#And I have to brush my teeth using my finger-

[kateschi]

through the cold, with you

synopsis: amid the biting cold of patrol, katsuki finds his own way to keep you warm.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: was listening to a song and it went "i would burn my words to warm you up" and i want that kinda devotion tbh

the night air is sharp, biting at your skin as you walk through the quiet streets on patrol. the chill settles into your bones, making your fingers stiff and your nose go numb.

you pull your jacket tighter, but it feels like the cold is winning, no matter what you do.

beside you, katsuki strides ahead, his steps purposeful and his posture as commanding as ever. he doesn’t seem bothered by the weather at all.

you try to shake off the discomfort, but the cold is relentless, seeping through your clothes and making it harder to focus.

you force your steps to keep in line with his, but your movements are slower now. every breath feels like it could be your last.

he doesn’t even notice. or so you think.

another few minutes pass, and you feel your teeth start to chatter.

you glance over at katsuki, his fiery gaze locked straight ahead, his usual scowl firmly in place. h

e’s always been the type to push through anything—cold, pain, exhaustion—and now, it feels like the wind is just another enemy to him.

you, on the other hand, are starting to feel the weight of it all.

just as you’re about to speak up, to mention that you’re starting to freeze, katsuki stops walking without warning. his shoulders tense, and you can hear his breath cut through the air.

you blink in confusion as he turns to face you, his eyes narrowing slightly as they sweep over your figure, taking in the subtle signs of discomfort you hadn’t voiced aloud.

“you good?” he asks, voice still rough but softer than usual. his eyes linger on you for a moment, like he’s waiting for you to admit something, to ask for help.

but he doesn’t push.

you hesitate. he’s been protective of you since you first got together, but there’s a difference between that and actually asking for help.

you try to brush it off, giving him a small smile. “yeah, just a little cold. I’ll be fine.”

katsuki eyes you skeptically. “bullshit.”

you don’t have time to react before he steps toward you. before you even realize what’s happening, his hand is reaching for the collar of your coat.

his fingers brush against your skin as he unzips your jacket without a word, then pulls off the heavy scarf wrapped around his neck.

you open your mouth to protest, but before you can say anything, katsuki is already wrapping it around you, tightening it just enough to offer some protection against the cold.

you blink at him, confused. “katsuki, what—”

“shut up,” he mutters, cutting you off. he adjusts the scarf so it fits snugly around your neck, tucking the ends in carefully. “you’re freezing, and I’m not having you catch a cold.”

he steps back, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he assesses his work.

then, without another word, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a thermos—when the hell did he put that in? “here,” he says gruffly, holding it out toward you.

you take it from him, still caught in the bewilderment of what just happened. the warm liquid inside is a welcome relief to your frozen fingers as you take a sip.

katsuki watches you for a moment, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. it’s like he’s silently making sure you’re okay, his watchful eyes never leaving you.

“better?” he asks, his tone a bit soft. there’s something protective in his voice, the kind of thing you never used to hear from him. you take another sip of the drink, nodding.

“yeah, much better. thanks.”

he huffs, his lips twitching in that small, familiar smirk that only you get to see. “you better be, or I’ll drag you back home and shove you under a heater myself.”

you laugh, the sound warmer than it’s been in the last hour. his eyes soften for a second, and for a moment, you swear you catch a flicker of something affectionate in them before it’s gone.

it’s like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but there’s no mistaking the care he’s showing.

you glance up at him as the silence stretches, a little unsure of what to say next. but he’s already taking a step forward again, his body language a silent invitation for you to follow.

“come on,” he says, his voice commanding as ever. “let’s get this patrol over with.”

you start walking beside him again, feeling the warmth of the scarf wrap around your neck like a promise.

the cold is still there, but it’s manageable now. it’s bearable. and, somehow, his presence seems to push it away, too.

you can feel the heat from his side, the way his body radiates strength, and the knowledge that he’s always looking out for you, even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

as you walk beside him, you try to ignore the soft smile that’s tugging at the corners of your lips.

he might act like he doesn’t care much for these things—gestures of affection, quiet acts of love—but he shows it in his own way. and, in the end, that’s all that matters.

katsuki steps forward again, his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you into his chest with surprising force.

“stop shivering, damn it,” he mutters, the rough edge in his voice doing nothing to hide the concern underneath. his body heat surrounds you as he keeps you pressed close, his hand firm against your back.

you stiffen for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the sudden proximity, but his warmth is undeniable. your body relaxes against his, letting the heat from him seep into you.

there’s something comforting in the way he holds you, like he’s willing to bear all the cold, so you don’t have to.

you tilt your head up slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, which is softer than usual. his face is still serious, but you can see the care in his eyes, the way he’s watching you closely.

for a second, the two of you just stand there, his arms wrapped around you, your body pressed against his.

“and—uh you’re welcome,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

his gaze softens, just slightly, before he turns back and starts walking again, already heading toward the next stretch of their patrol.

a grin makes its way up your face, and it makes your husband blush furiously and press a firm kiss on the top of your head. he is trying to hide—you know that much.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[gibsongirlsundaymorning]

noise complaints (part 2)

A/N: Fine you gay people win. Here’s part two… sorry if it’s horrible, I am NOT a writer and I did NOT spellcheck this. Also I now realize she was technically going by Agnes at the time bc she was still under the spell when she was in her cop era… too lazy late to fix it ❤️

Summary: After Agatha finds you and Rio outside of the party she busted surrounded by two guys from your high school, she feels she has a few lessons to teach you two. (Reading part one is highly suggested!)

Warnings: smut, strap-on use, degradation and praise, vouyerism, impact play, fingering, oral, punishment, mean!Agatha, gunplay if you squint and spin three times, orgasm denial, bondage, masturbation, Rio being too bratty for her own good, use of “Y/N”, I don’t know if I can be more specific than this, it’s filth!

Pairing: Older!Cop!Dom!Agatha x Younger!Sub!R x Brat!Sub!Rio

NSFW below the cut MDNI!

After the cruel scolding that was sure to be only the beginning of the harsh words you and Rio would face that night, Agatha drags the two of you back to her patrol car by your wrists. You stumbled over your feet, trying your hardest to keep up with your furious girlfriend; Meanwhile Rio dragged her feet along reluctantly, trying desperately to keep up her careless, tough exterior and get a rise out of the cop.

Rio is thrown into the passenger side of the car, her hair nearly caught in the door as Agatha slams it, leading you towards the back door.

“At least one of my sluts is eager to please… Keep it up and maybe you can get what you want tonight.” She shouts the last part, addressing you, but directing the comment towards your brattier counterpart, who was now fidgeting in the front seat.

Agatha gets in the car, starting it up and taking off on the short ride back to your shared home. Rio’s placement in the front of the car was meant to keep her in check, keep her in Agatha’s direct line of vision and in close reach for reprimand. Rio had different ideas of how to use her forced proximity.

Your older girlfriend’s breathing had just reached some sort of equilibrium, no longer audibly seething through her breaths alone, when Rio reached over the console and slid her hand into Agatha’s lap. Much to your horror, Agatha just laughs.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, doll. You have five seconds to take your hand and keep it to yourself before I decide you’ll be sleeping in the guest room for the next week.” Rio, of course, waits until the very end of those five seconds before dragging her hand back across Agatha’s lap, making sure to brush her covered core ever-so-slightly before bringing it back to her side of the console to pout. You shudder under the reflection of Agatha’s hooded gaze in the rear view mirror as she grinds her teeth down against each other in a fiery frustration.

The silence and tension grows more and more palpable as the drive comes to an end when Agatha throws the cruiser into park at the top of your driveway, right next to Rio’s precious bike. She wasn’t exactly being careful to swerve away from it.

Before you could even think of reaching for your door handle, it was thrown open and you and Rio were being forced into the home. You were at the front, being pushed into the house by Agatha’s right hand, which was tangled in your hair and gripping it into a ponytail. Rio was being dragged in the back by Agatha’s tight grip on her ear. If you didn’t know better, you’d be giggling at the way the slightly taller girl resembled a misbehaving child being scolded by her upset mother. If Rio knew better, she wouldn’t have acted like a misbehaving child.

It was clearly too late for this when Agatha practically tossed you two into the house, all in the same manner as you’d seen her do with her bags after a long day at work. She ran her tongue between her top teeth and her top lip as she looked you and your girlfriend up and down, almost as if deciding between a library of options for how to deal with the two of you.

“Both of you, go to my room now and be ready for me in the next minute… Y/N, pick something pretty out from my drawer, would you, hun?” With that, she had decided.

As you and Rio made your way into your bedroom and Rio made her way to the edge of the bed, you slid the drawer open and instinctively grabbed your favorite from the assortment, a small and quiet but powerful bullet that Agatha could control from her phone. You were hoping she’d use it on you again, but there was no point in asking once she walked in, because it would almost surely earn you the exact opposite.

She walks in to find you sitting on your heels at the same spot at the edge of the bed where Rio sat, manspreading and fidgeting with the seam on her shirt. She takes the small purple toy from your hands and kisses the top of your head, a chillingly gentle gesture in contrast with her bubbling anger that night. Her hand slips from the side of your jaw to the underside of your chin, tilting your head up just a bit so that you were looking up and meeting her eyes with your own. “Such a good choice, sweet girl.”

She then turns to Rio, who hasn’t yet given up her false tough demeanor. “Kiss her. How you were before I walked in early tonight. Pretend I’m not even here, and God help you if you hold back even the slightest bit.” With that, she sat down in the large armchair directly in the eye line from where you sat.

Rio smiles slyly and slides her hands into the back of your head, tangling her digits in your hair as she meets your lips with her own. Your own hands, shaking, find her hips as she deepens the kiss and straddles you as you’re still sitting on your knees with rigid posture that reflects your nervousness outwardly. When you finally melt into her touch the slightest bit, losing yourself in her confident dominance, you hear Agatha stand and are suddenly enveloped in her shadow as Rio is yanking away from you.

Or rather, being yanked away. You note Agatha’s grip around Rio’s waves as she speaks in an even more gravely voice than usual, “That was your final chance to prove yourself as something more than a greedy bitch. Get in the chair.”

She swallows, devoid of any of the dominance from seconds prior, and climbs into the chair Agatha had just risen from. The latter takes Rio’s seat next to you, but lifts you onto her lap with your right leg slotted between her own, your center falling onto the top of her right thigh. Once you could see clearly again as the rush of her rough fingers around your waist simmered the smallest bit, you realized you were sitting on something… hard? and let out an involuntary whisper.

Agatha looks down at where your legs meet and then back at you, grinning like the devil, as Rio writhes in her seat. Agatha immediately clocks the movement from over your shoulder. “If you ever want me to make you come again, you’ll sit still and enjoy the show I’m so generously giving you after your disgusting displays tonight.” Rio reluctantly complies. She returns her attention to you, now digging her fingers into your hips with bruising force, and guides you ever-so-slightly back and forth against the pressure below you. “Agatha?” you breathe out.

“Yeah, angel?” The title almost makes you forget what was supposed to follow your initial words. The hardness below you reminds you quickly. “Are you… did you wear the strap to work?” you nearly whisper, the question barely audible to your other girlfriend, who sat still now and held onto every word from you and the woman below you uttered. “No, baby, try again.”

It seems as if all the blood in your body rushes to your face as you realize that what you were grinding down onto wasn’t the strap you’d been mercilessly filled with time after time, but her patrol weapon. It was mind-blowingly filthy and embarrassing to you, which brought both Agatha and Rio more pleasure than any other act the three of you had carried out together could. “Keep moving those pretty hips, hun. Don’t shy away from being a slut now, it’s a little too late for that.” You bit your lip hard enough to taste the same metallic tang from before you left the same room earlier that night as you hid your blushing face in the crook of the cop’s neck.

“Hey, come back, angel, I’ve got a question for you.” You look up reluctantly, dreading the eye contact you knew she would demand as you spoke. “Yes ma’am.” She chuckled lowly at this, “Oh, what, now you wanna be good for me? Nice try. What I was wondering…. was if you think our greedy girl over there should get to join us.” You look over your shoulder at the desperate woman, your eyes glossing over at the sight of her thighs pressed together so tightly they could surely suffocate you if your head found its way between them as it so often did. You turn back to Agatha and offer only a nod, not trusting your breath to stay loyal to you.

Agatha curled a finger, beckoning your girlfriend over and watching as she scrambled to the bed. “Now, Y/N, do you think I should use this” she held up the toy you’d previously picked out from her collection “on Rio here? Think it’d be fun to see her crumble under the stimulation and forget all about her little stone-cold act?” You nodded quicker than you knew possible. “No, I need words.” You swallow and breathe in shakily, hips still moving on their own accord. “Yes. Please, wanna see.” She just smiles and lifts you off of her leg as she readies her attention on the other girl.

“I think she has to earn it.”

Ok guys this was like… part 1.5, the first half of part 2 of the OG post. The rest of the warnings will apply to the next part if they weren’t in this one, and I’m hoping to have that one out like the middle of next week! LMK what yall wanna see in the next part beside what I have planned :)

Also for those who wanted to be tagged: @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @wandaslittlelove @babybeeelle @believe-in-magic13 @reeselov3salexvause @ahintofchaos @girlwithissuesworld @lovelyy-moonlight @teenybean @jorddddddddd

[mallowsweetmiri]

I am foaming at the mouth after Potter!Reader x Remus. Like I’m literally obsessed, perfect characterisation.

I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are, would you mind doing a part 2? Maybe more of them sneaking around or James finding out or something I don’t know.

