they didn’t get lucky. They died, ‘n’ we lost each other,” you explain, glancing up at the stars as if either version of you would ever be in heaven, as if it was as loving enough as a mother’s womb to stretch wide enough to allow space for mutants.

God probably hated you just as much as they did down here.

You lower your head onto his shoulder. “But, we’re still here. Maybe there was always space in my universe for you.”

“You’re drunk,” he observes flatly, but he doesn’t move.

“A little.” You get more comfortable against his tense bicep and close your eyes. “Humour me, why don’t you?”

He sighs, but it’s gentle. “Just for a while.”

“Good, because you’re not very good at keeping your feelings quiet. I know you like this.”

“Keep that to yourself.”

You sigh, eyes remaining closed. “We ain’t gonna talk about it, are we?” You ask, in reference to the kiss.

“Nope.”

A high-pitched whine resonates in your ears, vision blurring as if lying underneath a rippling river current. Paradox has just explained the stakes to you — to stop Cassandra, somebody would have to lay down on the wire and make the sacrifice play. This wasn’t a matter of regeneration anymore— it was being ripped apart from the seams, atomised.

It just so happens that your cat, Kevin, has been loving his little journey around the TVA. Cheater.

“You won’t survive it,” is what you say in response to Logan offering himself up for the job. What you really meant was: I don’t think I can survive losing you again.

“I know,” Logan answers. His eyes drip to where you palm at the slow-healing wound on your side, courtesy of the Lady Deadpool variant. You’re winded, running on fumes, and know you’re in no position to start throwing yourself out there as a suicide volunteer. You’d never make the journey, let alone succeed in your venture.

“That’s why it’s gotta be me,” Deadpool interrupts, peeling the mask from his face to address you both. “Neither of you asked for any of this. You were right. I lied. I lied right to both of your faces — just to get you to help me, and you did.”

“You didn’t lie,” Logan replies, throwing you a glance. “You made an educated wish.”

He reaches into his pocket and slaps the bloodied Polaroid of Deadpool’s friends against Wade’s chest. The gesture is a final, silent acknowledgement of why any of you are here in the first place, and everything that’s led to this moment.

“I got nothin’ back in my world,” he explains, the sharp arrow of his words striking a sting straight through your heart. “Let me do this. For you.”

You could see that this meant more to him, that he would only deem himself worthy and die a peaceful death if he could do it knowing he saved at least one variant of you. This is more than just a mission. This is his only chance to redeem himself, and you know you’re in no position to start trying to convince him that you’d have him either way. Fuck redemption.

You’re parallel from one another, standing just outside of touching distance. It was a cruel existence— reaching out and never quite being able to hold on. It’s inevitable, the pull you feel. You’re dictated by his gravity but cursed by the narrative.

Your chest rises and falls with shallow, laboured breaths as you attempt to process what’s happening, what he’s asking you to let him do. The pain in your side ebbs only from the comparative pain of watching another version of the man you love sacrifice himself for you.

His voice is a quiet whisper. “Give me this.”

But I love you. The words are there, hiding behind your clenched teeth, gnawing at the bars like a feral animal caged in the reminder that this isn’t — shouldn’t be — the man that you love.

Something shifts and as you’re running on the delirium of your battery running low, healing resources drained, you decide that you don’t actually care to make the distinction any more.

You’re in no condition to fight; you barely had the energy to argue with him, let alone stop him. But you can’t just let him go.

One wobbly step forward. You poke his chest, mustering whatever energy remains to express your feelings in the only true way you know how. “I…” you stammer, but you suddenly can’t find the words.

His hand reaches up and he splays yours flat against his chest. Faintly, buried deep behind the armoured layer of his suit, you feel the distinct thunk, thunk of his heart. He exhales deeply when your empathetic energy transmission reaches the other side. Your eyes connect, and even through the sharp whites of his mask, you can feel the psionic pulse resonating between you two— strong enough that the wound on your side begins to sew itself together.

“I know,” he whispers.

And you believe that he does.

He nods shortly, releases your hand, and turns on his heel. You collapse against the control centre, eyes needling through the camera footage, desperate to watch the final moments and know that his sacrifice was worth it.

It’s about the same time that Deadpool yanks his mask back on and barrels down the hallway after him.

“Wade!”

You glance back at the party as you creep towards the apartment door to leave. Your consciousness has only recently slipped back into place, having hovered somewhere above your body for the entire time you witnessed your friends atomically ripped apart, only for them to return mere moments later.

You think it might’ve been witnessing Wolverine sweaty and shirtless that was finally the last straw for you. You’re not sure you’ve recovered since.

You thought you were being sneaky about your departure, but a flat hand reaches from out of view, splays and then holds the door closed.

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Logan asks, voice slow and tentative.

“I ain’t runnin’ this time, I promise,” you answer. He rests his arm on the beam above him, making him appear even taller and maybe even more imposing. Your pulse quickens as you look up at him, trying to find the right words, ones that you hope won’t give you away. You nearly squeak. “I um— just—”

He arches a brow, a hint of a micro-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He shifts, getting closer by just a fraction. “Yeah?”

Trying to keep your distance is proving to be immensely hard when he’s gotten himself this deliciously close. His energy tastes of confidence, a stark contrast to the self-loathing only a mere few days prior. It’s magnetic. If you make eye contact now, you’re not sure you’ll be able to control yourself.

The atmosphere crackles with tension, like the static energy right before lightning strikes. His gaze is intense when you look at him, and with the way his eyes glance purposefully down at your parted lips—

Jesus. Pull yourself together.

You gently pull away from him and feel the spell of the moment dissolve. “I just… need time.”

Recognition flashes on his face, as well as a tick of disappointment, but he seems to understand.

A beat, then he taps the door before stepping aside. “Alright. Don’t be a stranger.”

Wade bursts around the corner, arms wide and voice booming. Vanessa hangs off of his arm, white teeth gleaming with mischievous joy.

“Whoa, hey there, lovebirds! What’s going on here— a secret rendezvous? Looking for somewhere to sneak off? Should I cue the romantic music or just give you two some privacy?”

You jump in surprise at his sudden entrance, flinching away from Logan as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Logan’s expression shifts from whatever tender moment was brewing, spell broken, to a mix of exasperation and resignation, jaw tightening.

“Wade,” he grumbles, voice sharp, but you can acknowledge there’s a level of begrudging affection beneath the steely surface. “Timing, as usual, is impeccable.”

“Um, actually, I was just leavin’,” you answer, tugging on your bag.

“WHAT!” Wade exclaims, face dropping. “We haven’t even gotten to our favourite part yet!”

You tick a brow. “Our favourite part?”

“The cocaine part,” he says, matter-of-factually.

“Wade, that was one time,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry. Thank you for inviting me. I just can’t miss my flight.”

Dogpool jumps at your ankles, whimpering and chewing on the hem of your jeans. You give her a gentle scratch on her head, deftly avoiding the lick of her impressive tongue. Wade scoops her up, holding her against his shoulder and kissing her affectionately on her wet nose.

“You, ah, need a ride?” Logan offers.

Your heart stutters at his chivalrous attempt. “Oh, um. That’s okay— I called a cab. So.”

That was a lie. You hadn’t— not yet. You just weren’t sure if you were going to make the right decisions if you were alone in his company for an hour. Probably wouldn’t make it to the airport without fighting or crying or making stupid choices.

He rubs his jaw. “Right.”

“I’ll… see you around?”

“I better!” Wade yells, using two fingers to gesture that he’s keeping his eye on you as Vanessa yanks him around the corner gleefully.

A magnetic tether — or red string, whatever you want to call it — seems to strain when you walk away from Logan. You feel the pull in your chest, a fluttering of electricity, but you swallow the urges and ignore the way they scratch like glass on the way down.

You call an Uber, squeezing your bag tightly for a source of comfort as you crowd yourself into the back seat. You spare one last glance at the apartment and think for a brief moment you see a silhouette of someone watching you from the balcony, but they slip away into the light before you can discern it.

You know, though. Of course, you know.

You expected relief when you arrived home, but, instead, the aching, gnawing black hole in your chest seems to grow exponentially. You go through the motions— feed your cat, tend to the garden, eat the food with no appetite, go to Church.

The fixture of Jesus pinned to the cross gives you pause for the first time. You wonder if he was a mutant.

You weren’t sure how much of this “time” thing you were going to need to heal or make a decision on where you and Logan stood after everything, but only after your second night, sleepless and alone, do you start to doubt that this will be an easy process. You communicate like you know what you’re doing, but you haven’t stopped shaking since he kissed you, like a newborn foal traversing ice.

You want to do things right. You’re not trying to replace any missing pieces or live up to any expectations he might have of you. The girl he knew seemed to be a softer, sweeter (less traumatised) version of you, and you worry that you’d be constantly comparing him to a ghost of himself.

The rain lulls you as it patters on the window by your bed, but sleep doesn’t take you.

You hear thunder, you think, and wonder if the chickens are frightened in their coops. However, the distant grumble continues to grow, reverberating through the floorboards of your rickety cabin. As it creeps closer you discern that it’s not a brewing storm— but the growling engine of a motorcycle.

Awash with a deep sense of knowing, you throw yourself out of bed and knot a silk robe around your middle. The sound of the engine dissipates, replaced only by the hammering rain and the rushing pulse in your ears when you tear your door open.

You see him— all leather jacket slick with rainwater and tight jeans, brows pinched against the onslaught of the weather as he dismounts his bike.

Logan.

When your eyes meet, there’s a palpable shift in the air, and the storm, angry as a howling spirit, mirrors the turbulent emotions within you. You don’t speak, you don’t think, you just act.

Barefoot, dressed in your slip of a robe, you race down the short path and meet him halfway.

“Logan? Logan?” You call out. “What are you doin’ here?!”

“Had to see you,” he calls out between strides, voice nonchalant as if what he’s said was obvious.

You’re closing the distance. “That’s a day’s ride, and the weather—”

Instead of letting you finish, he grasps your face, kissing you suddenly and with a reverence so sincere that your knees feel gelatinous and weak. His thumbs brush away the raindrops— tears? —that drip over your crystallised lashes. His touch is both grounding and electrifying; the warmth of him pressed against you is a stark contrast to the chilling downpour.

Your fingers curl against the front of his jacket, clinging with equal fervour as if it’s the only thing keeping you anchored from floating someplace else. The strength of his body crowds over you, arm sliding down to capture you by your waist as you lean into him, syrupy-decadent and entirely reliant on him to keep you upright.

The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding over yours tasting both bittersweet and intoxicating in equal measures, like cigar smoke and peppermint gum. There’s a distinct sharpness of liqour and you wonder if he had a shot (or bottle) of courage before coming here. You breathe deeply against his skin, smelling rainwater, musk and gunpowder; your senses are completely overwhelmed by him and you’re not sure that anything could pull you away.

The red string knots.

When you both eventually take pause, gasping for air as the rain continues to pelt, his eyes lock with yours. He radiates relief, desire, and a raw vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

“You’re freezin’,” he murmurs, peppering kisses against your lips, your cold nose, and pulling one of your hands to his face to peck along your palm. You feel dizzy in his embrace, drunk on his lips.

“You should come inside,” you whisper, “before the neighbours start askin’ questions.”

He quietly nods, kissing your fingers before following you inside and ducking away from the rain.

Once inside, he shakes the rain from his hair with a flick, eyes immediately roaming around the innards of your respectable (tiny) house, the size of him immediately proportionally shrinking the interior. He absorbs your surroundings, chivalrously pretending like he can’t see every curve of you in that wet material.

You lead him towards the heath, lighting a small fire to help dry you both off. You leave, pottering around to gather some towels for your hair, and arrive back to see he’s peeled off the top layer of his clothes, leaving him half-exposed, his back an impressive marvel of rippling muscle. He glances at you over his shoulder.

You’re lost for words, but can’t just stand there ogling him. “Um, I don’t think I have any spare clothes that’ll… fit…”

When he turns to face you, his rain-slick torso shines in the firelight, skin glistening on the taught muscles of his biceps as he accepts a towel from you. Your words lag, entirely distracted by the realisation of one thing when you glance down at his v-line and dark, coiling hair that creeps down into his jeans: you’re absolutely going to have sex with this man.

You might’ve decided that when you watched the way his jeans clung to him when he dismounted his motorcycle, but that’s beside the point.

“That’s alright,” he answers, towel slung over his shoulder, eyes roving shamelessly over the damp, silky robe that clings to your silhouette effortlessly. “Don’t need ‘em.”

Your mouth dries when he steps closer to you, head angled, lips centimetres apart.

“Logan…” you breathe, tone edging toward a warning.

He presses against you, tilting you back. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. I’ll get back on that bike and I’ll leave.”

You creep further away, trying to catch your breath. “I—”

The words don’t manifest, simply because you don’t have it in you to lie— to deny yourself of this.

He cages you in against the wall, shrinking you underneath his frame, eyes narrowed and dark as they search for yours through lowered lashes. “Tell me you don’t feel somethin’, and I’ll walk away. You won’t see me again.”