Secret Potter!reader x Remus pt 2

Summary: Remus can’t stop thinking about you, you can't stop kissing him, and Theodore Pompous needs to hide from James

Warnings: smutty, mentions of consent, slight corruption kink

Word count: 3.5k

—————————————————————————

Remus woke up the next morning and sat up in his bed for a full minute thinking, what the fuck have I done? He had fucked his best friend's little sister, and the worst part was, he wanted to do it again. Remus rubbed over his eyes as he got up to use the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and tried to justify what had happened. It wasn't his fault that you teased him all weekend- with a surprising amount of stealth considering James was almost always around the two of you- and then made him feel your soaking panties when he tried to ask for your consent.

"Jesus fucking christ," Remus cursed, grabbing the sink and looking at himself in the mirror. He had to get a grip. By the time he had brushed his teeth, showered, and gotten dressed, it was lunch hours. Remus and the marauders strutted cheerfully down to the Great Hall, despite being at a party the night before. This was routine. Soon they'd be scarfing their faces with toast and sausage and sandwiches.

You had woken up a few minutes later and ended up walking to the Great Hall with Marlene and a few other girls. You were mildly hungover, though by this hour, you were ready to eat. When you walked through the doors, you spotted Remus immediately. He was already watching you as you walked towards the table, sitting down next to James as you did every morning.

"Mornin'," James greeted you, smiling through a mouthful of toast. You raised your brows and tried not to laugh for two reasons. James was staring at you like an idiot, and Remus was staring at your tits.

"Good morning," you laughed, hiding the smile on your lips. You started to fill your plate, intentionally looking away from Remus. He seemed to be nervous. Then you felt James fingers pull back your hair away from your neck.

"Y/N, do you have a hickey on your neck?" James sputtered, moving in closer to stare at it. Your eyes shot up to Remus who was currently looking away from you and your brother.

"So what," you scoffed, fussing his hand away. "You're the one who reminded me of my crush on Theodore. Now you're mad at me for it?"

Remus had to admit, you were a quick thinker. James' face turned a violent shade of red as he shot up to locate Theodore Pompous at the Ravenclaw table. When Remus met your eye, the two of you almost burst out laughing at James' reaction before you sprung up to grab his arm.

"James," you scolded, trying to stifle a laugh. "Seriously, stop. You can't just berate Theodore. That's so rude and there's no reason to." James shook his head at you with an incredulous look.

"No reason-"

"James," Marlene shouted, standing up as well. "Stop it. All of us are tired of you being such a dick to Y/N. You don't see her reacting like this when you have a bit of fun." The other girls murmured in agreement as James' eye twitched.

"Yes, but thats different-"

"Why?" Marlene raised her brow, "Because she's a girl?" The was a series of oooh's and cackles from Sirius and Peter before James begrudgingly sat down and passed a dirty glance your way. At least he was settled for now. James wouldn't continue to press you with Lily and the other girls at your defense.

Lunch went on and Remus came to the conclusion that he was utterly obsessed with you. He wondered if you were still teasing him or if it was just your body taunting him as his eyes kept finding their way to your chest. You had always been drop dead gorgeous. This was fucked. There was no way he’d be able to keep his eyes from wandering to you, and there was even less of a chance that he’d be able to go to whole week without fucking you at least once. He tried to feel bad about it, but that wasn't the case. He wanted you, and there really wasn't anything that was going to stop him from seeing you again.

Remus decided to approach this logically. If he wanted keep fucking you, he'd have to court you. He wouldn't mind that. You enjoyed literature, you were funny, and you were one of the most talented witches in the school. And you were his best friends brother, if he wanted to fuck you today, he'd have to do it in secret to avoid an interfering and angry James.

That's why when he found you studying alone in the library that afternoon, he took the opportunity.

"Hello," Remus cleared his throat, approaching your desk. "Mind if I join you?" Your eyes peered up from your papers momentarily, just enough to acknowledge his presence.

"Sure," you hummed, dipping your quill in the inkwell. "As long as you don't distract me from my work."

Remus huffed out a laugh and pulled a chair up to your table. Even sitting down, his frame towered over yours. You tried to continue writing, but the task felt futile as his knee rested just inches from yours. You sighed and put your quill down, turning to face Remus. His face wore a smile as he threw his hands up in defense.

"Hey, I wasn't even doing anything," he chuckled, watching as you rolled your eyes. A smile crept up to your lips.

"Yeah, yeah, Remus," you grumbled. "Did you want to talk about something?" He huffed out another laugh and you felt his breath on your face, the close proximity making your stomach do a flip. In the low lighting, he looked heavenly.

"Yea, actually. I did want to talk to you about something," his voice lowering as he leaned in. You narrowed your eyes at him as the smirk on his face stayed put. He thought he was hot shit and maybe he was right about that, but you wouldn't let him play with you.

"Hmm, and what would that be?" you asked innocently, looking up at him with your signature doe eyes. He scoffed out a laugh.

"Well, love. To be honest, I can't stop thinking about you," he purred, his arm slinging over the back of your chair as he leaned in even closer. You stifled the urge to press your legs together as his hand played with the hem of your t-shirt, rubbing it in between his fingers.

"Can't stop thinking about how good the sex was?" You teased, leaning in with a mischievous lip bite. This made Remus laugh and you blushed at his genuine smile.

"Straight to the point then," Remus chuckled, looking around the library. "Listen, I don't want to be disrespectful-"

"Okay, let me cut you off right there," you said sternly, pushing your finger into his chest. "If you're going to be scared of my brother, then this isn't going to work. I'm looking for someone who will fuck me and not hold back. If you can't do that, then we shouldn't do this." You finished, turning back to sit properly in your chair. Remus' hand stopped you by the shoulder.

"Love, if I cared about your brother right now I wouldn't be here telling you how badly I need to fuck you again," Remus whispered quickly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second. Your face flushed immediately as the want between your legs throbbed again.

"Oh," was all you could make out. His smirk annoyingly made another appearance as he chuckled lightly at you, again. His thumb rubbed over the cap of your shoulder as you looked at him with a permanent blush, your lips parted slightly. The smirk slowly faded off his face as he stared at you. He couldn't focus while you were looking at him like that. With that blush on your cheeks, and those plump, pink lips.

"So what's your plan then?" You said, snapping Remus out of his trance. He sat up straighter.

"Meet me in the prefect's bathroom at 9:30," he instructed, his hand moving off your shoulder as he stood up. You smirked up at him as he moved his chair back to the table next to yours.

"I'll be there," you replied, turning back to your notes.

"See you then," Remus smiled, leaving before he lost control and bent you over the table.

Later that night

You padded lightly through the hallways. Curfew wasn't for another 30 minutes, but you tried to stay quiet. Your body buzzed with excitement as you padded up the staircase to the fifth floor. It turned you on that Remus was using his prefect privileges to fuck you in private, and it turned you on even more knowing there was a giant bathtub in the middle of the room. You chuckled lightly to yourself as you came onto the floor, Remus leaning against the wall near the statue. His eyes found your hips as you approached him.

"Hi," you whispered, stepping softly towards him.

"Hi beautiful," he muttered, pushing off the wall to come towards you. You weren't expecting him to kiss you, so a gasp escaped you when he surged forward to press his lips against yours. He grabbed your cheeks to deepen the kiss hungrily. You moaned into him as your fists clasped the front of his shirt, his prefect badge moving with the fabric.

"We should go inside," you gasped, pulling away from his irresistible lips. He hummed in agreement, not quite looking at you. His hands were gripping tightly on your hips like they did the previous night, as if he could barely contain himself. It took a moment but Remus led you through the doors and into the bathroom, dimly lit from the moon and enchanted colored lights. You bit your lip as you watched the water run from the faucets and into the bath, filling the room with steam.

"Let's take this off," Remus purred, coming from behind to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh of relief as he sucked down on your sweet spot, his hands running under your shirt to lift it over your head. You happily obliged and felt Remus groan into your neck as he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You knew this would drive him crazy, and hearing him groan in your ear made you pool between your legs. He pulled your shirt off and spun you around, leaving no time before dipping down to kiss you again. You could hardly think as Remus wrapped his arms around your body, burying into the kiss like he didn't need air. It was mesmerizing, the way your body fit against his. The two of you kissed like that for a while, the steam eventually pooling over both of your skin. It took a few minutes for Remus to stop kissing you, humming multiple times into your mouth before he finally pulled away.

"Rem," you groaned, tugging on the buttons of his shirt to take it off. He was practically soaking through his shirt anyway.

"Let's get in the water."

The two of you stripped and sunk slowly into the bath, Remus' hands pulling you into his lap. When your backside made contact with him, you gasped. His length pressed against you and you were suddenly reminded of how he stretched you out last night. You were glad to be soaking in a hot bath. You barely had time for another thought when he connected his lips with your skin, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as he massaged your thighs.

"Fuck," you groaned as his hands came up to grasp your breast. He hummed in response and bit your earlobe, earning a roll from your hips. His fingers slipped down between your legs, teasing you gently.

"Y/N," Remus breathed, pausing his kissing and earning a hum from you in response. "I want to eat you out."

He didn't wait for your response as he lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the tub, dropping down to his knees and moving between your legs.

"Remus- oh," you moaned as his mouth connected with your clit. You instantly gripped his hair, your head thrown back in an intense wave of pleasure. Remus was making you feel good, and by the way he was groaning into your core and wrapping his hands around your waist, you were pretty sure he was enjoying himself too. You couldn't form words and ultimately found yourself on your back. Remus shifted up higher to kiss your clit deeper, his tongue licking and dipping into your core. His hands stayed put on your hips, his mouth working overtime to send you over the edge.

"Fuck, please Remus," you gasped, you legs locking over his shoulders and bucking up into his face. He only huffed in response as his hands snaked under your back, pulling you deeper into his mouth. You twitched in his grasp, an orgasm teetering as his tongue swiped over your clit.

"So close, Rem," you whine, gripping his curls tighter. Remus could feel you pulse under his tongue, and it took every ounce of control for him to pull away. "Wh-what?" you whine, immediately sitting up to see Remus. He sat there with his arms linked under your legs, his smirk covered in slick down to his chin.

"You want to come for me, Y/N?" Remus teased, leaving wet, open kisses on the inside of your thighs. You whined and he chuckled, looking up at you wickedly through his kisses. "Do you?" He prompted again, moving to the other leg. You groaned with desire.

"Yes, Remus. Please," you cried, tugging on his hair to come towards you again. He hummed out a chuckle into your skin.

"Tell me how badly you want it," Remus challenged you, moving his kisses closer to your center.

"Please, Remus. I want you so badly. I need you. So badly, Remus. Please," you whined, falling on your back and continuing to grasp at his head. You felt the vibrations of his chuckle next to your clit.

"Such a good girl," he mumbled, planting a kiss right onto you. You let out another guttural whine as he continued to tenderly lap at your clit and your entrance, slowly savoring your wetness. You felt your orgasm building once more, sending jolts through your body that increased in force with every movement of Remus' tongue. Your hips were bucking badly, and Remus tightened his grip on you to bury himself once again.

"I'm going to come," you gasped, barely lasting a second longer before spilling into his mouth. The intensity felt doubled this time, and Remus ate you up graciously. You were almost embarrassed by how hard your orgasm had hit you, but Remus didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was moaning into your core as he finished you up.

"You taste so fucking good," Remus groaned as he climbed over you, his tip pressing against your entrance and slipping in momentarily through the slick. You gasped and felt yourself clench around him, still sensitive from his mouth. Remus' hand found the back of your head as he pushed himself into you fully. You gasped and whined simultaneously, digging your nails into his biceps. "Fuck, Y/N. You feel even better." He began to move in and out of you at a torturous pace, his tip burying deep within you. Just when you thought he had bottomed out, he bucked into you with force and moved even deeper inside of you. You let out an unprompted noise which seemed to please Remus as he started pounding into you, forcing noises out of you that were uncontrollable.

"F-fuck, R-remus," you said, your words bouncing with the pace of his thrusts. It was unrelenting, but you were so soft from his mouth that you started to near another orgasm. Your fate was sealed when his thumb came down to find your clit, the pressure of his cock adding to the pleasure immediately.

"So pretty, Y/N," Remus moaned, dipping to press a kiss to your lips. You hungrily returned it, the two of you moaning into each other's mouths as Remus' thrust slowed and deepened. "So. Fucking. Beautiful." He pounded into you, clenching his jaw as he fucked the life out of you. You were tightening, and tightening, and tightening until the coil in your stomach snapped and a rush of release pulsed through your walls. Remus groaned loudly as you felt him collapse into you, his thrusts deep and followed by spurts of warmth inside of you. He thrusted into you lazily, kissing you and rubbing your hips with his thumbs. Like much of the night, the two of you stayed kissing unhurriedly like this. It was only when someone knocked on the door that the two of you moved from your position.

"Thank Merlin you locked the door," you muttered, pulling on your pants after casting a dryer spell over you.

"Heh, I actually didn't. It's just common practice after prefect rounds," Remus laughed sheepishly. "It must be the end of the next shift." Your eyes widened at this as the two of you finished pulling on your clothes and drying off perspectively. You kept close to Remus' back as the two of you moved to leave the bathroom. You heard Remus say something to the other prefect but you didn't look up as you followed Remus out. He ushered you towards the staircase and muttered in your ear, "That was Theodore Pompous." You stifled a laugh as the two of you climbed the stairs. Remus was grinning at the coincidence and teasing you about your old crush. The two of you laughed and blushed and talked quite comfortably next to one another as you neared the Gryffindor tower.

"Do you think anyone will be in the common room?" you asked, lowering your voice and letting go of his hand. Remus shrugged and walked behind you, guiding you to the portrait hole.

"I don't think so. There's an early quidditch practice tomorrow and it's already past curfew," he muttered, giving the fat lady the password and climbing through to the common room. Remus' face hardened when he saw James sitting on the couch, his head turned towards them. He stood up when he saw you enter behind Remus.