His bare-chested proximity was overwhelming you. You’re acutely aware of every inch of his skin that touches yours, pebbled nipples hard against his warm flesh, stubbled jaw nuzzling against your neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel like a teenager again, anxious and hormonal, a ball of puppy fat and unrequited crushes. The space between your thighs positively aches with heat, throbbing like a second heartbeat.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that I feel something.”

He leans back, lips quirked with a flash of disappointment.

You blink up at him. “Let me show you instead.”

He ticks an eyebrow.

You use your empathetic influence to decrease his heartbeat, relaxing him down to the bone. He sighs, nosing against your shoulder, arms flexing as he holds himself up against you.

“Just with a little influence…” you stroke your way up from the slow pulse in his neck to his jaw, capturing him swiftly. You use your mutation to increase his heart rate this time, hiking it up to an excitable level. His cheeks begin to flush, pupils dilated, lips parted with the anticipation of your kiss. His eyes darken with something intrinsically primal and hungry.

“Does it excite you?” You ask, innocently.

He shakes his head all dog-like as if to regain control, canine showing as his lips curl into a wolfish grin.

“You’re not the only one with… tricks. I can do that, too— in other ways,” he says, tone low and suggestive. He lifts a hand, tracing a knuckle over your exposed collarbone, shifting the soft material of your robe just an inch. Your breath hitches.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat, right?”

You blush. You hadn’t known that.

You challenge his eye contact, feigning self-control and authority. The stare-down has your pulse spiking, arousal ricocheting down your spine and sitting low and syrupy in your belly.

“Your heart’s beating pretty fast, too.”

Oh, Hell. He’s got you melted like butter in a pan.

You rest your head against the wall, breath quickening. “If we do this, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Good,” he growls. “I don’t like to stop.”

The teasing back-and-forth game of teetering towards nearly touching finally gets the better of you. You’re weak, as malleable as soft dough, so you invite him against your mouth with a sigh-wine and a tug on the nape of his neck.

He positively devours you, a hand palming at your breast as you kiss desperately and feverishly. The shoulder of your robe slips and you’re half-exposed, the slip barely holding itself together by the loose knot on your waist. He pulls you impossibly closer, the skin of his chest flush against yours as he reaches and digs fingers into the globe of your ass, hips twitching together.

You fumble between your bodies, yanking on his belt buckle and zipper impatiently. He pulls backwards, a wet string of spit snapping between your lips as you separate, helping you with steadier fingers to remove his jeans. With equal passion, he swiftly tugs on the waist-tie of your robe and discards it somewhere on the floor.

When you’re both bare, nude silhouettes sharp and soft in the firelight, he stumbles you over to the plush rug in the centre of the room. He nods to the couch.

“Legs up.”

You obey without hesitation, taking your seat and spreading decadently for him. He kneels below you of you, hips between your ankles, and gazes at you like a hungry, stalking animal. You feel impossibly sexy and dangerous.

He peppers kisses along the bone of your ankle first, foot hiked up onto his shoulder, only breaking eye contact to flutter his eyes closed. He moves along the inner length of your leg, pausing keenly against the sensitive parts— the thin stretch behind your knee, the soft plush of your thigh. He lowers himself, scruff tickling between your legs, and then licks a molten stroke between your folds, parting you with his tongue and burying his face deeper.

You clench around his skull, mindfulness of your heightened mutant abilities long forgotten. You can’t crush metal between your thighs. Or can you?

He groans into you, varying suckling and kissing you on your clit with long strokes on the blade of his tongue to your hole, lapping up the nectar of your arousal, fingers digging bruisingly into your hips. The sting of his grip and the relentless lave of his tongue entice moans from you, fingers raking into his hair for some semblance of reality grounding in your pleasure-lapsed consciousness.

Jesus. With as filthy as his mouth was, you should’ve known he would be this good at eating pussy.

You come quick, orgasm pulsing on his lips. The burn of overstimulation seizes your muscles, writhing against his onslaught, but he shoves your hips down.

“Not done with you yet,” he murmurs possessively, leaning back to wipe his chin. “On all fours.”

You bite your lower lip, suppressing the humiliation of the intimacy (vulgarity) of it. You turn, belly still clenching with the aftershocks, arching with the anticipation, whining moments later when his mouth reconnects with you. His hands palm at your ass, spreading you wider, tongue slipping dangerously close to the tight ring of muscle.

He slides a finger knuckle-deep, miming fucking you in a rhythmic pulse. His other hand massages you, thumb sliding down until you jerk sensitively against his nudging intrusion.

You feel impossibly full and tingly, clenching around the burn of his thumb and the velvet of his finger, second orgasm surging and bubbling over with your face pressed against the couch cushion, lips agape. You’re slick, drip-dropping onto his cupping palm, every nerve in your body burning raw as his wrist works you through the pulses.

You turn over, relishing in the sight of his scruff glistening with the aftermath of your orgasm, his eyes dark with lust— a hellish man, seraphic on his knees for you. Your insides clench at the sight as he quite literally shatters and redefines what worship means to you.

“Tired already?” He hums, massaging your hips.

You perk a challenging brow. “That was just the warm-up, old man.”

“Alright,” he seethes, sucking on his lower lip as he lifts himself up to your level. “Show me what you got then, baby.”

When you kiss, his mouth slides against yours, drenched with the taste of yourself. His cock steels against your belly when you pull him close, tip pearl-smooth with precum when you reach down and grasp him with a hollowed fist. The feel of him, heavy and warm in your grip, fans to life the flames of your briefly quenched arousal, and you hungrily pull him down onto the couch beside you.

Moisture pools on your tongue as you rub him. You spit on your hand before stroking him from the base to tip, lathering him silky with your drool. You tuck your hair behind your ears, narrowing your cheeks as you slide your mouth up and down his length, fisting the inches that remain.

“Christ.” He twitches in your mouth as you gently massage the warm weight of his sac, lewd sounds emanating from where your lips and tongue meet him. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl,” he snarls, gripping your hair in a fist at the crown of your head. Your engine purrs with his encouragement, revving with newfound enthusiasm.

You always gave as good as you got, after all, and you’re certainly not one to back away from a challenge.

His head lolls onto the back of the couch, thighs tense beneath you, cock hot and hard on your tongue. He growls when he comes, pulsing strongly in your mouth as you lap up the produce of his orgasm, salty and molten down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Put those regenerative powers to good use, why don’t you?” You ask, working him through the over-sensitivity with your wrist. His eyes don’t once leave yours, even as they glaze over and flinch from the pleasure burn. There’s a sharp look of challenging determination on his face— a grit of his teeth, the furrow in his brow. He remains hard in your hands and you perk an impressed brow. Not bad for an old man.

There’s a sweet moment of vulnerability when you crawl over him, a brief sobering in the cloud of lust, a clarity of two not-quite strangers and their shared grief and yearning.

You’re not sure where this moment will take you, but the love of somebody scraping together the shards of a shattered heart for a brief time, even as it cuts their hands, holds you with a semblance of human connection so sincere that you’ll carry it with you for a lifetime.

His thighs spread to accommodate you. You hold your fingers against the thick chords in his neck for support as you fumble between your bodies, slotting him against the catch in your cunt before lowering yourself entirely.

You hiss against the intrusion and he steadies you with a hand on your hip.

“Easy. Don’t hurt yourself.”

You laugh-moan, laying your palms against the coils of hair on his sweat-shimmering chest.

“I can take it.”

The fire, intended to help dry you off, creates a heated environment that beads sweat on his temple. The only brain cells that remain coherent bounce around on lust in your skull — so you lean forward, lick the salty droplet clean, and sigh-whine as you begin rocking against him.

You fall into sync quickly, a desperate rhythm of desperate bodies. The delicious ache of him inside you is a masochistic thrill, similar to the irresistible press on a day-old bruise. The squelching shlick between your bodies is an animalistic reminder of your flesh and blood as you chase the pleasure, bouncing with vigour.

“Christ— I can feel you…” his jaw clenches with resolve, fingers digging into the meat of your ass. “…dripping all over me. You wanted this bad, huh?”

“Wanted to ride you in that fuckin’ Honda,” you straighten your posture, leaning away from him to hold your breasts, panting words between bated breaths. “Thought it might shut you up.”

His hand snaps up and grabs you roughly by the chin. “Mm… mouthy, aren’t ya?”

You grin. “You got no idea, lumberjack.”

He pulls your face against him, meeting your mouth halfway in a sloppier, fever-driven kiss that shoots arousal to your core like a shot of his favourite whiskey. Something feral stirs within you: a primal, cellular-deep need to connect with him further. Your empathetic power roils off of you like steam on a hot spring, surging into and merging with him until there’s nothing but one feeling, a black hole of unquenchable desire.

You suddenly feel as though you are him: navel-deep, a throbbing muscle with an aching desire to dive further into the serpent-clutch of your cunt, gliding through tingly, honey-silk velvet, blades hanging onto a tether of self-control as they threaten to slide out of your knuckles in ecstasy.

Well. This was certainly new. Add “voodoo sex doll” to your list of mutations.

You gasp, ripping away from the kiss, your powers recoiling back into you at whip-lash speed, dizzying in its ferocity. His eyes meet yours with darkened curiosity.

“Did you—”

“I felt that,” he grunts, tongue darting out to roll over his lips. “It always like that for you? Feelin’ so fuckin’ full?”

You half-laugh blissfully. “Only the good times.”

“I’ll show you a good time, alright.”

He isn’t gentle when he manhandles you, forcing you into an arch as he repositions and aligns himself behind your thighs, one foot planted firmly on the floor, the other bent to accommodate the new angle. He reinserts himself inside of you with ease, hands palming your hips and ass.

You feel him nudging cervix-deep and you reach out, clawing at the couch to hold your jerking body steady against the relentless slap of his hips. There’s no need to tell him faster or harder when you feel the metal plate of his adamantium hips pressing against your ass, pounding and vulgar with the sound of sweat-damp skin-on-skin.

It’s involuntary, the way you pant and cry out, intoxicated by the relentless drag and pull of his cock. He says something to you but you either don’t hear him or have enough conscious space in your sex-drunk fog to process words and respond. He slides a hand down your spine and pulls on your hair until you’re upright, breath hot when it fans against your neck.

“Where’s that mouth gone?”

You lick the drool from your lip, throwing him a glance over your shoulder. “Fuck you.”

The half-lidded up-and-down look he gives you as satisfaction grows slowly on his lips turns your bones to jelly. “There she is,” he growls back, offering a sharp slap of encouragement on your ass as he drops you back onto your front. You involuntarily grip around him, puffy clit throbbing with the almost-but-not-quite-there anticipatory build. “You gonna come for me? Yeah? I can fuckin’ feel it.”

You slide a hand underneath yourself, reaching for the swollen nub with two fingers. You’re overwhelmed with kinetic energy akin to a fizzy champagne bottle— two more shakes until you’re ready to pop.

You hear a Snikt! behind you, accompanied by a throat-caught groan, and then the distinct ripping shred of blades impaling your couch. You finally come, hard, when you feel him throbbing inside of you, followed by the decadent syrupy flood of his orgasm filling you up. He ruts into you one, two three more final times, milking himself dry, before collapsing over your body in a sweaty heap, sparing you the weight of his metal bones with a forearm propped next to you.

Shared fluids drip to the couch when he eventually pulls out of you, blades retreating into his clenched fists. The fluffy innards of the chair spill out beside you, and, while you were in no financial position to afford another, the sight entices a humoured smile from you.

“Sorry,” he says with a wince, helping you sit up when your unreliable legs shake beneath you.

“That’s alright. It’ll make for an interestin’ story,” you retort, fanning yourself with a hand. You both let out a shared laugh, mostly from the relieved delirium of it all. After a beat, you lean into him, massaging a hand across his belly. “So. We really doin’ this?”

His face softens. “If you’ll have me.”

You cup his face and kiss his cheek. “I’d take any version of you I could get.”

divider credits: @/vysleix and @/cafekitsune tag list: @bearwithegg, @uhlunaro, @sseleniaa, @jxssimae, @autumnsymphony

[crushmeeren]

ᝰ FIRST TIME FUCKING YOU WITHOUT A CONDOM .ᐟ

⋆ ft. itachi, neji, kakashi, sasuke ⋆

master list link

༝ ᭝ ༝ itachi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Itachi is not someone who’d be reckless with this decision.

Sure, his cheeks would turn scarlet when you ask. His head would whip to the side so fast his neck would be in danger of snapping, drawing one leg up as his entire body shifts towards you on the couch. He would slip two fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tug, desperate for a cool breeze to tame the suffocating heat now creeping down his throat, flushing his chest.

His gaze would flicker across your face, hand resting on your thigh, squeezing once. He’d ask, “You — are you sure? You don’t want me to wear a condom anymore?” His voice would crack on the word condom and his blush would darken. Itachi would take a second to clear his throat, glaring at you without any real heat when you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sure, Itachi.” You’d readjust your position, mirroring his, and look up at him through your lashes. “I just, I need to feel you. All of you,” you’d admit, playing with his fingers before lacing them together. The sweet heat building in your belly would remind you of the way it feels to drink a cup of hot chocolate.

Itachi’s lips would part, and you’d be certain you caught his dick jerking in his sweats. He’d make you wait until you’re on some other form of birth control. No surprise babies in this house.

Itachi would hold his breath when he pushed his latex free cock into you for the first time. His eyes would squeeze shut, a shaky exhale of your name spilling from his lips as he bottomed out and fucking came. You’d be able to feel the harsh twitching of his dick as he made you look nothing short of a cream filled donut. He’d be so embarrassed, ready to apologize, but he’d stop short at the fucked out look on your face.

The added slick sensation would turn you on like no other, cheeks hot to the touch as you begged him to keep going. He’d stay as hard as a rock, rolling you both until you’re perched in his lap. He’d draw his knees up, tangle his fingers with yours, and encourage you to “Ride me, sweetheart. C’mon, take what you need. I’ll let you use me until your pretty little pussy is sore.”

Itachi doesn’t have to tell you twice.

༝ ᭝ ༝ neji ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Neji loves having sex with you, but he’d be a bit paranoid.

Neji’s uptight. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell he gets drunk on your pussy, but he does. He’d be a whiny, breathy mess any time his cock’s inside you.

However, he’d also be hyper aware of the fact that he could get you pregnant if he’s not careful. He wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of having a baby with you, but he wouldn’t be ready for quite some time. He’d wear a condom, no matter how bad he wants your pussy to squeeze him with no barrier separating you. You’d have multiple conversations about it, convincing him to try just putting the tip in.

He’d be….hooked, to say the least. It’d be by sheer force of will that he doesn’t shove his entire cock in your pussy that first time. But, it’d also be the very next time Neji swears he’s only putting the tip in when things get out of hand.

The warm ache in Neji’s belly would overshadow his concerns. He’d end up knocking your thighs further apart with his knees, bending forward and planting his elbows on either side of your head, only a few centimeters left between you. He’d whine, “God baby I can’t take it any more, I want to feel your pussy so bad. Please, can I?”

“Fuck, just put it in Neji. As long as you pull out it’ll be fine, I promise.” You’d lift your hips to take in more of him before he could change his mind and Neji would oblige. Your pussy would hug his cock even better than in his dreams, and Neji’s low, broken moan would light your blood on fire.

Neji would straighten up and sit on his knees, gripping one of your ankles and hauling your leg over his shoulder, letting your other leg hang loosely at his hip. He’d bend you in half to deepen the angle, hands resting by your shoulders. Just to tease you both, he’d pull out halfway and push back in at an agonizing pace.

Neji would fuck you within an inch of your life, long hair cutting you off from everything else. Your nails would scratch angry pink lines down his chest, his cock starting to throb as he toes the line of his release. You’d smack his chest, reminding him with a desperate edge to your voice, “Don’t cum inside me! Neji, Neji — pull out!”

He’d slip his cock free at the last second, letting your body flop to the bed as he stroked his cock. It’d only take three quick pumps before he’d be cumming all over your belly.

Safe to say, this would be Neji’s new favorite way to have sex.

༝ ᭝ ༝ sasuke ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Unlike his brother, Sasuke is impulsive.

He couldn’t deny that the thought would cross his mind every now and then, playing with the idea of fucking you raw and seeing his sticky, white cum cover his cock and spill from your pussy.

Usually when he got the urge he’d just jerk himself off. He’d let his cool fingers wrap around his over heated cock, shivers running down his spine as he stroked himself slowly, and he’d be cumming in a heartbeat.

It would dull the ache of his desire for a while. Hell, he definitely wouldn’t want to have a baby any time in the near future. But soon enough, it’d start to eat at him again. His stomach would clench tight every time you’d have sex, nasty dreams forcing him to wake up hard. That’s why, when you beg him to take the condom off, it would take zero effort to convince him.

Your face would be buried in your pillow, ass in the air, and one hand would fist your sheets. The other would twist behind you and smack against Sasuke’s lean lower belly, pushing at him to stop. He’d be too focused, hands pressing your lower back into a harsh arch, sweat trailing down his temple, over his jaw, dripping onto your back.

“Sasuke,” you’d moan, asking for his attention. “Wait, Sasuke — ah fuck!” You’d dig your nails into his belly until he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. “Take the condom off, please!”

His hips would still, pressed flush to your ass. “What?” He’d ask, but he’d already be pulling out. “You want me to fuck you raw?” He’d tease. “Such a spoiled little princess.”

You’d roll onto your back, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. “Just fucking take it off,” you’d demand, reaching to grasp the slippery latex and slide it free from his cock. Sasuke’s mouth would curl into a smirk, gaze glued to the way his dick bobs when the condom pops off.

Sasuke’s jaw would go slack when you stroke his cock, the skin softened and slick from the lube inside the condom. He’d fucking whimper, a noise he’d never made before, when he slides home. Sasuke’s thoughts wouldn’t be coherent after that. He’d put your knees to your ears and snap his hips until he’s cum at least twice and you’re squirting all over his pelvis.

He would panic the next day, only going dizzy with relief when you inform him you started getting birth control shots.

༝ ᭝ ༝ kakashi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Kakashi would be asking you if he could hit it raw.

For your entire relationship, Kakashi would have it known that he’s got a fantasy about giving you a “cream pie”, for lack of a better word. He’d never push you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, no, he’d be more than happy to even be able to role play the act.

There’s no denying that Kakashi would actually want to get you pregnant. He’d love to see your belly round with his baby, but he’d be patient and wait for you to give him the go ahead. However, Kakashi has a loud mouth, and he’d voice his desires at least every other time you have sex.

In the end, the idea would get in your head and become more than appealing to you. When you gave in, it’d be when Kakashi least expected it. It’d be a night when his back is propped up by a couple pillows near your headboard, calloused hands gripping your ass and guiding the slow roll of your hips. Kakashi would be drooling about how well you ride his cock.

Your hands would brace themselves on his pecs, nails digging into his skin, and Kakashi wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. No surprise there. “Babygirl,” he’d moan, eyes rolling towards the ceiling when you clench tight around him. “You look so pretty when you ride me, m’gonna cum so hard. You’re gonna let me knock you up, yeah? Wanna see you swollen with my baby so bad.”

You’d slap your hand over his mouth to stop the stream of filthy words, cheeks blistering. “Kakashi,” you’d say through your teeth, voice pitching higher. “Take off the condom.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows would shoot to his hairline, jaw dropping open as the words he’d been waiting forever to hear sunk in. There’s no way in hell you’d have to repeat yourself. He’d shove you off his lap and onto your back, settling between your spread thighs as he all but ripped off the condom. He’d stroke his cock a couple times before readjusting his weight, taking his time to slide his bare cock back inside you.

Kakashi would whine in back of his throat, pushing your thighs apart until your muscles started to protest. “Kakashi!” You’d gasp, pushing up to your elbows and fisting the sheets as he railed the shit out of you.

“Sorry, can’t — fuck, can’t help myself,” he’d pant, not sounding sorry at all. You’d catch a glimpse of Kakashi’s sharingan whirling and then he’d be cumming before you even realized he’s close.

He wouldn’t stop with one round. He’d wring pleasure out of you until your legs turned to jelly. He’d cum again after that, making such a mess that you’d both end up in the shower.

[kurooh]

I’MA MAKE U SCREAM ★ S. GOJO & S. GETO

⊹₊˚. a series of unrelenting, mysterious phone calls late at night leads to you being sandwiched between two hot ghostface slashers who’ve got you fucking for your life.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, ghostface! gojo & geto, threesome, knife play, landline phones, mentions of death, oral (f receiving), double penetration, anal/fingering, tongue piercings, pussy slapping, biting. 5.2K words whew (pls read anyway 🧎‍♀️)

xoxo, juno. happy halloween!! thank you to my dearest wolfy anon for beta reading <33 comment & rb if you enjoyed!!! 🎃

“hello?”

“why don’t you wanna talk with me?”

“who is this?” you roll your eyes, unimpressed by the cheery voice coming through the phone. “it’s like eleven at night, what do you want?”

“ya tell me your name, and i’ll tell ya mine,” that voice lilts into a teasing tone, words dripping with persuasive sweetness.

“nah, i’m heading to bed. nice talk.”

“aw, bedtime already? you’re not even gonna watch a movie before you sleep?” the question has your brows furrowing in aggravation, but you sigh, choosing to answer anyway.

“i didn’t have anything in mind,” the caller lets out a laugh, straight into your ear. “what, you’ve got a suggestion?”

“do you like scary movies?” and you can hear the smile in the caller’s voice; he’s amused, probably laughing with his friends over the prank call in the moments of muffled silence.

“i suppose so.”

“don’t you have a favorite? why not watch it?”

“well, i won’t be able to sleep,” you reply simply, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “but the longer we talk, the more sleep i lose out on. so, have a good night!”

“wait!” the caller snaps, demanding as ever. the sudden outburst sends chills straight down your spine. “don’t hang up on me.”

“and why shouldn’t i?” the blatant defiance has the caller letting out a laugh that sounds rather menacing . . he clears his throat, seemingly returning to his more even tempered tone.

“we’re not done talking,” he says simply, sounding a little crackly through the phone. “so don’t hang up, you’ll—”

a rational person with an interest in talking would certainly call during the day, and only once or twice before quitting altogether to wait for a call back. an irrational person would have your house phones ringing off the hooks while you were in the shower, calling nonstop and then getting far too arrogant once you finally picked up. just as you slam the phone back down, it starts to ring again.

you decide to leave the room, figuring that the caller will tire himself out quickly, but he doesn’t. in the time that you left the phone to go to another room, there wasn’t a single beat of silence. furious, you race toward the phone, fingers sliding on the kitchen counter as you snatch it up.

“fuck you! listen to me, you’d better stop—”

“no, you listen to me,” the caller snarls, and the harshness of his voice has your heart kicking hard against your rib cage. something in your gut tells you that this isn’t just a talkative caller. “don’t fucking hang up on me again, got that?”

you recover some of your composure, goosebumps rising on your skin. the cool breeze blowing through a nearby window adds to the chilling feeling that’s washed over you in only a matter of seconds. “w-well, what do you want, then?”

“i wanna see your insides, dummy,” is the crazed response, and you can’t stop the way your face immediately twists in horror. a clicking sound is heard as the second phone in your house—the one upstairs—is picked up, and another person hops onto the call.

“now, now,” this new voice is smooth, immediately drawing your attention as you listen attentively through the phone. “that’s no way to talk, you’ll scare her silly.”

“what the fuck?” you ask aloud, although you hadn’t meant to. all you can think about is the fact that two weirdos have you almost . . cornered on the phone.

the crazy voice scoffs, ignoring your mumbling. “well, you heard her! trying to hang up and shit,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval before sighing. “anyway, where were we?”

you don’t even say anything, and the other voice exhales into the phone. “see, look at what you’ve gone and done now. our girl’s too scared to talk to us, isn’t she?”

“look, i-i’m just gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

“you’re not going anywhere, honey,” the calmer one of the two says, but this time his voice is much clearer, almost as if he’s standing beside you. you take a step backward, trying to shake off the weird feelings and relentless goosebumps spreading across your skin.

you might as well be wearing nothing.

the satin slip dress you were planning to sleep in is as thin as plastic wrap; you’ve backed up into someone’s strong chest and thanks to the thinness of your pajamas, you can feel each sharp ridge of muscle. the pecs are strong, firm to the touch, and the abs are hard enough to cut diamonds. fear races through your body, so overwhelming that your lips part to let out a scream—but the noise is muffled by a large palm that pulls you back, flush against the muscles. separated only by a few layers of clothing, you can feel the warmth of their body and the casual rise of their chest as they breathe. if you weren’t being silenced, this would be comforting, in a way.

“promise you won’t scream, baby?” that calm voice has a dangerous edge; you nod immediately, frantically, desperately — as you feel a few tears gather in your eyes. this . . does not look, feel, or sound good in any way imaginable. who even are these people? and why you? a seemingly normal thursday evening had gone entirely downhill, and you didn’t even know why.

“good girl,” the person hums, dropping their hand from the lower half of your face and instead replacing it with the sharp edge of a knife. “let’s head upstairs, shall we?” as you ascend the steps, the blade drops lower, until it hovers over the tender skin of your throat. you can’t even turn around and see who the person is, for fear of getting cut over the simple action.

“could i at least turn around?”

“what for?” he asks, nudging the bedroom door open. you’re met with the frightening sight of a person in robes lounging on your bed, against your pillows. they have a spooky, ghostly mask, but you know who it is the second their mouth opens.

“you took the knives out that quickly?” the figure clicks his tongue, raising a hand to his face to pull off the ghostface mask. so this is what this is—some kind of ridiculous scream roleplay . . but the feel of the knife and the way it gleams is too real. “what happened to playing around, suguru?”

“it’s—it’s you! from the phone.” you say, straining against the man behind you, who pulls the knife a few inches away from your throat.