"Y/N, what were you doing out past curfew? I was worried. I waited up for you," James frowned at you, his eyes filled with genuine concern. You felt your face flush red, realizing why you were out late. You might as well have been wearing a sign that said we just fucked. Thankfully Remus was exceptionally good at drying charms. 

"I found her sneaking around Ravenclaw Tower," Remus said with a nonchalant nod of the head. "Thought I'd bring her back." 

"Wasn't your shift done thirty minutes ago?" James questioned, stepping closer to Remus who showed no signs of embarrassment or concern.

"Yes, but I told Theodore I'd take his shift in exchange for him doing mine on Sirius' birthday," Remus shrugged. Your mouth formed a straight line as you looked at him. Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? James looked at Remus incredulously.

"Why would you trade shifts with him," James hissed, narrowing his eyes towards him. You started to walk towards your dorm.

"Well, I'm back," you dismissed James with a yawn. "Goodnight, Jamie." James huffed and stepped in front of you, grabbing your hands.

"Y/N, you know I love and respect you," he stared, causing you to roll your eyes by instinct. "But I just want you to be safe. Don't stay out late for some prat who you've hardly even talked to before." You sighed as he looked at you with those James Potter eyes that reminded you of home.

"I know. I'm sorry I worried you," you apologized, looking sympathetically to him. "I'm gonna go to sleep now. Okay?" James let out a sigh of relief as he gave you a hug.

"Goodnight," James called as you went up the stairs.

"Goodnight," you called back, sending Remus a wave. Remus waved subtly back to you before sighing and rubbing his eyes. He hated lying to James, and he hated even more how much he felt like he was corrupting his best friend's little sister. He knew it wasn't true though. You had shown him how badly you wanted him, how much of a slut you were for him... Fuck. Remus wanted you for himself and he wanted you for a long time. He made a vow to ask you out by the end of the week, and to do it with James' blessing.

"Sorry I got a little heated, Moony," James said, turning to face Remus. "I just can't stand the thought of her alone with some random git. Thanks for bringing her back." Remus hummed and nodded.

"It's no problem."

The two of them went up to their dorm and crashed respectively onto their beds. Sirius and Peter were already asleep. Remus laid awake again thinking about you. He thought about your face when you came, and the way you blushed when he teased you. He fell asleep dreaming of you during the summertimes when you would read outside with him and woke up the next morning with a plan. 

[gilverrwrites]

Pervy Dick touching Tim’s friend for the first time and just slowly striping another layer of your clothes each time you finish. Dick absolutely loving how fucking shy you are about how dirty you’re being, cheeks growing warmer each time he opens your legs a little wider…

The real question is: does Tim ever begin to suspect anything?

━ [Post in reference] Warnings: Manipulation, Virgin!Reader.

OOOOhhhhhhhh, him just loving the sound of your meek little voice, shaken by pleasure and punctuated by little whines and moans as he fucks his fingers in and out of your needy pussy in slow, calculated movements. He can’t resist whispering teasing questions in your ear between nipping at your neck, and sucking on your collar, just to coax more out of you.

“You like that, don’t you?” His teeth sink in a little harder when all you do is nod, and his cock throbs at the little squeak that escapes your lips. “C’mon, baby girl. Use your words for me.”

“Yes!” You cry, scrunching your eyes shut as if to hide your shame, but your walls tighten around him. You’re fucking loving it, and he knows it. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” He rewards you by brushing your already swollen clit, his breath hot on your face as he leans up to get a better look at you. “What do you like about it?”

“C’mon baby, Tim likes dirty talk, you gotta practice.” He keeps encouraging when you fail to answer. It’s a big fat lie, probably. Dick has little to no idea what Tim is into in bed. “Tell me what you like so I can keep doing it.”

“I don’t know.” You winge. He’s awful. Getting off on how naïve you are. He’s pumping your pussy so good that you can’t get your thoughts straight, can’t put your wants into words. “Just feels good, so good. I feel so full, Dick!”

The use of his name almost makes him snap, makes him want to rip your panties off and bury his cock so deep inside that tight little hole. Then you'll feel full, so fucking full on this thick cock, overflowing with his his load as he ruts it deep into you. But he doesn’t want to push you too far too fast.

At his prolonged silence, you peek through your heavy lids, so perfect, so eager for his approval and he can’t help swooping down to capture your mouth with his own.

“You say my name so pretty, baby.” He coos against your lips. “Say it again.”

And dear god, one piece of clothing per orgasm is insane. Just imagine, by the time he gets you down to your panties they’re well and truly ruined. A bit like you.

The elastics all stretched out by his hand, the crotch too from where he’d held them to the side while he’d eaten you out like he was on death row, and you were his last meal. Not to mention they’re absolutely drenched, having soaked up every last drop from your weeping cunt. All your slick and cum, all of Dick’s excess spit.

He wonders how easy it would be to sneak them out of your place in his pocket later.

As for Tim, of course he’d catch on eventually. He’s supposedly the world’s second greatest detective after all, but he’s so into you that he’s a little blind to it at first. Sure, he thinks it’s strange that you’re spending so much time with his brother, even when he’s not around. That Dick is so frequently visiting from Blüdhaven, and seemingly only to see you, but he just pegs it down to the two of you having such a great, platonic connection. He’s happy that you get on with his family, and that Dick has found a friend outside of vigilantism.

But then he notices how frequently the two of you text, from first thing in the morning, right into the late hours of the night. Previously you’d been pretty relaxed about letting him pick it up for you when your hands are full, or just generally letting him look, but recently you’re becoming more and more cagey about it, always tilting your screen away or getting panicky when he offers to check your messages for you. He convinces himself it’s nothing though. Sure, when he asks, you almost always tell him you’re texting Dick, but that doesn’t mean you’re not also texting other people. The two of you aren’t exclusive, you’re not even technically dating, so you could be chatting to other guys, and he hates the idea of it but it’s your prerogative. He doesn’t make the link that the suspected other guy and Dick might be the same person, because unconsciously he doesn’t want to.

But the red flag really starts waving when you arrive at his place one morning for breakfast. You're kind of a mess. Your hair is unkempt, there are dark circles under your eye, and you’re wearing a very familiar, dark blue hoodie.

“You good? You look…” He racks his brain for the right word. You’re still cute but he doesn’t want to come on too strong, nor too harsh. “Rough.”

“Me? Yeah, just couldn’t sleep last night, and then when I did, I overslept and basically had to run over here.” You’re lying, he knows your tells but he doesn’t call you out on it. You’ll talk to him when and if you’re ready.

“Is that Dick’s hoodie?”

“Um, yeah. We hung out last night, it was cold, so he let me borrow it.” It’s the truth, but it rolls off your tongue nervously, and it doesn’t sit right with him.

20 minutes later you’re sitting in a diner, ordering your usual, chatting with the waitress. Your head is turned to face her at just the right angle for Tim to spot the reddish-purple mark peeking out from the collar of Dick’s hoodie. A love bite that certainly had not been there when you’d sent him a Snapchat selfie yesterday afternoon. He’d know, he’d studied every inch of that photo; the way the light hit your eye, the smile on your soft lips, how the vest top you’d been wearing exposed your unmarred shoulders and neck.

“Did you say you only hung out with Dick last night?” He asks when it’s just the two of you again.

“Uh, yeah.” You look at him quizzically.

“Just Dick? Nobody else at all?”

“Nope, just Dick, me, and Cary Elwes’ Robin Hood.” The truth again. “Why?”

Things rapidly start making sense. There was a time when Dick had to lodge himself between the two of you just to join in your conversations, but recently it’s like you’ve been glued to him. Anytime Tim makes a dirty joke, or pays you a compliment, instead of looking away all sheepishly like you used to, your eyes now flitter over to his brother. You always smell like his aftershave, and just last week he’d picked up the undeniable stench of sex on you after Dick had dropped you off for a coffee date. He was pretty sure he spotted one of Dick’s shirts peeking out from under your bed the other day, but now he’s certain.

“No reason.” He mutters. Hurt that you’d been sneaking around with his brother and lying to his face about it. Furious at Dick for sleeping with you when he knew damn well that you were his, or at least that you would be one day. He’s annoyed at himself for not figuring it out sooner.

And just under that storm of anger and disbelief, there’s a tiny little spark. A competitive, possessive notion tapping incessantly at the back of his brain that wants to win you back and rub in Dick’s face.  

[darlingdaisyfarm]

👁️⃤ evil!Ford x reader

author note: okay im sorry for post spamming but this idea been sitting in my mind for too long and I had to write smth about it, would be glad to read your opinion on that Ford x reader dynamic!^^

so this is a bit of an au situation where evil!Ford is working with Bill now. in this version, reader is Ford’s former ex partner, someone who used to be close enough to him to know his work better than anyone else, including the equation Bill wanted from Ford in canon. Although here Ford doesn’t know the equation anymore, but you do

You’re trapped.

The chair beneath you creaks when you try to move, your wrists aching from the coldness of the handcuffs that keep your hands pinned behind your back. Your breathing is shallow from fighting, your throat feels dry from screaming, but you keep your head high. Defiance in your eyes, even as Stanford’s gaze burns holes through you.

He sits across from you with his legs spread wide and his elbows resting on his thighs, watching you. You squint, noticing a little glow of that infernal symbol on his wrist. Bill’s mark, his new goddamn religion. 

“You’re only making this harder for yourself, darling.”

You don’t answer, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Ford leans back in his chair, tilting his head as his eyes drag slowly over you. “Still playing the martyr, i see,” he drawls, unable to hold sarcastic laugh. “you always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“Oh, but, sweetheart,” he says, standing now. “you don’t get it, do you? you can’t win this.”

“You think you’re protecting them,” Stanford continues. “Stanley, the twins. You think they’ll thank you for this? For your stubbornness?”

“You won’t touch them.” you answer through clenched teeth. 

Ford crosses the room in a few strides, towering over you now and it feels like his shadow is swallowing you whole. His hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing your face upward to look at him and you don’t recognise him, instead of your Ford, it’s a shadow of a man who’s sold his soul, body and mind, to something far worse than the nightmares you’re used to. Ford digs his fingers into your skin.

“Just tell me the equation, that’s all i want. you give me what i need, and this—” his eyes flick down to the cuffs, to the bruises blooming on your wrists, “—this ends.”

“Go to hell.”

His grip only tightens, and his jaw clenches. For a moment, you think he might snap, might lose that careful control he prides himself on. But to your surprise, he lets out a low, bitter laugh, releasing your chin and pacing a step away.

“Always so stubborn, it’s admirable, in a way. Stupid as fuck, but admirable. But we both know i can make you talk.”

Before you can react, his hand is in your hair, yanking your head back sharply. You gasp, your neck arching painfully as his face appears damn close you feel his breath against your lips. God, this is not how you imagined kissing Ford. Not after he joined Bill Cipher.

“What’s with that fear in your pretty eyes? I won’t bite, not unless you ask.” 

“Fuck. . . you,” you say again, but the words sound weaker this time and you hate the fact that even after Ford Pines isn’t the man you remember, you still feel attached to him.

Noticing your hesitation, Stanford’s lips curl into a smirk, and then he’s kissing you, if you can even call it that. Ford is forceful, rough, demanding, his kiss is nothing gentle, his other hand grips your jaw to keep you in place he takes what he wants, biting your lips, his tongue sweeping into your mouth and he groans when you make a pathetic muffled sound.

When he pulls back, your lips are swollen and you swear you can taste the metal, your skin burns from how hard he squeezed it.

“I can do this all night,” Ford trails his long fingers down the side of your neck, brushing the pulse that races beneath your skin. “You’ll give in eventually. . . they always do.”

“I hate you.” but you don’t believe your own words.

That truly makes Ford laugh, the way you say it so dead serious, with that cute glare when you both know it’s not like that. 

“Hate me?” he repeats in mockery, as if the very idea is absurd. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your head back to force your eyes to meet his. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, sweetheart?”

You glare up at him, biting down on the words that threaten to spill from your mouth.

“Funny. That’s not what my muse showed me. Not in your little head, darling.” he talks, savouring every word, enjoying your reaction as you already have panic written all over your face. “let me tell you, in there, you’re begging for it, desperate for me to fuck you.”

Your heart slams against your ribs and the air seems to vanish from your lungs. 

“All those filthy little thoughts you try so hard to hide. I had no idea my ex-lab partner was such a slut?”

You feel mad and humiliated at same time, your face burns, but you clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart, we both know exactly where it’s gonna get you.”

[joosthead]

agora hills || j.k. f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ But today—10th of November, Joost’s 27th birthday and 8 degrees celsius in Amsterdam, you shouldn’t have brought a jacket. 

₊˚⊹⋆ happy (late) birthday <3. part of normal au (previous parts here). set joost's birthday 2024 <3

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader (she/her pronouns used). notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 7.3k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw(s): smut (established relationship, light exhibitionism, semi-public sex, remote control vibrator, slight aggu x reader, slight mention of m!receiving vibrator/assplay because i’m crazy, unprotected piv, creampie, customary joost fic drinking and smoking), normal au sappiness LETS GOOO

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “agora hills” by doja cat, “pressure” by martin garrix ft. tove lo, “shu madame” by ski aggu, “heaven” by mitski (literal direct quote from this song LOL) 

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: vibrator ! au of an au where skiklein isn’t divorced 🩷 lowkey this is a bit normal au worldbuilding heavy! as always thank you to @howisjoostfanfictionforfree <333 my creative partner in crime !! not edited oops

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

You shouldn’t have brought a jacket. 

At least, you shouldn’t have let Joost place his around your shoulders on the way here—it’s his birthday, shouldn’t he be the one being taken care of? Either way, you’re holding his hand as he navigates you to the booth your friends are already at, tugging at the collar as you brush past so many people, an endless supply of warmth cloaking you from all sides. 