“careful now, doll. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“if you let me go, maybe i’d—” the man on the bed sits up then, pulling off his mask. you can’t see who he is just yet, the shadow from his hood obscuring his face. in a moment, he grabs hold of your face with a gloved hand, fingers squeezing cruelly at your cheeks.

it’s utterly nasty, the way feelings of attraction twist in your stomach. heat rises to your cheeks and you swallow, looking into diamond blue eyes that have your heart fluttering despicably. how is it possible to even be focused on your grim reaper’s looks, almost entirely forgetting their intentions as you lose yourself in those eyes?

“cat got your tongue? i said i wanna see your insides and you didn’t even look fazed.”

beneath the robe, you can see the tips of snowy hair, along with a face that’s far too handsome to belong to some kind of murderer. you shake your head in disbelief, sucking in a breath. “uh . . huh? sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

he drops your face with an annoyed scoff, stepping back to plop down on your bed before fully pulling off his hood. “y’know what—suguru, you deal with her.”

the man behind you pushes you forward, and you awkwardly take a seat beside the sighing killer. suguru tugs off his mask and inspects the knife closely, running a gloved finger over the edge before nodding. “might as well use the knives on you. maybe you’ll hear us then?”

“what’re you—why’re you doing all this?” you ask, the words sputtering out of your mouth nervously. “is there any way i can convince you not to cut me open?”

suguru looks at his literal partner in crime, pushing his black bangs away from his eyes as he speaks. “oh? trying to cheat death, sweet thing?”

you shrug, casually flopping onto your back. the satiny fabric of your dress flips up, and you unintentionally give both of them a great view of your panties. now that they’re deliberating how to move forward with you, the fear of the situation has dissipated greatly. “i just wanna go to bed and live to see another day tomorrow. name the price for my life and i’ll pay it.”

“those are fighting words,” suguru remarks, “don’t you agree, satoru?”

satoru nods, eyes glued to the thin fabric covering what’s between your legs. his mind runs wild as he imagines what he and suguru could impose on you. they’re practically in sync—suguru looks over just as satoru looks up, the two of them sharing a knowing look.

“hmph. sit up and listen.” satoru nudges your thigh, and you do as he says, looking bored. the whole night has done one too many 180s, giving you the most severe case of whiplash in your life. you’d initially been annoyed, terrified, then mildly attracted, and now . . almost indifferent.

“you’ve got my full attention.”

“we’ll let you live, on one condition,” satoru raises a finger before you can object, while suguru’s eyes covertly sweep over your body. “think you could handle us at the same time?”

a proposition for a threesome is something you certainly did not see coming! you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to maintain composure. suguru spices it up with a smirk, dragging that sharp knife of his along the edge of your jaw.

“you’ll have to fuck like your life depends on it.”

it does. tension weighs the air down, filling the room with a thickness even suguru’s knife couldn’t cut through. sweat beads along the skin of your spine and you exhale in defeat. being between these two would be hard—in all ways possible; but one mistake and they’d probably end up slitting your throat.

truthfully, you’re willing to risk it. most girls don’t usually cross paths with two men that are each extremely attractive and willing to share you between one another. you squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“y-yeah, okay. i’ll do it.”

“atta girl,” satoru praises, the corners of his eyes crinkling. a wicked smile finds its way onto his rosy lips, but you don’t back down, instead spreading your legs. you look between them, a silent invitation extended in one glance.

“lie back for us.”

“you were the one who told me to sit up—” perhaps the unnecessary snark isn’t a good idea, not with the way suguru eyes you warily.

satoru leans in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut you up. his body barrels into yours, pushing you into suguru, who catches you and cages you against his strong chest. the knife is abandoned as he strokes his fingertips along the tender skin of your neck, sighing into your ear while satoru occupies your lips.

“so pretty. heh, you’re pretty every night.”

suguru’s touch has you letting out a moan that satoru eagerly swallows, his gloved hands roaming your body. however, he seems to remember he’s got gloves on; without pulling away, he snatches them off.

“her tits, suguru—play with her tits.”

the mumbled words are audible only to suguru, who complies with a chuckle. unlike satoru, he makes no move to do away with his gloves. you moan, his hands squeezing at your tits while his fingertips stroke over your nipples until they grow hard.

“s-suguru,” you mewl, pulling away for a moment to suck a breath into your deprived lungs, “keep touching me there—just like that.”

satoru’s palm comes down hard against the side of your thigh, and he grips your face, forcing you to look at him. “focus on me, got that? wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?”

you shake your head, and in a split second, satoru’s got your upper lip between his teeth. he bites down playfully; the impact makes you gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. arousal pools in your panties, and you fidget in your spot between them, hoping that you’ll finally get the attention you’ve been craving sooner rather than later. suguru’s tongue drags against your neck while he takes in the scent of your body wash from earlier’s shower. there’s a cool sensation coming from the center of his tongue—you can feel a firm ball of some kind.

it’s a little shameful, getting this hot and heavy from a simple kiss. only, his tongue rolls against yours, and any semblance of embarrassment melts away. suguru’s fingers pinch both of your nipples at the same time, sending shockwaves right to your pussy.

“fuck,” you sob into satoru’s mouth, practically lightheaded from how overwhelming it already is, as well as the lack of air. “i-i need more.”

suguru hums, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples. “already slutting yourself out for us, sweetheart? that was fast, wasn’t it?”

satoru finally draws back, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. he doesn’t move just yet, savoring the moment like a piece of special candy—you’ve practically got hearts in your eyes, all hot and bothered because of him. well, suguru is a factor, but he didn’t put in nearly as much work as satoru.

“lie back for us, babe.” this time you don’t fight them on it, scooting off suguru so you can comfortably prop yourself up on the mountain of pillows.

“tsk. this dress ought to go.” suguru brandishes his knife, and cuts through the satin material of the slip as easily as a stick of butter.

“hey!” you snap, the remains of your dress sliding off to the sides of the bed like rags. “what about you two!? you can’t just cut up my clothes like that when neither of you are naked!”

satoru rolls his eyes, tossing your legs apart. meanwhile, suguru clearly isn’t done with that knife; he trails it along the slopes of your naked body, the edge of the blade sharpened in a way that has you gasping. he applies a little bit of pressure, and your skin splits like it would after a paper cut.

“a-are you cutting my skin open?” you ask incredulously. you know the answer, but for whatever reason, you don’t pull away from him.

“maybe,” he replies breezily. “‘s nothing deep. you can handle it, can’t you, honey?”

“would you look at that?” satoru wolf whistles, and heat rises to your cheeks as he gathers your legs together, tugging them up. the knife pauses at your collarbone as suguru leans backwards to take a look, and his eyebrows raise immediately.

“she’s fucking soaked.”

“put the knife down ‘n come give it a taste.”

satoru’s request is breathless, but effective. the knife falls onto the blankets, and for a moment you use your head to consider what might happen in the future—someone could sit on that thing, lie down on it. satoru’s tongue rips the thought out of your head and replaces the words that were on the tip of your tongue with a sweet moan of bliss. your clit throbs at the prospect of more, and their balmy puffs of breath fanning over you only arouse you further.

their faces press together, side by side as they start to eat your pussy in a way that immediately has your back arching and hips bucking. satoru focuses all his attention on your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while suguru slurps up all of your slick. there it is again, that cool sensation—he’s got a tongue piercing. the moonlight shines through the flowy curtains, illuminating the killers in an almost angelic glow . . maybe they’re actually pussy killers.

“‘s like fucking candy,” satoru moans, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. it bumps into suguru’s, and he only lets out a laugh that sends vibrations through your entire core. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, shit.”

the room fills with the lewd, nasty sounds of their slurping and licking as they devour your pussy together. you slip a finger between your teeth and bite down once one too many noises threaten to escape you, and suguru pulls back to land a smarting slap on your pussy.

“ah ah. do not try to go quiet on us.”

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you stutter dumbly, mind and body reeling from the delicious sting of the slap.

“we want you screaming,” he emphasizes, spitting onto your cunt and watching as it flutters, the glob slipping down more rapidly due to the movement. “and you will be, by the end of all this. understand, doll?”

you nod hastily, and his eyes flick upwards to your face, the hardness in them a simple warning. “yeah, i understand.”

satoru’s drawing hearts and letters on your clit, each one making you shudder more than the last. each drag of his tongue makes him moan as he takes in more of your taste. beside him, suguru’s dips his tongue between your folds, the sensation nothing more than a tease. they plan to split you open on their cocks, and getting you desperate for it is only the first step of their plan.

“ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cry, thighs quaking on either side of their heads. “please, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to us,” satoru is the first to speak, his voice clear as it cuts through the lewd sounds in the air. he’s got one hand on the side of your thigh, holding you open just for them. “on our tongues, like a good girl.”

satoru’s ministrations on your clit grow more insistent; he’s working to pull your orgasm from you, while suguru continues to slurp at your messy pussy, his eyes falling shut. a familiar and overwhelming sensation coils in your tummy; it’s one that has your hands flying to both suguru and satoru’s heads, fingers finding purchase in their hair.

“i—i think ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, back arching off the bed while your hips jolt forward into their faces. after hearing the first word of your delirious warning, satoru replaced his tongue with his finger and moved beside suguru, the two of them slurping all your cunt has to offer. to them, it’s like drinking ambrosia.

you’re pulling hard at their hair, only encouraging them to groan against you. suguru speaks, eyes rolling back from just a little hair pulling. but it makes sense, with hair like that. of course his scalp is very sensitive.

“cover us in your cum, baby.”

obedient and right on time, your pussy gushes, hole fluttering around nothing while your clit throbs beneath satoru’s finger. the intense orgasm has left you twitching from the aftershocks, gasping for breath, and overly sensitive. of course, satoru and suguru take advantage of the aforementioned sensitivity with smirks on their faces.

“no, wait, i-i just came,” is all you can sob, your hands smacked away once you try to tug them off your aching cunt. “satoruuu, suguruuu.”

suguru only laughs, mimicking your tone with a roll of his eyes. “aw, babyyy. that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

with how sensitive you are, it’s not hard for them to drag a second orgasm out of you. this time, a few tears cascade down your cheeks as you fall over the edge with a pitched cry. satoru spanks your still twitching cunt and laughs at the way you gasp and recoil, legs still trembling.

“suguru, whatcha think? you wanna take her mouth ‘n i’ll fuck her pussy?”

“that’s far too considerate, satoru.” he shakes his head, talking about you as if you’re not in front of them. “c’mon,” suguru purrs, gesturing for you to get up as he slips off his robe and boxers. “lie on top of me.”

you can’t help but ogle, a little starstruck by his body and the thrill of everything. he sticks out his tongue playfully when he notices you staring, the metal ball in his tongue gleaming. his abs flex and his cock bobs as he lays down on your bed, beckoning you over with a gloved finger. satoru gulps, panting softly at the sight. following his best friend’s lead, he slips off his matching clothing and mounts the bed, which sinks under his weight with a creak. part of you wonders if the bed frame will give out by the end of this.

“hand me the lube,” suguru grunts, catching the small bottle in his larger hand. the liquid is cool, even through the leather of his gloves. he rubs his fingers together to warm it up a little for you. his fingertips prod at the tight ring of your asshole, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

“c’mon. relax for me, doll.”

you take a breath, body sweltering with arousal. this is certainly new for you, but you don’t complain—and anyway, the slight coolness of the lube feels good against your hot skin. satoru bites down on his lower lip as he watches his best friend prep you to take both of their cocks at the same time. something wicked has the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he pictures you screaming for them.

likely picturing the same thing, suguru tongues at your jaw, kissing the tender skin wetly before nipping hard. you can only cry out, his lips serving as a simple distraction while his fingers push inside and stretch you out.

you gasp, and he feels you squeeze down hard on his fingers, hips jerking away. “come now, don’t run from it,” suguru coos, twisting his body beneath you to angle you the right way again. he ignores your whining, and satoru silently strokes his cock to the sight. “i know, i know. just breathe for me, ‘kay?”

slowly, your body accommodates the new stretch without any more sting or discomfort. in fact, your hips begin to rock into his fingers, chasing them when he starts to pull out.

“i-i think she’s ready, suguru,” satoru finally speaks up, clearing his throat. his voice is a little choked, and you can clearly see the flush on his cheeks even in the dark. “for both of us.”

“you hear that, honey?” his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear, making you shudder against him. “let’s see who can make you scream the loudest—me or satoru.”

“as if,” the man in question huffs, pushing your thigh to the side and looking over your dripping pussy with an obvious hunger. “fuck, baby. i’m gonna ruin you.”

with that, satoru grasps his cock and guides it inside your needy cunt. suguru does the same, pushing his length into your ass. the three of you moan collectively, a harmony if ever there was one. you sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.

satoru grits his teeth and grips your hips for support, then pushes all the way inside you. he bottoms out easily, his cock sliding against suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue. so thin that they can feel the shape of one another’s cocks through you.

“fuckin’—shittt, oh my god,” satoru’s easily overwhelmed, heart pounding in his ears while sweat covers his entire body in a sticky sheen.

suguru bites your neck hard, but the pain registers as pleasure despite the fact that he tastes a few irony drops of blood on his tongue.

“do either of you plan to move?” you complain, lips parting in an ‘o’ shape around a whiny moan. “or are we just gonna sit here—”

“shut the fuck up,” suguru groans, clapping a dry and gloved hand over your tits before squeezing them. “we’ll move when we fucking feel like it.”

waves of almost euphoria wash over your entire body, leaving you breathless and panting. when you’d first met these two, you’d been sharp and aware of your surroundings, but now everything is hazy and your body burns as though you have a fever.

the bed creaks dangerously as satoru jumps into action, slowly rocking his hips into yours with a few choked, wanton moans. before long, he’s more confident, fucking into you with a tight grip on your skin and at an invigorated pace. you’re so hot and oh so tight—satoru fucking loves it—you feel perfect. he loves the way you squirm on top of his best friend, hips canting forward eagerly to meet his. the evidence of how good he’s making you feel is painted all over your face, apparent in the wobble of your lower lip and the tears in your eyes.

you hear a sigh from behind you. “can’t lose the bet,” suguru’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. it takes him a few seconds, but he finally starts moving, groaning in approval at the shake of your body and gasping, ragged breaths.

above you, sweat rolls down satoru’s face, the snowy tips of his hair sticking to his forehead while others fall in front of his eyes. “y-you like it like this, baby?” the question is rhetorical, but your whimpering tells him everything he needs to know. the corners of his lips curl into a smile that’s soon wiped away by overwhelming pleasure. “you’re taking us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart . . driving me insane, goddamn.”

“i second that,” the metal ball of suguru’s piercing clicks as he sweeps his tongue over his teeth, panting hard into your ear. “really, baby . . feel like the luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world right now, heh.”

as if you’re not the luckiest girl—being sandwiched between these two is a dream you didn’t even know you had. inside you, their cocks throb against one another, dragging in and out of your holes ruthlessly. the tempo only speeds up, becoming too much too quickly.

you nudge a weak, clammy hand against satoru’s waist, arching your back on top of suguru and nearly nailing him in the face with a reverse headbutt. before the latter can say anything, satoru snatches your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, then pins it down to the bed. he advances forward, his chest now against yours to keep you still.

“ah ah,” he tuts, his nipples hard as they press against yours, “move your damn hand, baby. this is what you wanted, remember?”

“i certainly do,” suguru titters, nipping at your earlobe. “don’t be like that. you can take it, can’t you?”

his words are convincing; he’s got you nodding in acceptance. he’s right, of course. this is what you wanted earlier—you’ve been taking both of their cocks so fucking well. just as you tell yourself you’ll make it through this, satoru’s fingers ghost along the soft skin of your stomach. despite the exhaustion that’s setting into his body, his hips don’t even stutter as he focuses on your swollen clit.

“oh . . oh my god,” the words are torn from your throat, which only grows more sore with all the noise you can’t seem to stop making. a familiar shakiness settles in your voice, and you’re fighting to keep the breath in your lungs, but it escapes you far too easily. “i’m-‘m gonna cum for you, ‘m—”

as you hurtle closer to all encompassing euphoria, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fade out and grow foggy. yet, you manage to hear their voices eagerly spurring you on, the two of them in the same boat as you.

“yeah, ‘s right. fuckin’ cum for us, baby.” satoru’s own orgasm creeps up on him, his head tipping back as your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. of course, suguru can feel the throbbing of his best friend’s cock and the quavering of your needy pussy. he releases your tits, seeing the bruising he’s left before squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

“ya heard him, honey,” he utters after a long groan, his voice low and husky. “take all of our fucking cum.” you gasp out, nodding your head frantically as you teeter over the edge.

everything happens fast, and all at the same time. satoru cums inside you, his broad shoulders shaking as he rides it out while your pussy practically milks him for more. your cunt spasms, hips jerking upwards from the intensity of it. the movement pushes out suguru, his cum leaking out of your bruised ass and spilling in white puddles on his pelvis.

satoru looks down, biting down on his lower lip as he pulls his cock from you. this is quite the reward, seeing cum pour from both of your spent and twitching holes. your shuddering, sweltering body finally begins to cool after what feels like hours. suguru’s exhausted, but he kindly lifts you and lays you down on the bed beside him. satoru flops down beside you with a heaving sigh, only to lay on the knife from earlier.

“ow, fuck!” he jolts, sitting up and tugging the sharp blade from where it’s tangled in the sheets. he unceremoniously hurls it to the floor, laying back down with a vengeful huff.

you’re too tired to laugh, but a small smile plays on your lips. “do you still wanna kill me?”

“not right now,” suguru throws an arm over his face, gesturing in the direction of the floor. “the knife’s down there, anyway.”

you sit up, craning your neck to take a look. from what you can see, the floor is littered with their dark costumes and two masks, the knife completely out of sight. “i don’t see it.”

“hm, remember we talked about making you scream for us?” satoru speaks up, and in your dizzy haze, you don’t notice that glint in his eyes.

“uh, yeah, i think so? i thought you already did.”

“don’t you watch scary movies?” suguru scoffs, looking at you from beneath his forearm. “you should know what happens next.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes. “yeah, whatever. what happens next, you kill me? very funny. let me convince you again,” and you clear your throat. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel!”

satoru simply shakes his head, and the knife plunges into your back. with a gasp, you sputter out a few garbled words, blood pouring down your bare back as you fall backwards onto the bed. you writhe on the mussed sheets, blood spilling from your lips and trickling down your chin in vermillion rivulets. beside you, the blood covered suguru and satoru let you struggle aimlessly until your body stills; then they slip their masks on again . .

“andddd cut!” the director jumps from his seat with proud claps, and the production assistants rush in from every direction to help clean up the mess.

“satoru, fuck! that knife was so sharp,” you sit up, sending a glare his way as you wipe the fake blood off your skin. despite being a fake knife, the shiny plastic point was rather jagged.

“excellent performances, the three of you! our halloween special is sure to be a hit!” the director is gushing as he praises the three of you.

“yeah, yeah,” suguru says, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “i’ve gotta take a shower. seriously, the corn syrup is so fucking sticky.”

[chuluoyi]

✎ a birthday to remember

- gojo satoru x reader

what is the so-called grand surprise does your husband prepare for your birthday?

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—massive fluff, comfort, pregnant!reader, (cough) pregnant sex

note: hi peeps it's been ages since i last wrote gojo :') and love entries on that matter *sobs* but here it is... my birthday has passed too but here's to any of you whose birthday is near!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sensei— happy birthday!”

This year, your birthday happened to fall on a workday.

If it were up to you, you would have taken the day off. However, Satoru had been assigned to Osaka and wouldn’t be returning until weekend, so taking leave and staying at home would most likely make you feel lonely.

Not only that, with you entering the fifth month of pregnancy, you figured it was better to stay active. And by the end of the day—you didn’t regret coming in at all. The students were all so sweet, they even chimed in to get you a pretty maternity dress to wear. You couldn’t wait to tell Satoru about them tonight.

You skipped happily toward the parking lot, but right when you turned the corner, suddenly—

“Wifeeeey!”

“Oh my god!”

You let out a loud gasp and took a step back, taking in the view. A sea of colorful balloons, with a man in suit standing right in the middle of it—

Your husband. In flesh. You blinked once, twice— thrice.

“Satoru...?”

He poked his head out of the string of balloons, a beaming, million-dollar grin lit up his face at the sight of your shocked expression. “Wifeeey! Happy birthdaaaaay!”

Before you could even process his sudden appearance, he had you in a chokehold, engulfing you in a bear hug and nuzzling his face against yours with childlike enthusiasm, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“What are you doing here?!” you half-shrieked, the surprise spilling from your voice.

He pulled back, frowning dramatically. “Ehhh? You don’t want me to be back?”

“Yes—”

His eyes widened as if you’d just committed the gravest betrayal. “You big meanie!”

“No,” you quickly retracted, trying to hold back your own smile at how comically dejected he was. “I mean… aren’t you supposed to be back on Sunday?”

“Heh heh, nope! I lied~” Satoru chirped, his grin returning in full force. “It’s my wifey’s birthday—how could I not come back for you?”

In that moment, your heart fluttered. He was probably saying it for no reason, but the fact that he really did fly back from Osaka just to meet you for your birthday meant a lot to you.

His big, warm hand then gently caressed your visible baby bump, his grin widening when he got a kick. “Ah, right… Hello to you too, baby! Did I startle you too? Sorry~”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “He is terrified.”

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper directed at your belly. “Don’t worry, baby. Papa’s here now, and he’s got balloons. That makes everything better, right?”

“...how long have you been standing here with these balloons?”

“Hmmm, not long. About an hour, maybe?”

“You shithead—why didn’t you just come inside?”

Satoru’s gasp of mock offense made you laugh despite yourself. “And ruin the surprise? My wifey deserves the full dramatic effect!”

Being Gojo Satoru’s wife certainly came with its fair share of patience-testing episodes, and sometimes you wanted to return him to Yaga for additional lessons of discipline.

But it was candid, over-the-top acts like this that reminded you just how lucky you were to have him.

Satoru brought you to a high-end restaurant for your birthday dinner before the two of you finally returned home.

And the moment you opened the door, you were greeted by countless balloons floating on the ceiling and the ground, the fairy lights illuminating the room in a cozy glow.

You were taken aback, mesmerized by the sight. “When did you even have the time to decorate the house?”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I have many little helpers—”

“Don't tell me it's Ichiji and Nanami? Satoru, you—!”

“I promised Nanami I wouldn’t make him blow up balloons! Though I might have heard him grumble something about being above this…”

"You're unbelievable..." You let out a resigned sigh, yet still smiling as you stepped further into the living room, now bathed in the soft, golden glow.

Satoru observed you with a quiet smile. His pretty wife, and the small life within you. He adored you the most out of everyone else in this twisted world.

Click! Click!

"Huh?" You turned to him when you heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter.

Satoru was holding his phone, an amused glint in his eyes. “Just capturing the moment, you know. You, the lights, and baby. It's perfect.”

You giggled. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

He shrugged, that signature grin returning. “What can I say? You’re beautiful.”

Later, you'd find out that one of the photos would be his lock screen from now on. It would be the first thing he saw every time he unlocked his phone.

Satoru brought out the box he had prepared, handing it to you with a sly grin. “Look, sweets, before we go to bed, I have one more gift for you—and you have to wear it now.”

You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, as you took the box from his hands. The moment you opened it and pulled out the contents, you froze.

“—?! Satoru!”

A scarlet lingerie set. The bra features intricate lace trim along the edges, and the matching panties are equally bold, with a sheer lace overlay. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Satoru, who was watching you with an winning grin, clearly pleased with his choice.

“What?” he challenged. “They'll suit you, c'mon.”

“You're absolutely shameless.”

“But you love me anyway~”

You let out a defeated sigh, glancing up at him, already realizing there was no way out of this now.

“You’re lucky I’ve hit my head somewhere and married you.”

. . .

He was right. It fit you perfectly.

The moment you got out of the bathroom, Satoru could feel himself getting hard already. You looked like a vision, the deep red seemed to highlight your every curve, turning you into an effortless seductress.

And not only that, you were adorable too— fiddling with your fingers and touching your rounded belly, barely hiding how self-conscious you were.

"Don't just stare at me..." you mumbled, glaring at him.

He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch tender despite the fire in his eyes. “You’re making it hard to look away, you know.”

His hands then trailed down, skimming the sides of your body, each touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. It was almost as if he was unraveling you, piece by piece, and you weren’t sure whether to pull away or pull him closer.

And wait... was it just you or were the space between your legs indeed getting hotter and wetter?

As if reading your mind, suddenly two of his fingers touched your barely clad pussy, and you gasped. That's right— there is indeed a hole in this freaking lingerie!

"Are... we...?" you swallowed, your gaze meeting his.

"Can I?" he asked back, voice husky. His crystal clear eyes burning with lust as he assessed you— from your eyes, lips, and then the inviting sight of your cleavage.

Did you want this?

Of course you were. Your birthday was still far from over, and you missed him too.

In response, you pushed his already hovering fingers inside you, making you hold your breath. From that point on, Satoru knew what you wanted.

Without another word, he rubbed soft circles around your clit, and you let out an unabashed moan at the contact, clinging to his shoulders for support. "Ahh..."

He teased you for a while, before slowly entering his fingers into your throbbing folds, and you were close to collapsing if it weren't for his secure hold over you.

"You're so, so damn naughty..." he whispered lowly in your ear. It was taking everything he had not to lose it right then and there. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, but the sight of your writhing face and that baby bump was damn distracting and ignited the beast inside him.

He made you pregnant already, but there was just this primal desire— wanting to mark you more...

His fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, dragging them deep but just not deep enough—

"Please..." you scratched his back unwittingly, frustrated at his shirt that got in the way. "I-I... want... you..."

How sweet. Satoru relished in your titillating breaths and chuckled, vigorously continuing his dirty ministrations.

"Say it louder," he growled in your ears. "Can't hear you."

The bastard. You yanked his hair and made him catch your teary gaze. "I... want you..."

Sinful desire flared to life at your words. "Your wish is my command, missus."