This would be fine any other November day in the Netherlands, so cold you contemplate moving somewhere warmer every year if not for your very proudly Dutch boyfriend keeping you here. 

But today—10th of November, Joost’s 27th birthday and 8 degrees celsius in Amsterdam, you shouldn’t have brought a jacket. 

You teeter on high heels; Christian Louboutin So Kates that Joost bought you a while ago and loves, your legs are weak, not at the thin stilettos, but at the dull pulsing between your legs of the remote control egg vibrator nestled securely between them. You two brought it home one day from the sex shop nearest your house, bright pink and surprisingly high tech, an app used to control it through Bluetooth. Even on the lowest setting, it’s strong and steady, and you’re really trying to keep it together as it pushes against your g-spot with every step forward.

Joost pulls you next to him by the hand and puts his arm around you. “You are doing so amazing, mijn schat,” he says, kissing your temple as you squeeze in between people together, and you nod. 

“I better be.” 

“Much better than I did.”  

The policy is always this: you will never try something he wouldn’t try himself first. It’s only fair, considering the multitudes of ideas he has about things you two should try in (and out) of the bedroom. 

His turn: you lubing up your fingers and fingering him open, him slipping the vibrator inside himself, you impishly giggling about the app controls and how pretty it all looked when you knew he’d be destroyed in a matter of moments.  

It was only a week ago—taking a walk in the park near your house at 3 AM together so no one would see you, your hand and your phone in your coat pocket going from low to high, low to high as he gritted his teeth and walked alongside you. You set it the highest vibration pattern it could go—a minute later, he was collapsed on the ground. “Is he alright?” a passerby asked you, eyes alarmed at your sweet boyfriend lying face down and practically convulsing. 

“Yeah, he’s alright. Just weird,” you said, and you two shared a nod and they went along with their day. By the time you trudged back home, getting Joost to the edge and turning it off completely so he wouldn’t get any satisfaction, he was practically begging to be inside you. 

It’s your turn now, but you didn’t exactly expect it to be on the first club outing of the night of his birthday. You’d given Joost his presents earlier today—some boudoir photoshoot pictures you had done months ago, Christian Louboutin boots he’s wearing tonight, a belt buckle of the copyright symbol you found thrifting, some gacha capsules and trinkets you got in secret on your trip to Japan together, a long handwritten letter (5 pages!) waxing poetic about your small and beautiful life with him that he cried at when he read it over the breakfast you brought him this morning. 

There are more presents to be given later today, all planned and gift wrapped, but this one—all indulgence, no planning, no stipulations about how far he can go and when it’ll end for you. Joost asked you if you could do it when you were getting dressed together before this. Pretty black lingerie he got you on a trip to Paris, a dress he surprised you with from some big fashion house, helping you slip on the shoes he so kindly bought you when he asked you on his knees—”Please, schat, can I use it on you tonight?” and you couldn't resist that look on his face, those big blue eyes. 

“Very proud of you, mijn schat,” Joost yells over the music as you near your table. Everyone’s too distracted already to acknowledge you or your strangeness—Tantu and Joost dap each other up, but Ruby is off somewhere else; Appie and Alanis and Stuntje are doing a drinking game they’re very focused on; Aggu (Aggu???) and Marina (Aggu and Marina???) are talking with each other very intently, his arm on the back of the booth behind her. “Do you think you can get us some drinks?” 

You look back up at him, eyes wide. “By myself?” 

“It’s my birthday, baby. I wanna sit down.”

Rolling your eyes, you let him slip into the booth and turn away, annoyed and feeling faint already. The vibrator feels bigger than it looks, pulses harder than it already is; the pattern is periodic like an alarm clock. Once you're halfway to the bar, you look back to Joost and he’s on his phone and torturing you manually—you want to yell, want to scream. In agony, or pleasure? 

There’s so many people at the bar—so many of them you recognize from weekends upon weekends and term breaks after the other partying with Joost and your friends. Some of them you know better than others; Mia and Femke who do Joost’s makeup from time to time; Luuk (Luuk???) from work; Thijs and Enzo and Myron and Brunzyn and Donnie and Donny and oh, this is going to be really bad, isn’t it?

You bob and duck your head—hopefully no one recognizes you as you try and reach an empty stretch of bar where you can hold onto as the vibrations get stronger and stronger. The DJ tonight is playing Buurman Uit Berlijn and you’re unsure if it’s the thrumming bass of the song or the thing stuck inside you that’s dizzying and all-consuming. As you reach out for the bar, you close your eyes and focus.

The mass of dancing and yelling bodies behind and next to you, the pink and purple strobe lights flashing all around, your boyfriend’s music loud and blaring through the speakers, these beautiful torture devices of heels, the sweat sheen on the back of your neck, the matching wetness between your thighs as the high intensity vibration subsides and turns more mellow. 

Joost has finally given you reprieve. 

In waiting for the bartender to get to you, you feel like you’re looking over your shoulder like a madman every second, scared of looking suspicious, but scared of making eye contact with any of the people you know. You stand pin straight, scared of moving it any further, scared of pressing it into your spot. From your right, you hear your name and wince, preparing for some acquaintance or worse—one of Joost’s close friends that you’ve said hi to once but don’t know very well past that.

Turning—it’s just Ruby, and you breathe a sigh of relief once she bounds up to you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug as if you and her haven’t spent the last week together upon her return with Tantu. 

She pulls away from you and you give her a small smile, realizing that the pulses have subsided completely, and you can let your guard down for a moment. 

The smile you give her must not be very convincing—“You look like you're about to be sick, my darling,” Ruby says, placing the back of her hand on your forehead to test out your temperature. She’s going to be disappointed when she finds out the real reason you’re feeling hot. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly, shaking your head. The only person you’re trying to convince at this point is yourself. “Don’t worry, I—“You open your mouth to speak, but the toy just—Joost is so mean to you. So, so mean, because he’s turned it up more, seconds long stretches of it pulsing hard and fast and then nothing, over and over again. Does he have a clear view of this from the booth? Does he just know? All you can get out is a little sigh, hopefully one she wasn’t able to hear over the loud music and all the talking. You close your lips and try to shake it off. 

“Cat got your tongue?” she giggles, then yells to the bartender who you didn’t even know came over, “Two Bacardi colas, thank you!” 

“Thank you, I appre—” you close your eyes as the vibrations become incessant, punching against every part of you. You can imagine Joost’s face back at the table, grinning, pupils dilated and hungry for how embarrassingly wet you are between the legs. “Ruby. For reasons. For reasons I cannot say, I have to pause speaking. I’m going to hold onto you for balance. Please do not say anything about this to anyone,” you say as you drop your head, trying to hide your face from her as you let out a groan. 

Even without seeing her reaction, you’re sure Ruby knows what’s up—you shared a wall for almost four years until she moved to Berlin after graduating, and you’ve heard your fair share of each other’s activities. When you pop back up, gritting your teeth in a grimace that’s supposed to be a smile, Ruby’s giving you a look of surprise and then she rolls her eyes. 

“I can't believe you two, you're disgusting!” she laughs, throwing her head back and giving your arm a squeeze. “You’re both freaks, I guess you were made for each other. Anyways—“ 

Ruby goes into a long tangent about the new apartment she’s about to move into next to her work building in Berlin, how she hopes the album will finally just drop soon so Tantu can stop fussing over the finishing touches, how she really thinks you probably should get back to the table because you’re white-knuckling the sticky bar and it’s concerning her—she’s trying to give you an out by talking to you normally, but you're really unable to get with the program. 

The bartender comes back to you with the two drinks and Ruby hands them to you—”Do you want me to help?” No, you shake your head, because you’re trying to prove yourself to someone, you’re not sure if that’s you or Joost. “Good luck, babe.” 

You teeter back with two Bacardi colas in hand and a calmer vibration keeping you intact for your journey back; if you spilled these drinks all over yourself, you’d have some very choice words for Joost later, and his birthday would be spoiled. But as you near the table (not without Myron trying to wave you over, and you throwing an apologetic look and a raise of your glasses her way, Mia making eye contact with you but you pretending not to notice), you find your stride, and can actually seem to walk without hunching into yourself to hide. Maybe this won’t be bad after all. 

Tantu’s seemed to join in on the drinking game with the others, Aggu and Marina watching them as you place down the Bacos in front of Joost. “Thank you, mijn hart,” he says looking up at you and pursing his lips for a kiss which you give him. Bending over is a terribly bad idea, you find out, the angle of the vibrator adjusting to your new position, and it hits you head on—you open your eyes and glare at him, and he gives you a big smile, kissing you on the cheek. 

It sours your expression even more when you see how close these quarters are, how Tantu and Appie are practically squished together as Stuntje and Marina have a chugging contest, how even with Ruby still at the bar, there isn’t any room for you. 

“There’s nowhere to sit, you can sit on my lap.”

“I can see that,” you mumble, taking off your jacket and giving it to Joost before perching on his lap, his left thigh underneath your ass and the bottom of the table above your legs. 

“Having fun, baby?” Joost says into your neck, the grin on his mouth evident as you sit back on him. 

“Having the worst time, Joosti.”

“Aw, why is that? It’s my birthday, it’s the second best day of the year—what’s not to love?”

“The demonic object you’ve placed inside of me, that’s what’s not to love.” 

You haven’t even gotten the chance to talk to everyone or even say hi—the night’s not about you but they’re still your friends. After the drinking games are over, you’ll have to face them, and they’ll talk to you, and your guilt will be all over your face and you’ll never be able to show yourself at this club ever again. 

You pick a piece of glitter off his cheek, brush some off the thick black rim of his glasses—he’s wearing that jacket he got a while back, the one he wore at Jere’s gig all adorned with pink fabric and women dominating men and “BRAT” over its leopard print background. This jacket exemplifies him perfectly, and you knew that when you recommended it for him to buy. 

“Don’t worry, schat, I told them you were tired from work. They won’t bother you.” 

“It wouldn’t be a bother if you just turned it off.”

“That is no fun, isn't it? I think you should have thought about that in the park last week if you wanted me to be nice.” Joost’s hands run along your sides, snake to your front, splay out on your stomach as he hugs you closer, his chin on your shoulder. “I wouldn’t embarrass you, lieverd,” he says softly, and your nerves are soothed. He kisses your neck and automatically, you roll it to give him more space to kiss, to nip at your skin. “You can trust me.” 

Everyone’s so distracted—what do you even have to worry about? Your group lets out a collective shout, whoops and claps at Marina beating Stuntje decisively even though she looks positively disgusted at the taste of the beers she emptied. Tonight is good—no one is paying attention to you; Joost is absentmindedly mouthing at your pulse point, at your jaw, the stupid vibrator and the terrible app forgotten, apparently. 

You sling your arm around his neck and he brings you closer.“ You haven’t even touched your drink, Joost,” you say, cupping his cheek as he kisses yours, trailing his lips against it until he reaches your own and kisses you deeply, fingers squeezing your thigh as his hand inches up. 

“The drinks can wait.” 

“Can you? We’re in public, remember?” 

“They probably won’t even remember tonight, what’s it matter?” 

From behind you, Aggu’s deep voice in German, the small vocabulary you know from Ruby: “I feel left out, mausi,” said amused, said with Joost’s hand almost between your legs. 

A nickname you gained from your short time on the Friesenjung set, the few interactions you had with August, as he introduced himself. 

You’d never felt intimidated by anyone Joost’s introduced you to—you weren’t even intimidated by Joost when you first met at this very club. You weren’t intimidated by the Dutch celebrities he’d introduced you to; not the Slavs or the Swedes; not Otto, even when he’d treated you and Joost to a Michelin starred dinner and told stories about his decades in the industry. 

Your appearance was a surprise to no one except for Joost—you told him you had work and couldn’t be there for him on the first day of filming. When you showed up, hiding behind your friends you knew on set, you’d made the mistake of not hiding well enough; in the middle of a scene, he spotted you behind someone’s shoulder, entire face lighting up and so happy, he dropped what he was doing and sped to you, hugging you and picking you up off the ground.

“Joost!” you scolded, laughing as he kissed you on the cheeks. “Please, there’s so many people around.” 

“I thought you said you had work?!” Joost said, kissing you again as the people around you dispersed, the scene they were filming fully interrupted now. 

“I wanted to be here for you, it’s a big day.”

His scene partner and someone you’d (sort of) talked to over Facetime when Joost would call him to talk about the song sauntered over, and Joost pulled away from you, keeping his hand around your waist. “This is Aggu, lieverd, and Aggu, this is—“ he gave him your name, “my baby,” “love of my life,” “the busiest person on the planet,” “mein schatz, or whatever you guys say here,” attached to the end of it, and you nodded. 

“That’s me,” you say softly to the other blonde mulleted man now entering your life. You held out your hand to shake and then regretted your decision remembering that it was 2023–who shakes hands in 2023?

Nonetheless, Aggu shook yours. Big hand but a gentle handshake, eyes intense but soft at the same time. You could barely meet them and it seemed like both Joost and August knew. “Wie eine maus,” he said, and you could use enough context clues to figure out what he said about you. “I’m August.”

There was something different about August—Aggu. Even if he was just as rambunctious as your boyfriend, he was quieter than he looked. This aloof, masculine energy seemed to just exude off of him without him having to announce any of it. Half of his face was covered most of the time you saw him, but you already knew he had reason to be so confident. 

As with most interesting things in your life—meeting him on your own happened out on a curb outside of the actual party. Later that day, there was a scene filmed at a corner store, and it turned into a party that went into night, 50 people crammed into the tiny establishment. You took a smoke break while Joost went to the bathroom, and there Aggu was, right behind you, right next to you. 

“You know, you’re very cute,” he said, and you practically sputtered out your drink, practically dropped your cigarette on the ground. 