Satoru suddenly pulled out his fingers—ignoring the whine you accidentally let out for being empty all of a sudden—and admired the sheen, sticky whiteness on them.

"I barely did anything and you're this wet already," he snorted, tasting it. "They're right about the pregnancy hormones."

He placed his hand on your waist, pressing a kiss on the firm skin of your belly, before undoing his belt and trousers and pulling out his hardened member.

The sight made you actually gulp, especially when he pumped it. He pulled you to his lap and guided his pride to your sopping entrance. The moment he inserted himself, he let out a groan of relief, while you arched your back and hissed, "Ngh!"

Satoru captured your lips, his hand pressing against your aching spine. He pulled you closer, urging you to take him completely.

"Ahh— ugh... mrgh!" you sighed against his neck as soon as you did, trying to even your breath. This was something you had done so many times before, but why was this time felt like an awakening of some sorts?

"Most beautiful," he breathed in your ear wickedly. "Don't worry, leave everything to me."

He rocked his hips against yours, one hand on your back and the other gripping your thigh. With each salacious thrust, you mewled and he panted, keeping you steady all the while.

He could feel your baby bump rubbing against as his toned abs, going along with the rhythm. Satoru grinned proudly, noticing how much it had grown over the past few months. The baby must be healthy in there, huh?

The relief somehow spurred him into pick up his pace, thrusting you more deeply than before. You almost squealed.

"You know what?" he grunted, mind hazed. He didn't really realize what he was saying to you, to be honest. "You're the prettiest when you're like this— round and full, with my kid."

You only caught the lewdness in his words, but you weren't able to ponder about it as he suddenly buried his face into your supple breasts.

"Look at them, getting bigger too— these days..." He sucked on the sensitive skin and you gasped in pleasure, crying out afterwards when he fondled them with both hands.

Your senses were overly heightened and you knew you wouldn't last long. Satoru too knew he was nearing his orgasm as he tore your new bra and sucked on the mound, furthering your never-ending moans, causing your eyes to roll back as the blinding pleasure overtook you— pushing you to cum right then and there.

In the next second, he pushed you into him impossibly deeper, and his hot release gushed inside your womb. You writhed at the sudden fullness, before getting limp and collapsed into him, not even realizing that you had squirted all over his lap and dress shirt.

Your husband glanced at you, in disbelief himself at the messy scene, but utterly satisfied as his bright eyes twinkled. "Heh..."

You were awoken at three in the morning, and the first thing you noticed was that you were in Satoru's warm embrace.

His arms were wrapped around you securely, holding you close as if he were protecting you even in his sleep. You must have passed out afterwards, as all you recalled was the numbing exhaustion.

Yet you knew for certain that Satoru had cleaned you up, dressed you in your pajamas, and even placed a heat pad on your hips to soothe you.

(He remembered the one time you woke up with cramps right after a raunchy night before)

Your husband was a cheeky shit, but for you, he was willing to go extra miles. It was an overlooked fact sometimes due to how unserious he was, but each time he did and you were reminded of it, your heart always soared.

Looking up, you found his peaceful sleeping face, and not for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how truly handsome he was. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gently caressed his face.

"Hmm...?" he frowned adorably, and you almost giggled. But when he cracked his eyes open, you almost regretted it—oh yes, he is a light sleeper.

"Sweets...? Can't sleep...?" He turned to you, voice thick with sleepiness. "Anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just watching you." You smiled, poking his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Really? Nothing's amiss?" His hand gently slid to your belly, giving it a reassuring rub. "You have to tell me if anything’s not right..."

"Hush, I'm fine."

After making sure you were indeed fine, Satoru tightened his arms over you and pressed his eyes shut. You wrapped your arms around his back in response, feeling his steady warmth. Right in this moment, you were overwhelmed with this gentle, soft feeling— love, the kind he gave you so freely and candidly.

Your birthday had passed, but if there was one wish only he could fulfill, surely you could still ask him, right?

"Satoru..." you muttered, feeling the cool breeze of the air conditioner lulling you back to sleep. "Will you stay with me... forever?"

A smile curled on his lips at your question, his eyes still closed. "Silly girl, it's your bedtime, so why ask that?"

You thought he wouldn't answer it as he didn't say anything more. But right before you drift into deep sleep, he pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, giving you his promise— one that felt truer than anything else he had said to you before.

"I will... so you must stay with me too, got it?"

[suguru-getos]

bnha men when you use the safeword: fem!reader

characters included: bakugou, hawks (my 2 pookies)

bakugou katsuki:

it was hectic, the feeling of it all. at first you’d even say it was feeling good, but with the way katsuki’s amped up stamina was nowhere near done on your body, you could start to lose yourself a little. katsuki had just come back from a business trip, he missed you… you missed him too. but the way his cock plunged into your sopping wet pussy, smirking and unraveling your insides every single time… it was starting to ache. especially when he bred you twice already, forced into a mating press and forced to hear the churning sounds of his seed inside you bubbling out with his mushroom tip abusing your poor hole. “kats-“ you mumble, nails indenting over his skin & making it raw. “suki…” words fail you, there is nothing you can do or say for this. you want this to stop, your body can’t take it anymore. “s- suki…” you whimpered again. katsuki’s brows are glistening with sweat, he smirks at you, his genuine, loving smirk as he leans in and kisses you again. your lips smashed against his. “my pretty girl.” katsuki coos, but his pace, his cock isn’t being so nice. and you can’t take it anymore.

“door.” its just silly how you and katsuki decided the safeword term. not creative at all, you just glanced at the door while discussing it with him & this is the first time you’ve ever used it anyway.

there is an instant stop in his movements, siren eyes widened in utter shock. “princess? y’ okay?” the position is instantly adjusted to you laying down comfortably, your swollen cunt parting with his veinny cock as he leans back, kissing your cheek, your forehead. “s’ that too much f’ my baby?” he almost pouts with complete genuineness, looking at you and waiting for you to speak. his warm palms reflexively massaging your forearm and kneading at your body to provide comfort. “sorry- just- got too much for me.” you pouted, tears welling up in your eyes.

“shut up, stop apologizin’ cmere.” katsuki is quick to shun that bit from you, craddling you in his arms instantly. he knows aftercare is important or you’ll fall into submission drop. “my good girl~ so proud of you, you know that? cus’ y’ communicated when it didn’t feel good.” he nuzzles his nose against yours, a bright grin over his face. “my pretty girl.” he echoed that over and over, kissing all over your cute body and hugging you closer, wrapped around in a blanket burrito. get ready to be babied until you get annoyed of him. 💅🏻

keigo takami:

there is an eerie streak that has keigo’s head in a haze to pleasure you tonight. he normally gets in on those, but you’re just so delectable, so beautiful looking with your desperate squirming and mewling when his feathers clamp around your nipple and when his tongue fucks your pussy and flicks your clit with a rhythm perfect for your body — it’s hard to stop. it’s always been hard for keigo to stop playing with his little prey.

“ssh- stop moving around little one.” your squirming and moans are chastised by your man instantly. feathers clamping and spreading your legs apart as he grins. leaning in and continuing with his favorite meal. he’s already made you orgasm twice, and this is the third time he’s pushing your boundaries. “not my problem you taste so divine.” he grunts, nose nuzzling against your poor, swollen clit as he softly nips at your inner thigh.

the next thing which happens has your eyes widened and mouth agape, his thumb spreads your pussy lips and the tip of his tongue leans back your clit’s hood, flicking and vibrating around the exposed & vulnerable bundle of nerves with vigour. “AH- oh no.” you shake your head, this makes you feel queasy. this makes you feel sensitive and sends jolts of good pain down your pelvis. you don’t want that pain, the foreign feeling catching up to you rapidly.

“keigo- no.” you whine, struggling to no avail. you always mumble these things and you know its hard for keigo to take you seriously around this. “feather.” you squealed the safeword out. all of hawks’ movements stop. the feathers wrapped around your ankles and your hands let you go instantly. his marked eyes widening and leaning away. “oh-“ his lips parted.

you didn’t feel like you were comfortable enough with this, that’s all there was. maybe you misused the safeword. are you even a good partner to him? before your doubt flourishes into something rooting deep, keigo hugs you gently, letting you straddle his lap and his wings forming a cocoon around you. “ssh~ there there, sorry it got too much for my little baby.” he hums, kissing the crown of your head.

“just. got uncomfy.” you mumbled, sniffling softly. “maybe i shouldn’t-“

“of course you should have, there is a reason safewords are created sweetness. and if you didn’t feel comfortable you had every right to use this. okay?” keigo coos, kissing your cheek and hugging you tightly. his ragged breaths slowly calming down at the embrace of his mate. even your bubbling doubts vanished quickly as keigo swayed you gently in his hug, humming a random tune of the favorite song you have.

“too bad you don’t have a safeword to stop me from singing.” he hums, after minutes of comfortable silence and snorts. your silly liddul pookie <3

[6gumi]

“ inexperienced ” my ass !

⋆.˚ NSFW mdni . wc . 884 . multi-fandom men x f!reader 、AGED ! UP CHARACTERS ! 、 cunilingus 、maybe tit play ? ? am not suresies ! 、softies . . hehe 、messiest eaters eva . . x-x — 𝑹𝑼𝑩𝑰 : “ eeeek ! here is ‘anotha filler thirstie ( sad face ) am so sorrie i haven’t been able tew get my drafts in ! eeeek hope dis makes up for it . . hehe ( ´ - ` ) ! ”

“i’m not that experienced, baby . . . so don’t expect much.”

. . . such a liar he was. you knew your boyfriend was a liar . . . but you never knew he was this much of a liar! your lashes fluttered, mouth hung open at the feel of his wet tongue along your cunt. he peeled your clothes away, baring your body to him completely. the sight of you, naked and glistening with sweat, left him utterly breathless. he needed to see you writhe beneath him, to hear the sweet music of your passion. your boyfriend’s breath hitched, the temptation was almost too much for him to bear. his calloused hands reached up to take one of your breasts in his grip, giving it a gentle squeeze. a soft moan escaped your throat, your soft flesh filling his grasp. his other hand traveled up your waist, moving around to cup your other breast. his fingers teased your nipple, rubbing in a circle before flicking it lightly.

you could feel his gaze on you . . . his eyes darkened as he whispered against your breast, "let’s get your pussy all nice and wet." leaning forward, his lips planted smooth kisses along your midriff . . . trailing even lower than before. his tongue snaked out, swirling around your clothed pussy. “h—hey . . .” you murmured, the tips of your fingers digging against his scalp. he hiked your skirt up against your waist, revealing your ass to him completely, the lace of your panties was the only barrier between his mouth and the sweet nectar he craved. he slid his hand beneath the waistband of your undergarments . . . sliding the fabric down to your knees. “make sure to use your pretty mouth and tell me when to stop . . kay?” shit, he could feel himself growing hard at just the thought of getting his hands on your luscious body. “because . . i think i’ll be too focused on how much you taste to even stop myself.”

your boyfriend settles to his knees, his cock straining against his pants. he licks his lips, teasing the soft flesh of your pussy before diving in. his tongue darts inside, circling your clit once. twice. he moans, his voice muffled by your cunt. he’s loving every second already, feeling your warmth enveloping his tongue. the larger male slid two fingers inside, his thumb pressing against your bud . . . setting a steady rhythm, working them with skill. he’s tasting nothing but his beloved’s delicious flavor, and he’s enjoying every second of it. “you . . . ah!—said you were inexperienced . .” he gazed up at you, those sweet eyes of yours were going to send him to the moon . . while his were sharp; and serious . . . as if daring you to deny him, to tell him no more, to push him away. but he knows you wouldn’t want him to stop, no . . not one bit. "i am.” “th-then why—mmh! you’re a liar, a big fat liar !”

“mhm . . say whatever you want.“ he purrs, his voice filled with wanton desire and smugness. his wet muscle teased around your wet folds, tracing a path as he ate you out like a starved man . . the way he moved his tongue against you felt good, almost too good for someone who was “inexperienced”. blush covered your entire face . . indicating just how embarrassed you were. the way he licked and sucked at your cunt drove you crazy. your boyfriend gave you a soft hum, feeling your body react to the gentle touch, the muscles in your thighs clenching. “so sensitive," he whispered, his expression a mix of pride and amusement, a hand gently stroking the side of your face. "—yet such a good girl. you’re taking this quite well.” his lips curled up into a devious grin, the sight of his pretty girl being weakened by his ministrations was only fuelling his fire. he revelled in that power, enjoying the ability to make you quiver and squirm. "you still good, baby?" he asked, amused, his hands moving in tandem with his tongue. he hummed at your subtle nod, his fingers pinching your nipple from below with just the right amount of pressure to bring you to the edge but not send you over. just seeing your legs tremble so much . . . he already knew he was doing a good job, he could even feel the wetness coating his face, and he lapped it up hungrily, craving more.

"shit.." he cursed, though not out of frustration, “your pussy is driving me crazy." he whispered against your folds, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your entire body, it almost felt as if you were being electrocuted or something. “my darling girl with such a sweet pretty pussy . .” his tone was firm but filled with a promise of more pleasure to come; he wanted you to experience every inch of ecstasy he could give you. your boyfriend’s fingers slipped between your wet folds, desperate to get another reaction from you . . the constant sounds of slurping and sucking filled your ears, it almost felt wrong to listen to how well he was licking you up “such a liar . . . . hng. you were experienced all along!” his grin faltered for a moment as he heard the desperation in your voice, chuckling at your fucked-out expression. “you’ve got it all wrong,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’m only learning . . . i’ll get better, ‘promise.”

— CHOSO KAMO 、MICHAEL KAISER 、 RENSUKE KUNIGAMI 、reo mikage 、ARGENTI 、kamisato ayato 、MIYA ATSUMU 、SUNA RINTARŌ 、sunday 、RAFAYEL 、YUKICHI FUKUZAWA 、chuuya nakahara 、TAKUMA INO 、wriothesley 、JING YUAN 、 CHIGIRI HYOMA .

© 6GUMI 2024. modifying 、translating 、sharing my works on other platforms 、or considering them as yours is strictly prohibited.

[yowumi]

first time with mha men

featuring. izuku m. katsuki b. shoto t. denki k. fumikage t. eijiro k. touya t. hanta s. (aged up 18+)

summary. reader/mha men help lose his/your virginity (f! reader)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

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izuku midoriya

- it’s his first time, your experienced

- he leans more towards sub, but he can be a soft dom when needed to

- lets you guide him through it

- gets nervous and overstimulated quickly

- moaning mess, gets shy about it at first but you reassure him that you like it and he goes crazy with it, he mumbles, whines and whimpers a lot

- i feel like he would lean more on the girthy side and is average

- he can only hold out for so long so he cums quick but he has the stamina to hold out for 4 or 5 rounds

- gives the best aftercare, bathes with you, cuddles, snacks, anything you want.

“are you sure about this, izuku?” you ask wanting to make sure he’s comfortable. “mhm, please keep going” he says while he’s shaking, you can tell he can’t control it but he can’t help it, he’s never been touched by a woman before. you put your hands around his neck slowly moving them down to his shoulders where you held yourself up as you grinder against his dick, you both have been doing this for a while, feeling each others naked bodies rut against each other. “are you ready for me?” you whisper against his ear. he mumbles lowly while nodding his head, shutting his eyes waiting for it. you plop yourself down on his dick and you lost him. he starts shaking and hid in the crook of your neck as he whined, it all felt like so much. he’s never felt this good in his life, he thought to himself. he felt your tight pussy squeeze around you and he swears he sees stars, “f-fuck, it’s so much y/n…i don’t know if i can hold up much longer..” he mumbles, kissing you rapidly against your neck.

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katsuki bakugou

- it’s your first time, he’s experienced

- he can’t help his rough demeanor and is used to being aggressive so it takes a lot out of him to be gentle but he wants both of you to have a good experience

- he likes being in charge but he’s all about your pleasure, loves fingering you, loves having his tongue inside of you, loves doing anything that will make you feel good

- tries his best to reassure that he won’t hurt you, “i’ll go easy on ya’ don’t gotta worry babe” “i’m gonna take care of you sweet girl”

- grunts, groans, and every now and then he will moan and hear a slight whimper when he cums

- he will be submissive if you make it a challenge like saying “you probably wouldn’t be any good submissive anyways”

- girthy, veiny and a little above average, he’s a chunk of meat

- he’s a good cook so he will cook for you afterwards and watch you fall asleep as you watch a movie together.

he’s already made you cum twice from his fingers and tongue, he gets up licking your juices off your fingers as he leans in to give you kisses on your neck as he lays you on your back. being the only one naked, you start to softly tug and look down at his sweatpants where you can see his noticeable bulge begging to be freed. a small smirk appears on his face as he releases himself from his sweats, seeing his hard cock springing out. you blush at the sight and he teases you, “like what you see?” which only makes you try and hide your face. he presses his tip against your entrance, “you sure about this?” he asks pressing light kisses on your cheeks. you nod but that wasn’t enough for him, “nuh uh, wanna hear it from that pretty mouth of yours” he looks you in your eyes. “yes, want you to take my virginity kats” and he smiles as he enters you, causing both of you to tense up and moan. “fuck, sucking me in so much babe” he waits for you to become comfortable around his length before starting up his thrusts.

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shoto todoroki

- it’s both of your first time

- he doesn’t exactly have a preference, he doesn’t have a high sex drive so he’s okay with whatever you want, he doesn’t particularly know what to do but he trusts you with his body. once you guys get used to having sex more often, he gets comfortable initiating and taking charge.

- he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to make sounds, he’s never watched porn but when you hit certain spots, he will start breathing hard and if you listen closely you can hear a slight moan.

- before you two had sex, you had given him a blow job and the sensation of putting his cock inside your mouth was weird at first but eventually he got used to it and learned to like it as he would involuntarily buck his hips forward to get deeper in your mouth.

- his cock is a bit more on the skinny side but he’s long, longer than katsuki and izuku. with a bright pink tip and pale base.

- he falls asleep after sex, he isn’t aware of aftercare but you both just end up napping afterwards and he will wrap his arm around you in habit.

shotos eyes follow as you trail your fingers down his bare chest as he towers on top of you. his eyes moves down to your bare chest in front of him and you give him a light smile. “do you want to touch them shoto?” you ask and he turns his eyes back at you and a slight blush appeared on his face, “can i put my mouth on your breast?” he asks for permission as you nod petting his hair as he smiles before trailing kisses down your chest before grabbing one and sucking softly on the nipple as he plays with the other one. he doesn’t know what about sucking your tits fascinated him so much but he started to grind his hips down on your clothed panties. after a while of repeating this motion, he lifts his face up and asks, “i want to have sexual intercourse with you, if that’s okay”. you tell him that’s okay and he starts taking off your panties and pulling down his pants after. you grab his dick in your hand and put it in between the lips of your pussy, gliding the tip against your wetness and he starts breathing harder as he grinds his hips down against it, “i want you to put it inside me now” you tell him as you wrap your hands in his hair as he puts his head down to your neck and you press a soft kiss against his cheek. “okay. i’m putting it in now, i promise i’ll go slow”

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denki kaminari

- it’s both of your first times

- it’s chaotic. you both think you know what your doing, you both DO NOT.

- y’all both don’t have a preference, after a while of having sex more often you will both switch roles but the first time is just pure chaos, y’all are both too busy trying to figure it out than actually getting to that

- denki does all of the above, moans, groans, whines, whimpers, barks, you resist the urge to slap him from the childish remarks he makes (he is so brainrotted it isn’t even funny)

- “zoo wee mama, you’re bad as fuck ma” “denki please stop talking”

- his shit is girthy and average, not anything too special, he calls it his lightning rod

- he’s a baby after sex so he demands you do everything for him and baby him because he claims he did all the work like the alpha male he is (he didn’t do shit)

“fuck y/n this feels so good, you’re so tight” he says as he grunts against your neck leaving a small smack on your ass, “denki, that’s my thigh.” you say plainly as he stops and looks down laughing, “oh shit, my fault, i’ll put it in now!” he says leaving a quick kiss on your lips as he makes sure to guide his dick down to try and find your hole “oh i found it!” “that’s my ass denki, we aren’t quite there yet” you roll your eyes at him. he finally finds your pussy and enters himself in slowly, “oh shit this is so much better than your thigh, fuckkkk” he moans as he rolls his eyes back, you feel a shock inside you and let out a small yelp, “DENKI! control your goddamn quirk” you say slapping his arm and he laughs a little, “don’t slap me, i might do it again” he jokes as he kisses your neck. “YOU PERV!”

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eijiro kirishima

- it’s your first time, he’s experienced

- he’s a soft dom, he’s the sweetest in bed for sure, he’s very careful and considerate

- he’s pretty confident with himself and makes noise in bed but sometimes he likes to stay silent so he can listen closely to your moans and admire the way he’s making you feel

- “you’re beautiful y/n, can’t believe i have such a pretty girl”

- he is the BIGGEST, he has a monster dick, it’s huge, longer than any of the boys, he is PACKING, he’s girthy and veiny too.

- he can only cum about 1 or 2 times but he can hold out for a WHILE.

- he’s educated on sex and how to treat a woman from getting advice from his friends, online, he even asked aizawa for advice which only ended up with aizawa saying “just don’t be a dumbass and don’t ask denki for advice for godsake, can i nap in peace now?”

he takes out his dick from his boxers as you stare unashamed at the thing that’s gonna go inside you. you would be scared if it weren’t kirishima going inside you. he’s a sweet and nice boy so you’re sure he will be as gentle as possible. “i hope you aren’t disappointed, it’s okay if you don’t want to do it or anything” he says reassuring you thinking you’re staring at him because it isn’t enough (he’s so dick blind 💔) “no no, it’s perfect kirishima…you’re perfect” you smile as you kiss him. he starts and he puts lube on his dick so it will hopefully be a little easier on you as he slowly enters you as you moan around his chest. kissing and touching his sensitive chest as you play with his nipples and he moans. “i love when you do that, you know” he says burying his head in your neck as you hum against his ear, “i know baby”

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touya todoroki

- it’s his first time, your experienced (based this more on before he became ‘dabi’ in the sense of he is still living with his father and has a lot of anger build up)

- he’s either a MEAN dom or a BRATTY sub (he has a lot of daddy and mommy issues so it depends on the day type shit)

- when he’s mean he will grunt or straight up start laughing mid sex, when he’s bratty he whines and complains.

- “hey ain’t it supposed to be my first time, yet you’re the one acting like a bitch in heat” “atta girl, move that ass for me”

- he was a sexually frustrated teenager so he watched a lot of porn as he would abuse the shit out of his dick, he’s masterbated in front of you a few times and you’ve given him oral but he didn’t want to rush into sex, that was until the day his father didn’t show up and he was filled with anger coming home to you with anger and a hard cock

- has a breeding kink, wants to fill you up any chance he gets, loves seeing you covered in cum

- his cock is long, girthy and fat, his tip is always a redish color from how hard he gets and he has veins running up his shaft.

- uh what is aftercare?

touya walked through the door, eyes red probably from crying beforehand, “touya are you okay? what’s wrong?” you ask concerned from his quiet demeanor. usually he would’ve cried in your arms or angrily rant about what happened but he just stood at the door quietly before finally speaking. “strip.” he said bluntly staring at you in the dark room, “huh?” you asked again wondering if you heard right. “I said…” he walked closer towards you like you were his prey before continuing, “strip for me.” you felt yourself throb as you removed your clothes letting them fall to the floor as he picked you up and turned you on the couch, holding your legs up in a mating press as he removed his abused red cock from his pants, “you’re gonna let me breed you tonight, ain’t that right baby” he said more in a demanding tone than asking permission. you nod and he leaves a slap on your ass, “use your words.” and you moan, “yes touya, want you to breed me, want it so bad” and he lets out a cocky laugh, “yeah, that’s a good fucking girl” he says as he slides his cock into you without warning, thrusting hard as you squeeze around him.

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hanta sero

- your first time, he’s experienced

- he’s a soft dom, he isn’t too hard on you but he likes being in charge but he won’t mind you riding him once you get used to his cock.

- he’s a moaner, likes praising you

- “damn girl, you’ve been hiding this from me all this time?” “don’t get shy on me, i gotcha” “would never hurt my lady” “just a little longer ma”

- he knows you his so once you get used to his cock, he isn’t shy in letting the bakusquad try you out, he knows that you know who you belong to.

- he will massage you (he’s great with his hands) afterwards or help you bathe, he likes taking care of his girl

- he has a skinny cock but it’s LONG and damn does he know how to use it.

- he gives GOOD oral. he loves when you sit on his face.

“goddamn baby, you feel so good” he says as he has his cock stuffed in your hole while thrusting into you as he admires the way you moan for him. “sero, want more please, p-please” you moan out as he stares goes down to your nipple softly biting on your nipple enough for you to moan out and arch your back, “more of what, ma?” he asks as he sucks the skin of your breasts, “put it all in, don’t hold back p-please hanta” you whine as you pull his hair sending sero into a frenzy as he pulls out leaving you confused, “w-wha-“ your words cut off as he slams his cock inside of you fucking you deep as he hits your g spot, “that better baby?” he cockily asks against your ear, nibbling softly.

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[cherienymphe]

Camera Shy

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Your brother comes up with a way to make fast money when you've found yourself deep in debt.

warnings: stepcest, loss of virginity, breeding kink, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You took deep breaths through your nose as Rafe instructed, lashes fluttering at the foreign and indescribable feel of his cock sliding between your wet folds. Your knees touched your chest, the soles of your feet pressed against Rafe’s own chest, and when you looked up at him, you found his gaze focused on where he disappeared into you.

When your brother came up from Kildare County to visit you for the first time this semester…

This was not what you had in mind.

Blood related or not, Rafe had never been anything but the older brother you were blessed with when your mom married his dad all those years ago. He was a little rough around the edges—always had been—and you knew that his behavior with you was the exception, not the norm, but it never occurred to you that his reasoning behind that went beyond familial affection. Why would it?