“I’m Joost’s girlfriend,” you informed though you were sure he knew, and he nodded. 

“I know. He never stops talking about you.”

“Do you care?” 

Aggu laughed, and you smiled at the ground. “I do.” You offered your cigarette, and he shook his head. “Just surprised, you are so different from him.” 

“We’re surprised sometimes, too.” 

Aggu turned to you and you shared a look. You dropped the stub on the ground, the music spilling over and out of the corner store. Wind rustled your hair, and still, he was gazing at you. 

“Baby,” Joost called from behind you, and he was next to you in an instant. 

“I was just talking to Aggu—“

“August,” he corrected. “August,” you repeated softly, and you felt like…like something was being interrupted, but you weren’t even sure what. 

“Bye, mausi,” Aggu said, leaving you and Joost.

The entire exchange was strange—still couldn’t speak firmer or louder than this, couldn’t even look him in the eye in front of Joost. Joost poked fun at you for being so shy—“What’s the matter, baby? He doesn’t bite.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe that.” 

Tonight, Aggu isn’t wearing the goggles—he’s a handsome man with or without them, but you prefer the look without him, getting to see his full face. 

“Why don’t you talk to Aggu, mausi?” Joost snickers and you roll your eyes. 

“You don’t look like you do PDA,” Aggu says, and your cheeks burn. You were never the type to before Joost, but now here you are with a remote-control vibrator inside and his lips on your jaw as you try to speak with his friend. 

“I don’t?” You ask, knowing full well you don’t. 

Joost cups you over your tits, and you almost gasp—He’s normally not so handsy, even if you two are the worst perpetrators of public affection in your group by far. 

“Joost,” you say softly, shaking your head and moving his hand down even though it’s strangely—it’s strangely arousing having him claim you so decisively in front of Aggu. 

“He doesn’t care,” Joost says, but keeps his hand where it is, right under the curve of your breast. 

“I don't care,” Aggu confirms, and you roll your eyes as Joost kisses behind your ear. “Are you two going to do anything for Joost’s birthday?” 

“We’re—Joost, let me talk to him,” you giggle as Joost nips at your neck. “We’re going to Portofino after Joost goes to Berlin.” 

“No invitation for me?” Aggu teases and you roll your eyes, smiling. “It was my birthday a few days ago too, you know?” 

“You’d have to ask Joost for one, I don't make the rules.” 

Joost pauses his lips on you to turn to Aggu and says a simple and decisive, “No,” then turns back to your bitten neck, your jaw. You’re half sure he’s doing this for his own pleasure—it feels like you’re being pecked at by an annoying, albeit very cute and enthusiastic bird. 

“I would take you if I could, Aggu,” you joke, and Aggu gives you a surprised look. Finally, Joost lets off of you, and you can finally turn to your conversation partner fully and give him some attention. 

“Braves mädchen, do you think your boyfriend won’t mind?”

“He likes you—he won’t.” Under you, Joost starts tapping his toe—nothing to distract him now, you guess, his leg moving under you. 

“Nahhh, he’s the jealous type, no? At least when it comes to you.”

You laugh until you don’t—until you widen your eyes, dropping your mouth open and furrowing your eyebrows because wave after wave after wave of pure pleasure hits your g-spot, the vibrations so strong they go through the tail and reach your clit, and you have to stifle a moan by covering your mouth with your hand. You turn back to see Joost on his phone—still restlessly tapping his foot, moving the vibrator even more inside of you. 

“Are you alright, mausi?” 

“She’s alright, just weird,” Joost snickers from behind, using your words from the past against you. 

“I’m-I’m just fine, Aggu,” you say as you clench your thighs together and give him a thin smile, looking back at Joost who’s trying to hide his face from you, thumb still moving on his phone screen. 

“You look—“ 

“I just—oh my god,” you sigh out, clenching your fist as you involuntarily rock back onto Joost and his jostling knee under you, the vibrator being turned up all the way and turning your brain into mush as it kisses your g-spot. You can’t even begin to care about what this looks like, or the fact that Aggu is watching you and your face contorted in pleasure, as much as you’re trying to control yourself. 

“Ah,” Aggu says. 

Just from the look of amused disbelief on his face, the way his eyes flit down at your hands in your lap desperately trying to cover your thighs though there’s nothing to cover up, at least to the eye—you’ve been caught. 

“Joost, what is that?” he says, then leans behind you so Joost can show him the app, the wavelengths on the screen sure to be high frequency. Aggu moves his hand behind you—is he really letting Aggu control it right now? Judging from his movements and the changing patterns of your 

Aggu daps Joost up, then gives you a sly smile and a pat on the cheek. “Don't worry, schatzi, I will keep your secret.”

He looks around at your friends; Ruby and Tantu lazing on the very end, Stuntje and Appie and Alanis and Marina having a heated discussion about something you can’t hear over the music, over the exchange happening between the men on either side of you. 

“Come on, Joost. You’re being mean to her,” Aggu says as Joost brings his arms back around your waist, placing you more on his crotch than his legs. His phone is in his hands (as usual), but this time, he’s got the app wide open. 

The vibrations are at the very top of the little control area, and you can feel it as you drop your head again, concealing your face completely so you can revel in the pleasure without anyone watching. 

Does Joost feel it right now, as you grind back on his lap without even meaning to? Through his jeans, he’s hard, and you can feel it clearly on your ass. 

“She can take it.” 

“Can you?” Aggu asks, turning to you, and you nod almost automatically, even as your thighs start tensing with the lead up to an orgasm. “Whatever you say, schatz.” 

Enough of him—you shift so you're turned away, mostly facing the crowd, mostly facing Joost. You drape your arms around his neck, face scrunching up, mouth dropping open as the vibrations pulse hard and fast so deep inside you. 

“Feel good?” Joost says, and you nod, trying to keep it together even as that knot ties in your stomach. He watches your face intently, pupils blown out and his hand rubbing circles on your back as you hold back a sob. The song over the speakers is Normalje Bass, the bass booming through your body inside-out. You hope and pray none of your friends are watching—you know Aggu is, even if your face is hidden from him. 

“I’m cumming,” you say as quietly as you can, lips parting with your quiet sighs as the waves of your orgasm start, so intense from all of the internal stimulation. 

“I know,” Joost soothes. “Just kiss me.” 

You moan into his mouth, pushing against him so he can muffle your sounds; you know that even if you were louder than this, the music would just drown you out, but his lips on yours, his hands on your body—they relax you. Joost moves his big hand to the nape of your neck, licking into your mouth. 

He tastes like cigarette smoke, smells like his heady cologne, nose bumping against yours. You gasp into his mouth as the vibrations continue, whining as it takes you past your point, your legs shaking with the comedown of your climax but the continued overstimulation inside of you. 

“Zo vies, holy shit guys,” Marina yells over the music so you can hear, fake gagging, which earns you a chorus of more fake gagging from the rest, clapping from Ruby and Tantu. 

“It’s my birthday—ik mag doen wat ik wil.” Joost laughs, waving them off. At the same time, he takes out his phone and turns off the vibrator completely, and every muscle in your body relaxes, the waves subsiding. 

Joost gives a chaste kiss to your lips, your cheek as you try and catch your breath as subtly as possible. “You did so good, lieverd.” 

You nod, giving him his own kiss on his cheek for letting up on the toy. “Let’s go to the bathroom,” you breathe, and he grins. 

“You don’t need a break—”

“Nope. Let’s go.”

Standing, you get off his lap and pull at the hem of your dress as you wait for Joost to get up. Your legs are still a bit shaky, the heels not helping at all, but you're too excited to go. 

“Leaving so soon?” Marina pouts, her head on Alanis’ shoulder and big eyes shining at you. You almost want to stay, but—you want Joost inside of you more. 

“They’ll be back,” Ruby teases, rolling her eyes at you both. Cheeks burning as you smile, you shake your head. 

“Maybe,” you say, it’s Joost—this is only the beginning of the night. 

Joost gets up from the booth, his hand on the small of your back immediately and guiding you away. Before you can go, Aggu holds his hand out to your boyfriend—“You’re a lucky man. Can I come?” Aggu grins, winking at you. 

“Fuck no, man,” he says, dapping him up, and you laugh as Joost takes your hand and pulls you along with him through the sea of people all dancing and drinking to his music, all of the friends you and him have made over the years. You give quick hellos to everyone you know, saying sorry and you’ll talk to them later—you’re half sure everyone knows where you’re headed, but you can't seem to care tonight. 

You and Joost are almost to the staircase, not without making several stops to have people wish him gefeliciteerd, hugs for both of you, promises to catch up later, there’s just something you both need to do. The first step on it, a raspy voice yells behind you, “Joostttt!!!” and you look to see Donnie, long hair in French braids and expensive jewelry all along his wrists as he pulls you in for a hug that you reciprocate. “Mijn meisje, how are you doing?” 

“I’m good, Donnie, how are you?” 

“Good, good, celebrating your boy,” he yells, reaching behind you to dap Joost up, the excitement at seeing each other heavy on their raspy laughs as Joost hugs him.

Your boy doesn't think you understand Dutch as well as you do, even after 5 years of him giving you impromptu Juolingo (as he calls them) lessons and even longer living here—“Don’t go to the bathroom for the next 20 minutes, man, alright?” he says to Donnie in the language, and you roll your eyes at his boldness.

“20 minuten? Christ, man, jullie zijn allebei verdomd gek,” he laughs in disbelief. 

“Het duurt 10 minuten, Donnie, maak je geen zorgen!” you yell back as Joost keeps pulling you up the stairs, and Donnie cackles as you leave him behind. 

There are several bathrooms downstairs, but the one you’re headed to is upstairs and down a hallway and another, so far away from the action it’s no wonder no one uses it—your favorite bathroom to use for…activities, seldom used yet still seedy as hell, the old fluorescents warm and flickering, the mirrors cracked and grimy. The sinks and the stalls are always relatively clean though; whether it’s from the lack of use or the club owners actually upkeep it, you don’t know and don’t care as you step into the middle of the three stalls, you and Joost’s favorite one. 

Even if you know that there’s no one in here, the drip of the leaky faucets echoing against walls and not other people, Joost still bends down and checks under and between the stall gaps for you before squeezing into the tight stall with you, locking it. 

Joost takes you by the arms and turns you around so you won't have to touch the slightly gross toilet at any part. “Finally alone,” he breathes, taking your face in his hands and giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose, which you laugh at. 

“What’s that for?” you say as Joost kisses both of your cheeks, then your lips three times in quick succession. 

“I missed you!”

“I sat on your lap the entire time.” 

“You weren’t facing me—I missed you!” 

You pinch his cheek and smile—how lucky you are to spend his birthday together. It wasn’t always like this; whether it was the constant cat-and-mouse game you both played in the beginning of your relationship or your job and school or his abundance of creative projects, every birthday over Facetime and belated celebration makes you love Joost and this even more.  

“You look very sappy,” Joost says, hands on your hips as you brush his bangs back then cup his face.

“I am sappy,” you say softly, and he laughs and kisses you. 

“We don't have time to be sappy—you said 10 minutes to Donnie, didn’t you? Mean, by the way.” Joost takes your hand and kisses your wrist, the silver chrome pendant of his initial dangling from the chain link bracelet he bought you last anniversary. “But I am sappy too, I hope you know.” 

He pretends to chomp on your hand before pulling you in for another kiss. “I’m so happy you're with me.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “Best birthday ever.” Kiss. 

Last year was the best birthday ever, too—you're just glad it only gets better. “I love you too.” Joost squeezes you tight and you groan once he squeezes you too tight, laughing once he lets go. 

“Sorry, I just love you.” 

“I know,” you say, patting Joost on the chest then running your hands down to his new copyright belt buckle, undoing it. He’s so obviously hard, it’s laughable thinking about how he walked through a crowd greeting his friends with a big tent in his jeans. 

You mouth at his neck, saying a quiet, “Hi Lola,” which he laughs at as you kiss along the side, sucking on the skin just slightly—he marks so easily and you've both already made it so obvious what you’re doing at his own birthday celebration. 

Reaching into his pants, you wrap your hand around his shaft and give him a few lazy pumps, the head already leaking precum. Joost smiles into your kiss—such a great birthday present for him. You suck his lower lip into your mouth momentarily, then come back together again, one hand lightly squeezing over the column of his neck, and his dick twitches in your hand in response. 

“Every time,” he whispers, shaking his head at his own arousal giving him away. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “That's why I do it.” 

You give him a few more jerks before turning around to face the other way. 

There are so many Joost doodles from your years together at this club, adding onto the muddled canvas on top of the stripping paint. Your favorite doodle inside your favorite stall is one you have to look up at. A heart around your name + JOOST in thick black Sharpie on the stall door in a little gap between all the graffiti, the dick drawings…the “Ruby was here ♡” in swirly cursive around eye level. Huh. Interesting. You never noticed that one before. 

“Hehe. Us!” Joost says, pointing with his finger at your names together like he didn’t write it there around a year ago. 

“Us,” you say, touching it with your finger. 

There isn’t much time for you to focus on it when Joost snakes his arms around you, one hand reaching into the cups of your dress to knead your tits, and the other reaching under it so he can rub you over your panties. 

“I almost forgot the thing was still inside you,” he murmurs, tugging at the tail of it gently, which makes you sigh out in pleasure. “My new favorite toy, but let me take it out.”

Placing your hands on the stall door, you bend over a little, which is really, about as much as you can bend with how tiny this space is. A few moments pass and you look back to see Joost kneeling on the ground—“Are you…seriously on your phone right now?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Sorry,” Joost says, squeezing your thigh. “I just have an idea.” 

“Okay,” you say, shimmying your thong down with your fingers and letting it fall to your ankles. You lift up the back half of your dress, exposing your ass.