He treated you like any normal brother would.

He scared off boys who were a little too bold with their interest in you, he sometimes let you sleep in his bed when the thunder outside got to be too much, and he didn’t think twice about picking you up from some party you weren’t supposed to be at. You knew he’d do the same for Wheezie if she asked. Sarah was the only exception for less than enviable reasons.

…maybe Ward’s favoritism of Sarah contributed to your own soft spot for Rafe.

Anyone with eyes could see it no matter how much Sarah liked to pretend otherwise, and there’d been so many times you felt sorry for the oldest Cameron. No, he wasn’t perfect by any means, and yes, sometimes he absolutely deserved the verbal lashing from Ward, but you’d be a fool to deny the absolute disregard Ward gave Rafe even when he did try.

Rafe just wasn’t anyone’s favorite.

…so he became yours.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blinked up at him, and his gaze lifted from your breasts to meet your gaze.

“Like this?” you breathlessly wondered, a hand on your chest, massaging a hardened bud between your fingers.

“Don’t ask me,” Rafe purred, his free hand joining yours. “Does it feel good?”

The nod you gave him was shaky, and you watched Rafe’s tongue dart between his lips. He dipped his hips a tad when he thrust into you, making you gasp at the feel of his cock hitting something inside of you that you didn’t know was there. When he shined the camera light in your face briefly, you turned your head.

“Sorry,” he choked out, but he didn’t sound all that sorry. “I’ll blur that out.”

His thrusts had your toes curling, and you pushed your feet against his chest.

“I don’t…I don’t want Ward or someone else to find this and know it was me,” you struggled to say, breath hitching when Rafe slammed into you.

Rafe replied after some time.

“Don’t worry, angel,” he whispered. “They won’t.”

Angel.

It was funny how a normal nickname that you were used to hearing all the time sounded so different, now. Of course, all the other times, Rafe had never been inside of you. He’d been dropping you off somewhere or convincing you to do the dishes instead or looking for you the minute he woke up at twelve in the afternoon. Now, with Rafe plunging his cock into you, the sound of it made you shudder.

“It’s kind of crazy how fitting that nickname is,” Sarah said one day. “…because I swear you’re the only one that can actually get Rafe to behave.”

You both chuckled at the comment, but now you were doing anything but laughing.

Your free hand trailed down to touch yourself, and Rafe made a noise of approval at the action.

His hand left your breast to cover yours between your legs, guiding your fingers and rubbing them over your bundle of nerves. The feeling—when combined with his thrusts—made you flutter around him, and Rafe let out a deep moan. It went straight to your stomach, loving the sound, and you looked up at him.

His gaze wasn’t on you anymore, and as you stared at him, you were surprised how weird you didn’t feel about this.

Going off to UNC had sparked varying reactions in your household. Rose was only happy for you, Wheezie too, but both Sarah and Ward held some concerns you never even knew they had. Something about your sheltered upbringing and wondering if you were ready. You’d been offended, of course. After all, going off to college had always been the plan and Ward knew that, so being treated like some child baffled you.

However, you were even more baffled when Rafe didn’t back you up.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked him the day you got your acceptance letter. “You don’t want me to go…?”

Even though Rafe was silent for a long time, you could see it on his face.

He didn’t want you to go.

“It’s so far-.”

“It’s four hours,” you’d interrupted, in disbelief that Rafe of all people was not on your side.

“It’s far enough.”

You remembered thinking how much he resembled a child—pouting—and you’d huffed. You hadn’t been able to stop the tears from kissing your eyes, and you’d folded your arms over your chest.

“Why aren’t you happy for me?” you’d asked in a small voice.

That had Rafe looking up, and you didn’t miss the way his face fell with one look at your own.

“I am,” he’d assured you. “I’m so happy for you, but… What if something goes wrong? What if some asshole gets too aggressive with you? I’m not going to be there to pick you up from parties and hold your hand when a hurricane comes through.”

You’d looked down, shifting on your feet.

“I know that, Rafe…but I’m an adult, now. I have to figure things out for myself.”

You could tell he hadn’t liked that answer, but despite how much Rafe made it clear that he didn’t want you to go, he did help you pack before the semester started. He’d also helped you move in with Ward and Rose’s help, surprising them both.

“Don’t think I won’t be dropping in unannounced.”

Rose had scolded him that day, but you’d only rolled your eyes. You were used to Rafe’s protectiveness, and as much as you desired independence, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the thought of Rafe visiting you on campus.

…and visit you, he did.

It was almost admirable, really, the way he managed to swoop in at some of the most inconvenient times. The night you were considering going to some party or the night you’d gotten locked out of your house or the time your roommate had guys over. The memory of that evening still weighed on your chest, recalling the way Rafe hovered and the way the guy you were supposed to be set up with was forced to keep his distance.

“You were scaring him,” you’d whined later that night.

“…and you want a guy that jumpy?” he’d snorted, taking off his shirt and relaxing on your bed.

Rafe had overstayed his welcome and had no choice but to stay the night. Granted, a hotel was always an option, but you would’ve felt shitty making him book a hotel when you had a perfectly fine queen-sized bed.

“If some chump is that intimidated by your big brother, then he isn’t the one for you,” he’d whispered in the dark as you faced him. “You’re the kind of girl who needs looking after.”

The words had soured in your mind, and you hadn’t responded.

You hated that Rafe saw you that way—that almost everyone did—but it was only some months later when you were forced to admit that maybe Rafe was right. Being so far away from home for an extended period of time for the first time in your life clearly got to your head. You found yourself confronted with so much temptation and opportunities.

Before you knew it, you’d maxed out two credit cards and was struggling to make ends meet with the extra money Ward and Rose were sending you. The day your payment was declined while in some fancy store was burned into your brain, and you hadn’t even realized how much debt you’d collected until you were on the phone with a representative from the company.

The whole situation sucked, but more than anything, it sucked that you proved everyone right.

Especially Rafe.

So, when he unexpectedly showed up on your doorstep this morning, you wanted to be sick.

“Rafe,” you’d breathed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The blond had silently stood at your door, expression unreadable, and it had taken him a minute to finally reply.

“You never know I’m coming,” he’d drawled, brushing by you. “What makes this time so different?”

“No reason,” you’d hurried to say.

You suspected then that he caught onto something being wrong, but you’d forced yourself to write it off. Despite engaging in conversation with you, you hadn’t missed the way Rafe strode about your place, those blue eyes of his taking everything in with an attention to detail you weren’t used to.

“So, why are you here?” you’d wondered.

Your question gave him pause, and you hadn’t missed the glint in his eyes then.

“What…?” he’d asked, nearing you. “I can’t drop in on my baby sister and see how she’s doing?”

He’d held your gaze with an intensity you weren’t used to, and you’d looked away.

“No, of course, you can. I was just…curious.”

You should’ve known that Rafe knew more than he let on when he opened your fridge and merely hummed at the lack of food in it. For obvious reasons, you didn’t protest when he suggested ordering food, and it was when you found yourself leaning against the counter with a handful of pizza did he finally drop the bomb.

“You’re lucky I pay more attention to the mail than they do.”

His biting words were accompanied with the slam of a few envelopes on the counter, and your heart dropped when you realized what they were—credit card statements. His hands on the counter caged you in, but you could hardly move anyway with how much shock you were in, flipping through them all with parted lips.

It didn’t take him long to start tearing into you.

“I knew this was a bad idea. I knew that at the very least, I should’ve moved up here with you,” he’d sneered.

“Are you going to tell Ward?” you’d tearfully asked him. “If he knew how much I messed up he’d cut me off so fast.”

“He probably should,” Rafe had told you with a frown, making your tears spill over.

He’d softened some at the sight of them, and you’d collapsed on the couch.

“I didn’t even realize I’d been spending so much,” you cried to him. “…and I keep trying to get a job to fix this but I just can’t get hired anywhere.”

At your rambling, Rafe had knelt before you, his hands on your knees as he shushed you. You’d struggled to hold his gaze as he wiped your face, trying to calm you down. When your breathing settled some, Rafe took your hand.

“I can’t imagine you behind somebody’s counter, anyway,” he’d softly said, thumb grazing your skin. “Breaking your back and coming home exhausted. You need to be focused on school.”

“…but Rafe-.”

His hand gently landing on your mouth had you swallowing your words, and you’d blinked at him as he traced patterns into your skin.

“Look, I know how to get you money—plenty of it and fast.”

His words had given you pause, making you perk up some.

“…but you’ll have to trust me,” he’d murmured.

You did trust Rafe, with your whole heart, but his next words still made your heart drop.

“Rafe…I don’t think I can do this,” you found yourself whispering an hour or so later, swallowing at his gentle grip on your throat. “

…besides, we… I mean…”

You didn’t have to finish voicing your thoughts, troubled gaze meeting his.

“It’s just a little way to make you fast money. It’s not like anyone will know it’s us…” he’d murmured, lips brushing yours. “…and it’s not like we’ll be running the risk of accidentally having questionable children or something.”

You knew what he meant, understood what he was getting at, but it still felt…wrong to you. Or at least, like it should be. Rafe had never been anything other than the brother you met years ago, and here he was, kissing you and convincing you to let your first time be with him…and on camera, no less.

“People love that amateur porn shit,” were his oh so eloquent words.

Despite how you initially felt about it, you still found yourself on your back and bent at the edge of your bed while Rafe stood before you, phone in hand. His words of encouragement filled your ears as he circled your clit with his thumb, the head of his cock slowly pushing into you. He’d had his face between your thighs for some time before that, telling you he needed to get you nice and ready for him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he’d hissed as he continued to push his way into you.

When he was flush with you, both of your chests heaving, he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“You okay, angel?”

It wasn’t as painful as you always expected it to be—you surmised that had more to do with Rafe than anything—but there was still a dull painful ache accompanied by the burn of being stretched out. At your shaky nod, Rafe merely gave you a half smile, leaning over to kiss you before straightening and starting a torturously slow pace.

“Do you hear how wet you are? Hmm?”

You could, and you might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the look on Rafe’s face.

“So wet…and tight…and all mine,” he breathed, the phone light bright as it shone on where you greedily sucked him in with every thrust. “She’s dripping for me.”

You felt like you were in a blissful daze, lying there and taking his thrusts. Rafe had a way with words and making you squirm from more than just the feel of him stuffing you full.

“They’d pay big money to see me fill you up, angel.”

You slowly blinked at him, frowning slightly and not understanding him at first. However, when his free hand left your clit alone and instead reached for himself, realization hit you.

“Rafe…”

Your tone held warning, but Rafe pulled out anyway, a hand on his cock as he leaned in to press his lips to yours again. What a strange way for you to realize that not only did you like kissing, but you liked kissing Rafe.

“It’s going to look so good on camera,” he purred. “Just thinking about my cock twitching as I come inside of you…pulling out and watching it all drip out of that virgin pussy…”

The thought did have you clenching down on air.

“It’s your first time… You should know what that feels like—to get fucked raw.”

Your lack of protest boldened Rafe, and you felt out of control when the tip of him touched you again, only without latex between you this time. He was slow to slide into you, a groan escaping him the same time you moaned as you both basked in the feel of his bare cock fitting snugly inside of you. You threw your head back, and Rafe told you to keep touching your breasts.

You couldn’t deny the difference as he slowly rutted into you. The camera shined light on your stomach and chest and back down again as he moved the phone. His now powerful thrusts turned you into a wanton mess, absentmindedly massaging your nipples in time with his hips. Rafe’s free hand was on you again, rubbing your mound and folds and clit, occasionally spreading you further to really get a good look at the way his cock pushed into you.

The squelch of your core was loud, and you could feel the way you were dripping around him.

Your bed squeaked under the weight of his thrusts, and the feel of skin against skin was sending you both spiraling.

“I’m gonna come,” Rafe gasped, his thrusts sloppy and rough as he fucked himself into you.

You felt the same, but you couldn’t really voice it, too focused on trying to breathe despite the fast pace of your heart. When Rafe pressed a hand into your stomach, it sent you over the edge, and the feel of you tightening around him and clenching down on him had him coming too, spilling into you with a loud moan.

Rafe’s thrusts were lazy now as he fucked you both through your orgasms, hips slow as he pushed into you. He only stopped when he softened completely, slow to pull his cock out and drop to his knees. His free hand reached for you, a thumb and index finger on your lips as he spread them.

“Look at that,” you heard him murmur while you fought to catch your breath. “You took me so well, angel.”

One of your feet relaxed on the floor, now while the other rested on his shoulder.

“Push it out for me. Show them how well you milked my cock…”

You didn’t quite understand him, but you did what you thought he wanted you to do. To your surprise, you could feel him leaking out of you, and the noise Rafe made told you he was satisfied.

“Good girl,” he purred, pushing two fingers into you. “You take me so well, you know that?”

He leaned in and kissed your sore lips then, a hum escaping him as he straightened. The camera was now off, and the phone was tossed to the side, but Rafe’s lips still found yours with a moan. Your confusion must have been evident when he pulled away, because he reached up to drag his thumb over your mouth.

“We’ll need to make time to practice if we want the next one to be even better.”