Finally, Joost places his fingers on the back of your thigh, tugs it using his thumb and forefinger again. Slowly, he pulls it out of you and the impossibly wet sound of it, Joost’s eyes so intent on you, makes your cheeks burn fire. You clench around air—it feels so empty now. 

Joost bites your ass cheek, and to your surprise, licks a strip up your slit, which makes you have to hold onto the stall. You turn to look and he's giving you an exaggerated pout. “Can I eat you out?” he asks earnestly, big blue eyes pleading with you and you shake your head no. 

“What does it look like ditching your own celebration for so long? When we get home you can do it.” 

“Fine,” Joost grumbles, getting back up. You watch as he pumps his cock a few times, spreading the precum down his shaft. He swipes the head through your slit, dipping the tip inside of you a few times,  “My god, you’re so wet, schat,” he says, and you can feel it, the smooth and frictionless glide of him through you, “This is crazy.”

“Stop fucking teasing, oh my god,” you sigh, and as you say it, Joost still teases you, the tiniest little thrusts with your pussy enveloping only the head of his cock. 

“Bossy,” he mumbles, and then you hear the familiar loud vibration of the pink toy in his hand. You look at him with wide eyes and he shrugs. “We can use it while we do this.” 

“Mmm…okay,” you say, turning back around and getting ready for him to enter you again. Joost wraps his arms around you again, one holding the toy to your mound and sending the vibrations through your body again, the other cupping your tits from below. 

Slowly, Joost thrusts inside of you, the wet slide of his cock inching inside of you making you shudder. Once he bottoms out, his hips snug against your ass, he whispers into the side of your face, “Ik hou van je,” and you nod, eyes closed in intense pleasure at how big he feels, the pulsing vibrations on your clit. 

Joost pulls you back onto him by the hip, thrusting forward at the same time so they punch against your g-spot even harder. The moans just tumble out of his mouth, strangling out your name, various curses, his pace steady but unforgiving to you in the throes of your arousal. In this position, he’s so big, and you’re so wet, and the vibrator is so strong—you could collapse. 

“So good, baby,” Joost breathes out against your shoulder, and you turn your head to kiss him. He does, but at the same time pressing the toy even harder against your bud, making you sob out his name, clenching around him. “Taking me so well, baby, so good.” 

Your shared moans and breaths bounce off the tile walls, the clack of your heels as you adjust your stance to get him deeper inside of you, Joost’s raspy voice in your ear and his teeth in your neck. The sound of your pussy around him fucking into you incessantly—you should be ashamed at how filthy it sounds, but you aren’t, and you know Joost isn’t either. 

Joost slows down his hips, and you whine at the stalled pace—“Mijn schat, can I see you?” Joost asks, breathless as he slides out of you with that sound again that’s music to your ears, and you turn to face him, wetness smearing your thighs. The vibrations subside completely again, and Joost takes the vibrator off of you. 

“I want to see you, too,” you say, leaning up to kiss him. “But how are we gonna do that?” 

“You’ll just have to trust me.” 

“That isn’t hard to do.” 

Reaching down, he squeezes your thigh, lifting it up and you help hike it up for him. The palm of his hand is under your bent knee, and you look back up at him to tilt your head and give him a confused face.  

“Did you see this in like, a video or something?” you laugh, especially looking down at the absurdity of it all; crammed in the smallest bathroom stall known to man, crotches together, teetering on a high heel while your boyfriend holds up your leg for you. 

“Being away from you so often,” he says, hiking your leg up further and making you yelp and laugh as you almost fall. “It means I get lots of ideas about how I want you.” 

Joost wraps your arms around his shoulders, his neck so you can have better balance—the heels make you perfectly in line with his cock and you both look down and watch as he uses his free hand and his hips to guide his cock into you slowly, parting your folds as it disappears inside of you. Your lips part, brows knit together at the feeling so perfect that you sob out once he bottoms out so deeply in you. 

The sounds are so filthy when Joost starts thrusting, you might actually be ashamed of it for once; the hollow clap of his hips against your pelvis echoing against the dingy walls, the wet slide of his cock in and out and in and out of you—every moan out of your mouth is one you couldn’t dream of holding back, mewling into his jacket shoulder, clinging onto him and leopard print fabric tightly as he fucks into you, tight hand around your hip sliding him into you over and over again. 

Usually you’re the one calling the shots around here, Joost hanging onto your every word as your sweet and loving life partner, but he’s got you in his palm, your hands clawing at the back of his jacket, gripping onto the long hair at the nape of his neck, your heavy breaths and choked out moans as you sob his name out. 

“I’m close, schatje,” Joost breathes into your ear, his big hands kneading your ass as he thrusts, arms wrapped tight so he can keep your leg up for you with how much control you’ve lost over yourself at how amazing he feels inside of you. You nod, not really caring at all, close to the edge yourself and your hips tired from the position—it’s his birthday. He deserves this and more. 

“I love you,” you breathe, resting your cheek on his shoulder and closing your eyes as your orgasm starts, the waves coming through you as you tighten and clench around his cock. You're so stretched open, it’s mind blowing for you, and Joost tells you such, babbling about how tight you feel, how good you are for him as you release hard and fast around him, muffling your sounds with his mouth. 

This stall is so stuffy—sweat on sweat and when you open your eyes, Joost gazes at you, eyes half-lidded as he places your forehead against yours, thrusts firmly as his face contorts in pleasure, as the heat rises between you two, skin slapping on skin, all of your love filling all of the room. 

“I love you, schat, I love you,” he says, kissing you as he groans out into your mouth, painting your walls white, warm and full as he gives you the final hard and stuttering few thrusts, fucking every last drop of his cum into you. 

Joost licks into your mouth, spit on your chins as he softens inside of you, breathy moans coming out of him at the overstimulation of your movements. Now that you’ve both stilled, the setting his come back to you—the drippy faucet, the music bumping through the walls sounding like muffled nonsense though you know it’s Joost’s, the stall door cold against your back and the cum already leaking out of you around his cock. 

“Joost, can you let go of my leg, please?” you say quietly, eyes closed as you catch your breath, both of you somehow lean against the stall door now, him panting into your neck, your leg around his hip. 

“Oopsie,” Joost says, giving you a kiss on your neck before placing your leg on the floor gently and straightening up; he pulls the cups of your dress up so they’re covering your chest again, pulls the hem of it down your thigh so you aren’t so exposed. You can feel it drip down your inner thighs as he reaches down and brings your panties back up—Joost is so sweet. You’ll never get used to it.

“Happy birthday to me,” he sings, laughing as he presses a kiss to your lips and you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in. 

“Happy birthday to you.” 

i so appreciate all of your guys' patience with me when it comes to my writing and i hope you enjoyed!! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) askbox anon on hereeee - juno

[anakinstwinklebunny]

TW: i have no idea what happened 🧍‍♀️ I'll try to use less vulgar words in next works - I know for some it may be uncomfortable and honestly I don't feel right with myself while doing it too

JAMES KELLY’s hands, stained with grease and calloused from years of hard work, gripped your hips with a force that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was rough, unapologetic, but the way his thumbs pressed small, possessive circles into your skin had you melting. “Look at you,” he rasped, his voice rough like gravel, thick with unfiltered desire. “You’ve been teasin’ me all fuckin’ day, haven’t you?”

Perched on the hood of his car, you could feel the cool metal against your thighs as his heat pressed into you, consuming every bit of space. His dark eyes raked over you, lingering on the way your dress rode high, exposing more than you’d usually dare. And Maker, the way he looked at you—it wasn’t just hunger; it was starvation.

“I didn’t—” you started, but he silenced you with a smirk, leaning closer until his lips brushed against your ear.

“Didn’t what? Didn’t mean to drive me fuckin’ crazy?” he growled, his stubble grazing your neck as his teeth nipped at your skin. “Bullshit, baby. You knew exactly what you were doin’.”

His lips were on you in an instant, crashing against yours with a heat so intense it left you gasping. The kiss was messy, desperate—his tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming every inch like it was his right. And still, wasn’t it? The taste of him, mixed with the faint hint of smoke and engine oil, had your head spinning.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath came in hot, ragged bursts. “Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice low, almost a snarl. “You make me lose my fuckin’ mind.”

His hands slid lower, pushing up the hem of your dress until it bunched around your hips. The low, filthy whistle that escaped him when he realized you weren’t wearing panties sent a flush straight to your cheeks.

“No fuckin’ way,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “You walked in here like this? Just waitin’ for me to take you apart?”

“James,” you breathed, squirming under his gaze, but he wasn’t having it.

“Quiet” he said, but his tone wasn’t harsh—it was raw, dripping with everything he was holding. His fingers teased between your thighs, dragging through your slick folds as his dark eyes locked onto yours. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby. Did you get like this just thinkin’ about me? Thinkin’ about my cock?”

Your breath hitched as he slid one thick finger inside you, curling it just right before pulling out and tracing slow, torturous circles around your clit. “Answer me,” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands clutching his arms as he worked you with an expertise that had you seeing stars.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his free hand gripping your thigh, spreading you open wider. “You wanna know what I’ve been thinkin’ about all damn day?”

You nodded, too breathless to form words, and his smirk widened.

“This,” he said, sliding another finger into you, stretching you just enough to make you moan. “This pretty little pussy, all mine to fuck, mine to ruin. And you, baby—so goddamn greedy for it.”

“Please,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand.

“Oh, I’m gonna give it to you,” he promised, pulling his fingers away and bringing them to his lips, licking them clean with a groan. “But you gotta be patient. Let me take my time with you.”

He undid his jeans with a quick, practiced motion, freeing his cock and stroking it a few times as he positioned himself at your entrance. The tip teased against your slick heat, and you bit your lip, trying to push yourself onto him.

“Greedy,” he muttered again, shaking his head, but the amusement in his voice was laced with so much need it made your stomach flutter. He slammed into you in one smooth, brutal motion, filling you so completely you cried out.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he paused for a moment, letting you adjust. “So tight.. squeezing me as if I were your lifeline”

He didn’t wait long before he started moving, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that was punishing and perfect. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, your hands scrambling for purchase against the hood of the car.

“You hear that?” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s the sound of me fuckin’ you like you’ve been beggin’ for all day.”

The wet, obscene noises of your bodies moving together filled the air, mingling with your gasps and his low groans. You couldn’t hold back the cries that spilled from your lips as his cock hit that perfect spot inside you over and over again.

“James,” you whimpered, your body arching into him, desperate and overwhelmed. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” he growled, his hand sliding between your bodies to circle your clit with his thumb. “Then come for me, baby. I wanna feel you.”

You shattered around him, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clenched around him, and he cursed under his breath, his thrusts growing sloppy as he chased his own release.

“Damn,” he groaned, pulling out at the last second and spilling himself across your stomach, the heat of it sending another shiver down your spine.

But he wasn’t done—not even close.

Dropping to his knees between your legs, he spread you open again, his tongue sliding through your folds to lap up everything you’d given him. His stubble scratched against your thighs as his mouth worked you over, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You taste so sweet,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your flesh. “Could eat you for hours, baby. Days, even. You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me keep you right here, keep you coming on my tongue until you’re too wrecked to even move.”

You couldn’t respond—not with the way his tongue was circling your clit, not with the way his fingers slid back inside you, coaxing another orgasm from you with devastating precision.

When you finally came again, trembling and gasping his name, he pulled back with a smirk, his lips and chin glistening. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your thigh before standing and pulling you - his little doll - into his arms. “You’re mine, baby. Every inch of you belongs to me.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan

(let me know if you want to be on the list or be out)

[signedaiko]

Hello could I have a oneshot of lost light velocity doing research on humans in preparation for the human liaison joining the lost light and realizing she’s attracted to humans thank you

Velocity X Reader [MTMTE]

In which Ratchet asks one of the medics to learn human sciences after you joined, and Velocity volunteers.

Song - Ecoute Cherie by Vendredi Sure Mer

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Human | Autobot.

Dragging the bookstore blanket along the metal hull floors, a small human groggily marched forwards in nothing but their slippers and a loose outfit they'd thrown on for their appointment with one of the med bots. 

A strange appointment, one that was extremely early for your human cycle, but Velocity said you could bring your blanket if you wanted, and so you did. 

Most of the usual Cybertronians were in stasis if not on duty during these hours, and the only people you crossed paths with were the not-so-troublesome ones, besides Siren, who'd greeted you with the vocal force of a firetruck. 

"Good morning, Velocity...?" You called out into the open room as the doors unlocked for you, draping the blanket over your shoulders like a cape as you continued in, sitting at your usual spot on the examination table. It had a padded cushion on it, something you assumed was for you. 

"Oh! Hi!" Her voice peeked around a doorframe before her face did, and she gave a short wave before holding up a finger. 

"I'll be right with you; I was just cleaning." While Cybertronian sterilizing techniques were far beyond human capabilities, Velocity insisted on doing it the human way for your visits, and you could hear the running water as she scrubbed through her joints with a bristled brush. You couldn't help but notice it sounded like she was brushing her teeth, an amusing image. 

When she walked out, she had a tray with some instruments, a label on the tray handle with your name on it. They were medical tools she'd purchased just for humans. Not only smaller, but also far more familiar to you. 

"How did you sleep?" She asked while offering you a warm, wet cloth to clean your eyes before she shone a light into them, checking for any signs of deviance from the norm. 

"The full eight hours, as you asked." She hummed in approval, lifting one of your legs carefully to check its range of movement.

"Great!" She looked away from her checkup for just a moment to give you a content smile, though she refocused on her checklist of assessment rather quickly. 

Her servos were warm, in a way that you could tell she'd used hot water to heat them up for you. She hadn't stopped apologizing since your first appointment when she'd startled you by touching your skin with cold digits. 

You crossed your arms to grab at the sides of your blanket, pulling it snug around you as you watched her curiously. 

Ever since you'd boarded the Lost Light, she'd made herself known as your sole care provider and requested you see her twice weekly so she can familiarize herself with human needs more appropriately. She was better than any human doctor you'd had, but she insisted you keep coming in for at least a bit longer. 

You couldn't imagine not coming in; it had become a strong part of your schedule, and you weren't sure you'd see her much outside of it. 

"I wish I could do that." Velocity hummed while putting a clip on one of your fingers with padded insides, which began taking your heartrate. 

"Do what?" You stared at the same number she did on the small screen, curiosity lingering. 

"Feel such a soft material on my skin—er, my imaginary skin. I wish I could have skin and be wrapped in a blanket. I bet it feels really nice." She watched as your heart rate increased, a smile growing on her face. 

You nodded, pulling it tighter around you. You weren't sure why that happened. 

"I wish I could tell you what it feels like, but 'nice' is about the best I can do. Maybe snug? Cozy?" You searched for a better descriptor, but you weren't sure she'd know what you were talking about to begin with. 

"Humans always seem so warm, 'cozy'..." Velocity drew on, pulling the clip off your finger, "I hope I've been doing a good job at keeping you 'snug' or something along those lines."

Judging by how heavy your eyes felt and how comfortable you were in a doctor's office, you'd mentally credited her with that long before she mentioned it. 

"You have." 

Silence built up as she continued, both of you deep in thought, though Velocity hummed a small tune in contrast to your complete silence. She really loved having you for a patient. Cybertronians were so complicated, but humans were so new and fun to learn about. You were self-repairing, and when something went wrong, it was fairly obvious. 

"Sometimes I wish I was Cybertronian, though." You watched her precision with her fingers as she replaced the end of a tool to check your pressure points, not slipping once despite its small size. 

"Well then, I suppose we have a lot to admire about one another then, don't we?" Velocity let off a giggle, ruffling your hair—though some got stuck in her plating, and you had to reach up to pull it out for her. 

Velocity finished as quickly as she usually did and helped you down from the table once she was sure she wouldn't need anything else from you. 

"Thank you for being so helpful! Remember that we'll be switching to monthly appointments, so you don't need to come back for a few weeks." She tapped onto a datapad for a moment before your smaller one dinged, "I sent you the date and time, and it should be on your calendar." 

"Nice." Looking down at it, you saw it nestled on the first of the next month, still a while away.

She opened the door for you, offering a wave, though it didn't take long for her to call out your name soon after you began walking away. 

"Actually, just so you know, you can stop by whenever my office is indicated as open! To talk, or, you know, I can do more research if you'd like. Or just anything!" 

"Sure thing!" You called back, waving her off with a yawn. 

It's not like you'd have much else to do other than the medical appointments; besides, you weren't the only one being checked out during the visits.

Author's Note - I actually love this lady so much shes so fun!!!! I also have been longing to get a oneshot sooo thank you!

Words - 1,032

[mangostarjam]

FUJI! HAPPY HOSHINA DAY!! What a wonderful, international holiday🥰

*ahem* I’m curious to know your opinion on how Hoshina would react to if WE bit him instead of him biting us. We all know he’s a biter (look at those menacingly adorable fangs) and would definitely mark us up in a subtle act of possession…

but… what if we did the same thing back to him👀

(also I reread The Proposal and have had Soshiro on my mind all day so I blame you and your amazing way of writing that bowlcut sexy man)

HAPPY (belated) HOSHINA DAAAAAY!! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و you're so nice omg. that means a lot to me!! i can't believe you reread my fic!! bowlcut sexy man........ this phrasing keeps cracking me up thank u nonnie ily

let's pretend i wrote this yesterday lmao

"Ow."

You hum and peer critically at the smooth skin of Soshiro's neck. It was a light bite, but you can see the barest imprint of teeth.

"What was that for?" Soshiro tips his head back to look at you, purple strands fanning out along his forehead with the movement. You tap his nose with a finger and then tip his head forward.

"Stay still, dearest," you mutter. Soshiro's shoulders shake with muffled chuckles, but he obeys easily. "I'm experimenting."

"Experimentin' what — ow."

You rest your hands on his shoulders for balance as you nip lightly at his neck again, pressing your thumbs into the tense muscles until he relaxes back into his seat. "You're a vice captain," you scoff, "there's no way this is hurting you."

"I'm sensitive," Soshiro says. You snort and press your canines into his skin again, soothing the bite with a soft kiss as you pull away. "Hey."

Soshiro spins around in his chair and hoists you onto his lap easily, smirking at your surprised squeak as your legs automatically spread to rest on either side of his thighs. He drags you down and forward, forcing you to sit pressed up against him, and then he tilts his chin and bares his neck.

"Soshiro-kun?"

"Told ya I'm sensitive," he says lightly. You watch with interest as his ears redden. "Go ahead. Keep experimenting."

You lean forward again, chest pressing against his as you fold the high collar of his jacket aside. Soshiro's the nibbler in your relationship, always nipping and biting at your skin until bruises bloom, tiny little aches that remind you of him with every accidental brush. You're just trying to return the favor.

Soshiro's breath catches in his throat as you kiss his Adam's apple, but you move on before you lose your chance. The soft skin at the junction of his jaw and neck makes his fingers tighten on your hips, so you pause there — and then you bite.

A low, rough sound is punched out of Soshiro's chest and he rocks forward, hips pressing hard into yours. His voice comes out strained. "Is this payback for stayin' late at work again?"

You suckle at his skin, worrying it carefully with your teeth and soothing with your tongue as much as you can. It doesn't bruise right away when you pull back, but it's clearly reddened and looks promising enough.

"Maybe," you hum. "Maybe I just wanted to see what it's like to mark you up."

Soshiro rolls his hips against yours and huffs out a low chuckle. You can feel him, hard between your legs, pressing up into your warmth as if all the layers of clothes aren't in the way.

"My turn."

[shinmiyovvi]

After 9 months of suffering from having braces, I finally got it removed, with a consequence of having fluoride on my teeth as I can finally brush it with a toothbrush tomorrow at 3:00 PM

[hershelwidget]

Encouragement

Gonna be thinking about “I’m kind of beautiful, in a terrible way.” forever and ever

[b0mblover]

Hate, in Every Sense of the Word.

By: J

major tws for; suicide mention, domestic abuse, abuse, sexual assult mention, murder mention, (really just alot of violence tbh) self harm mention

uh, sorry? that theres so many tws, ig also minor tw for mention of sex too.

uh haha i uh, can you tell what happened tonight? it wasnt even the worst one, just, im tired of it.

talk abt living out of spite bc mannnn, thats all i been going off of for a good while now!

i uh, i really wanna make a certain food bc um. (LOOK I WANNA MAKW A LESS OILY FUCKER OKAY) but my father is awake meaning my mother will be too soon but im scared to even go out of my room bc theyre prob gonna fighttt.

hhhrbd okok ill shut up for now, go ahead and read the angry jirou bullshit ig 😭

(oh yea, if it wasn’t obvious. im talking about my mother in this.)

——————————

yknow,

you havent been a great person

or a good one even.

yet you still question as to why i dont love you

or like you,

maybe you have an idea of how much i hate you.

maybe not

i dont really care about your feelings.

at all.

not now.

i put up with this for fucking 14 years.

my entire fucking life.

ive put up with your shit.

but now?

now im done.

you have no idea how badly you fucked up.

when he said that “im sorry im a fuck up” 

yknow.

he mightve not been right for what he did.

but,

it was just a mistake.

it was a goddamn mistake.

you have any idea how many times ive uttered those words too?

how many times ive repeated them?

how many times i fucking meant it?

just because you “had it bad” doesnt mean shit to me.

you have no goddamn right to treat others the same way.

dont give me that “i dont know how else to act!”

bullshit.

bullshit you dont.

you treated your damn boyfriend just fine!

you had a goddamn kid

you had two goddamn children.

with this man that you fucking DESPISE.

you knew it back then too.

you told me you did.

you fucking told me.

almost nothing can compare to the anger i feel to you right now.

nothing.

you have no right to act like that.

no.

you have no goddamn right to hit another fucking living being.

for such a simple mistake.

i dont care if he talked about it since friday.

i dont give a fuck if he talked about it for months.

you.

you as a goddamn human.

have no right.

none.

in the slighest.

to hit another living being.

for talking about something in your eyes “too much”

or making a mistake.

youre a hypocrite.

need i remind you?

you said that after you broke up with the man you were having an affair with.

that youd be a better person.

stop the fights.

stop the beatings.

stop all of it.

and everything would be okay!

.

i didn’t believe you for a goddamn millisecond.

youre a liar.

just how you said i was.

you didnt quit.

you didnt stop.

hell two months after you hit him again!

you threatened to kill him and yourself!

cmon.

dont you get it yet?

i fucking despise you.

maybe to a degree i feel shocked.

but.

i really dont think thats it.

youre the root of my problems.

every single last fucking one.

——————

need i remind you as how i had to learn to cook, because you were too busy with your damn boyfriend to help me?

.

need i remind you how when i tried to show you that i was fucking cutting myself when i was 9 you only talked about how it looked ugly?

.

need i remind you about how many times you said that you didnt care if i hurt myself as long as no one can see it?

.

need i remind you about how you ignored the rope burn on my neck god knows how many times?

.

need i remind you how you denied fucking multiple peoples sexual assault because “it couldntve been like that”?

.

need i remind you of how many times i almost had to be hospitalized because of your neglect?

.

need i remind you of how many nights i spent alone, in the cold, in the dead of winter, just because you wanted to fuck your boyfriend?

.

need i remind you of what you yelled at me so many times?

.

need i remind you of what i seen?

.

need i remind you of how many times you blamed your abusive behaviors on medication?

.

need i fucking remind you of my entire purpose?

.

i dont care about your feelings anymore.

i gave up years ago.

but now.

i dont feel just numb for you.

i hate you.

in every sense of the word.

.

i dont care of what you or anyone else thinks of me.

.

i dont care about what you think of my appearance.

.

i dont care if you think im too thin or fat or whatever word youll use next.

.

i dont care about what you think because you’ll hate me no matter what.

.

you thought id stop being xxxx when you broke up with him.

you yelled at me.

no.

you fucking screamed at me for weeks.

im tired of even putting in the slighest effort of acting as if i fucking care.

i dont give a fuck about you.

and yknow?

if.

no.

if it would work.

if it was possible.

id fucking kill you.

id stab you.

right here.

right now.

to end my suffering.

to end his suffering.

all of it.

id end it all.

i dont care if its wrong.

because i know no one else knows about whats going on.

yknow.

only one person around here knows what youve done to him and me.

and i havent even met her in person.

yknow.

the people i used to be close with from school.

only just learned you had an affair.

i know that.

the police are do-less.

since you know them.

and hes a man.

not a woman.

it wouldnt be taken seriously.

that he should just fight back.

yknow.

youve ruined what life he has left.

his parents beat him.

his ex wife beat him, and cheated on him.

and here.

youve done the exact same thing.

yknow.

he’ll never get to see how love truely is.

because of you.

because of what youve done.

i cant say i really like him either.

but.

that doesnt give you the right to ruin his life.

.

yknow whats worse?

how i know the only reason that so far youve never dared to lay a finger on me.

is because ive proved that i won’t hesitate to beat the fuck out of you right back.

i know i joke about that night.

but.

really.

hitting you for doing that was the best decision i couldve made.

its kept me safer than i wouldve been for years. 

and even now.

if you were to as so much to touch me.

while in a fight.

id do it all over again.

you maybe 100 pounds heavier than me.

but you dont know how to fight against someone who wont just sit there and take it.

i wont forgive you for what youve done.

even if he will.

.

i want nothing to do with you.

get out of my life for good.

[gojosprettyprincess]

Not proofread

Thinking about Toji following you into the shower claiming that it's to "save water" and that he won't do anything weird but that always ends up with your boobs being pressed up uncomfortably against the cold marble wall while your struggling to stand up on your tippy toes because of the firm grip he has on your hips that’s holding you up. Two of his thick fingers pumping in and out of your tight puckering asshole while the thick, prominent veins in his cock dragged along the spongy area with each roll of his hips inside your sloppy pussy.

“Fuck that’s it doll, taking my cock so well, you’re such a good girl ya know that?” He smirks behind you, running his tongue along his scar as he watched where the two of you were deliciously connected.

You whimpered at his praise, wiggling your ass back into him pathetically, feeling his two fingers scissoring and stretching your forbidden walls as it contracts around him, squeezing soo hard around his thick fingers. You mewled as he gave your ass another hard slap, his relentless thrusts making his fat cockhead brushes against your g-spot as your pussy continues leaking all over his dick. Your mind grows fuzzy at the amount of pleasure you were receiving by having both of your holes filled.

“Fuc-k! O-oh feels s’good inside of me Toji, s’goood” You moaned out, both of your legs wobbling as you felt his cock racing in and out of you. Your brain turning to mush as you covered his cock with messy rings of your cream.

“Yeahh? Seee I told you baby, all ya gotta do is be a good little girl f’me n listen to what daddy says and he’ll make you feel sooo good.” He keened, referring to when you were trying to resist him earlier which led to this, while he was groping and touching you everywhere, seducing you. But either way, Toji will always get his way with you no matter what.

He hisses sharply at how tight your butthole and pussy were clenching around him. To him both of your holes are pretty, tight and delicious so why not stuff both of em? His cock twitches uncontrollably inside of you as your cunt milks him for his own release. He already pulled two orgasms out of you so there’s no way he’s stopping till you’re fed full of this cum. His jaw runs slack as he felt your pussy spasming around him, “Shitt you’re killing me doll—gonna stuff the pretty cunt soo deep and full with my cum, I bet it’ll overflow” he groans, pulling his fingers out of your ass so he can use both hands to grip on your hips to your pound you harder.

You whined as your butthole flutters, missing Toji’s fingers and attention as he picks up his pace inside your cunt. His fingernails dug into both sides of your hips as heavy cum-filled balls continuously slaps against your clit, increasing the intensity of pleasure. He mashes his body closer to you, his chest touching your back as he licks your earlobe gently. You whimpered when you feel his cock throbbing in your pussy, “shitshitshit” he gritted his teeth, “I’m gonna cum, fucking take it all” he moans, wrapping both arms around your torso, smothering his body against yours as his sperm flows into your pussy, filling you up and painting your walls white as he tucks his face into your neck.

His hot breath fanning against your skin as he continues to thrusts shallowly into you. Half of his milky cum escapes out of your snugged cunt, leaking down your legs as he fucks the rest deeper into you.

He finally pulls out of you, his eyes focused on how fast his sperm leaks out of your hole and runs down your thighs. “Fuckk, would you look at that” he snickered, slapping his cock against your soaked wet hole.

“Finish up and meet me in the bedroom” he gives your ass a hard smack before leaving the shower.

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI

You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 

What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 

He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”

You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”

“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Eat me-”

You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 

“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 

Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”

Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”

The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 

You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…

The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 

Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”

You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 

You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 

You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 

Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 

There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 

Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”

Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 

You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 

It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 

“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 

Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 

You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”

You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 

Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 

Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”

You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”

“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 

For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.

Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 

The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 

Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 

A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 

The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 

You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 

“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”

You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 

“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”

Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”

Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 

You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”

Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 

You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 

“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 

You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 

Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 

“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 

Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 

He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 

What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 

You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 

Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 

“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 

Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn��t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”

Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”

“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 

You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 

But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”

Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 

Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”

He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 

He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 

Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 

Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 

“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 

But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 

Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 

Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 

You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 

There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 

“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 

You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 

Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 

The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 

You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 

You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 

There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 

You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 

You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 

You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 

Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 

You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 

You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 

You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”

“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 

You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 

They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 

She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 

Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 

“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.

You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 

“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”

“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”

He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 

All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 

He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”

“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 

Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 

He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 

“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 

It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 

“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 

“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”

Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 

“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 

You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”

Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”

You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”

Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”

You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”

He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”

There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 

You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.

You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”

Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 

“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 

You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 

There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 

You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 

You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 

You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 

You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”

You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 

You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 

Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 

“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”

“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 

The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”

You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 

Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 

“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 

His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”

You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 

It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 

You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”

You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 

You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 

You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”

You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-

You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 

You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  

You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 

He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 

You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 

You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 

No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 

It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 

You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 

It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 

His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 

One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 

He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”

You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 

He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”

You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 

Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?

You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 

You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 

You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 

You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 

He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 

You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.

You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 

You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 

The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 

It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 

“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 

When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 

It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 

The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 

You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 

He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”

He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”

You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 

You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 

“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 

His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 

“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”

You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 

But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 

“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 

“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 

“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 

He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 

You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 

You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 

It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 

After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 

You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 

Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 

You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 

He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 

Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 

There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 

Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  

There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 

“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”

There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”

You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 

He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 

You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”

There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.

But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”

You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 

But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”

“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 

“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”

You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 

You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 

“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 

There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 

Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 

You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 

He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”

Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 

You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 

Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 

It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 

You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 

His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 

You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 

But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”

He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 

You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”

You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”

Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”

He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”

You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”

”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”

He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 

Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 

You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor

Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 

“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 

He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 

He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”

”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 

Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[i-love-ptv]

Stacy’s Mom Has Got It Goin’ On ˚̣̣ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣

Pairing: Husband!Rafe Cameron x Soccer-mom!Wife!Reader

It’s not easy being a soccer-mom, especially when dads hit on you at every game as if you’re not married to Rafe.

Wc: 1,596

Fluff, Protective Rafe making an appearance, kinda pushy guy (idk what to say)

An: I’ve really wanted to write a fic based on this song, and this idea randomly popped into my head so! Am I using the names I wanna name my kids? Yes, yes I am.

Not proofread tbh

Feedback always appreciated lovelies!! xx

“I’ll be back, ‘mkay doll?”

You hum in acknowledgement, eyes peering back at the field after looking up.

Your husband, Rafe leant down and places a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Yeahhh, Daddy’s gonna be back, baby.” Rafe coos at your two year old, who was sitting on your lap, babbling freely while peering at him with her big doe eyes.

Rafe walks off the bleachers; in search of the concession stand to buy food for the three of you.

You brush your hand over your young daughter’s head, making sure her somewhat oversized hat is still covering her head entirely. Her hand wraps around your index finger.

It was oddly humid today, if you continued moving, you’d break a slight sweat. You can't even imagine what your daughter -Stacy must be feeling, running around on the large grassy field under the beaming bright sun.

You were proud of your baby girl though, nonetheless. And so was Rafe, of course.

You shout loudly when you notice the game is about to start, bellowing out a “Go Stacy!”

Stacy’s eyes easily found yours, for you and Rafe would always sit in the same spot on the bleachers.

Her eyes were slightly wide due to your shout, despite you and Rafe always cheering for her during her games.

She’s motioning for you to ‘shh’, putting her fingers to her lips before getting into her position.

“Which one’s yours?” You hear to the left of you, the unknown voice makes you tear your eyes away from the field.

You smile shortly at the unfamiliar man next to you, “Number 22.”

You can’t help but notice how he’s rather scruffy looking, an odd contrast to your upkept husband with his neatly buzzed hair.

“Mine’s number 13.” He says, flashing his teeth at you.

You gasp and shoot up a little, making you look down at your daughter on your lap. “Valerie’s yours? Oh she’s just the sweetest!”

The man chuckles, looking deeply in your eyes. This makes your eyebrows raise, slightly in confusion, but mostly in discomfort.

He hadn’t done anything out of the norm, you’d randomly talk to the other moms around too, but something about him made you uncomfortable.

“My name's Brandon, and yours?”

You introduce yourself briefly, before turning back towards the game.

His eyes dart to your left hand, looking for a ring, for any indication that you belong to someone else. He smiles sharply when he finds your fingers bare. This goes unnoticed by you.

Little does he know, you do have your ring on, just around your neck.

Your biggest fear was your youngest accidentally pulling off your ring, resulting in you losing it. Or, even worse: it pokes her eye or something of that nature.

You suppose you could be considered a ‘Helicopter-mom’ at times, simply going to the extremes to make sure your kids are happy and healthy at every point in time.

Rafe is the exact same way, maybe even a little worse. But you knew he was just protective, he loves this life that he has with you, since he had no idea the two of you would’ve been together for so long.

You had started dating Rafe when you were 18 and he was 19. It was good for the first few months, disregarding the few arguments that you had. But then, you had caught Rafe doing cocaine.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake the look on his face from your memory.

You weren’t supposed to be at the party, you said you were busy filling out college applications.

So when he was mid-line, and he saw you standing there all dolled up, watching him with glossy eyes, he felt his heart shatter into pieces.

You weren’t supposed to find out, he wanted to keep this away from you, to keep you close to him.

He promised that he would try and stay sober for you, but eventually he’d give in every time the opportunity was in front of him. This resulted in several arguments, and surprisingly, a break up.

But things are different now. You both are in your 30’s, you got married, and of course, had two beautiful babies together.

Rafe knew he’d be crazy to fuck things up now, when he has the perfect life right in front of him.

Speaking of which; you’re really starting to wonder what the hell is taking him so long just to get some goddamn hotdogs and drinks.

You’re bouncing your knee anxiously, which makes your daughter giggle. You wish she wasn’t finding this amusing, but you know she can’t help it.

“Well who’s this cute girl, huh?” The man coos, tickling your daughter’s side.

“Her name is Noelle.” You huff, your mood quickly

shifting to do this stranger touching your daughter.

He lets out another chuckle, you wish you never had to hear it again. “Sounds like you’re quoting Teenage Dirtbag to me.”

You give him a pointed look, you’re really getting sick of his pestering. “That’s where I got it from.”

Abruptly, the crowd starts cheering madly. You look around and see Stacy's team celebrating briefly; they had just scored a goal.

You cheer and clap, grabbing Noelle’s chubby hands and making her raise her arms wildly while giggling with her.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could-” Before Brandon could finish his sentence, none other than Rafe Cameron comes stomping up the bleachers, huffing and puffing angrily.

He sits down and sighs, “God, I’m sorry babe. The line was so long! I swear I’m going grey right now.”

“And I missed the goddamn play!” Rafe exclaims. He looks over at you and immediately goes quiet once he sees those wide baby eyes that look at him curiously.

“Da?” Noelle mutters, reaching her tiny hands towards Rafe’s larger ones.

“Yeah. Da’s here babygirl, do you want your food? Huh sweet girl?”

Rafe hands you your food, setting his food aside so he can put Noelle in his lap. He begins to split half his hotdog in pieces for her.

You glance to the left, you notice Brandon looking like a fish out of water.

Rafe is the CEO of one of, if not the biggest business company around. And Brandon had just borderline harassed his wife, who was holding his child.

Brandon sneers at the two of you in silence while the game continues, nearly boiling at the fact that he couldn’t have you.

Your head is laying on Rafe’s shoulders, you’re rubbing circles on Noelle’s shoulder as she settles down.

“Everything alright babe?” Rafe asks, trying to peer down at your face.

You untuck your necklace with your wedding ring from your shirt, fiddling with it. “Yeah, now that you’re here Ray.”

There’s silence between the two of you for a few seconds.

“…What does that mean?”

You hesitate to answer, but you do regardless, “Nothing! It’s just uh..That guy next to me, was kinda like hassling me I guess.”

This makes Rafe straighten his back.

“He do somethin’ to you doll?” Rafe questions in a whisper. You know you have about 30 seconds to try and calm him down before he’s banned from every soccer game left in the season.

“No, okay? I’m fine, it’s cool. I need you to calm down Ray.”

Rafe’s nose is flaring, “What about Ellie? Did he touch her?”

You feel your throat closing up, your heart is damn near pounding out of your chest.

You don’t say anything to Rafe, but that look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know.

You grab his bicep, trying to keep him grounded. Even though he’s changed, some parts of him haven’t.

Rafe speaks lowly in your ear, but not too much to frighten you in any way. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Don’t worry y’pretty little head about it.”

Rafe presses a firm kiss against your cheek, then presses a softer one to your lips.

After 30 more minutes, and 2 more goals, Stacy’s team wins.

You and Rafe cheer loudly, letting out “That’s our baby girl!”

You meet Stacy at the bottom of the bleachers, holding Noelle in your hand as the littlest claps her hands between Stacy’s face.

You’re too busy congratulating your daughter to notice Rafe pulling Brandon aside while his daughter, Valerie is off talking to her friends.

Rafe puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “Hey man.”

Brandon lets out a nervous laugh, “Hey there, Rafe Cameron, right?”

“Yeah, let’s keep this short. I better not see or hear you talking to my wife again, do you hear me? I don’t give a shit what happened.”

Rafe continues shortly, “And keep your fucking hands to yourself, if I find out you touched my either of my daughters again, I swear to God himself I’ll put you under.”

The two men are holding eye contact, one looks with confidence and borderline rage, while the other looks with fear.

Rafe walks down the bleachers, meeting you and your girls.

“You were amazing out there sweetheart!” Rafe smiles while pulling Stacy into a bear hug.

“Jesus dad, you’re crushing me!” Stacy laughs with a slight wheeze.

Rafe ruffles her hair and puts his arm around your neck.

“All good to go?”

You nod your head, and with that, the four of you begin to walk to Rafe’s parked car.

Rafe realizes that this isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on at a soccer game, or anywhere in fact. And this definitely won’t be the last.

Cause everybody’s in love with Stacy’s mom.

[syluss-littlecrow]

Hi there, I dunno of you take requests but I'd like to request Sylus with MC who's love language is biting. And MC would also totally leave marks. And Sylus would think of his own payback for her everytime.

red marker

<sylus x fem!reader>

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, biting kink, backshots, pussy eating, breeding kink, size kink

w/c: 1.2K

a/n: thank you for my very first fic request here ❤️ sylus is definitely a biter (his little fangs!!) just wanna say I have plenty of skin for him to take a chomp off 😛

Sylus stares at the mirror, specifically staring down at the whole garden of love bites you’ve planted him with. He knows you’ve been biting him when he’s fucking you, but he doesn’t realise how much you’ve been taking bites out of him like he’s strawberry shortcake. 

Well, not that he minded. The thought of you thinking of marking him as yours secretly makes his heart flutter.

So he should return the favour, right?

Sylus takes in the scent of his shampoo on you, his eyes screwed shut as slowly breaths pull out of him. His palm is warm against the small of your back. You smell so fucking good just filled of him. It reminds him that you’re his. 

And even with his cock sheathed deep inside of you right now, he still thinks this isn’t enough. 

While swimming in his thoughts, he feels a sharp pain scatter on his shoulder blade. It barely lasts before it switches to pleasure when he realises that you’re biting onto his skin again. 

“Sweetie, aren’t you enjoying this too much?”, his low groans sending goosebumps across your skin. 

His fingers brush your hair away, his attention aimed on your neck, before he latches his lips, then his teeth, testing your pain threshold, ready to release at any sign of discomfort that you give. 

But a soft moan and your pussy tightening against his cock is what you return him. And Sylus can’t help but sink his teeth a little deeper while he forces you to fuck his cock. 

Your lewd cries grow louder whenever you lift yourself off his cock and impale yourself once more, and your lips have completely left his skin. 

Sylus presses his lips on your chest, cupping both tits with his large and slender fingers, pinching your nipples, all while grazing his teeth and licking your tits. It drives you nuts, and he figures that from the way cream is just coating his dick while he makes you ride him. 

He nibbles against the soft skin of your breast, then sucking the tender flesh, making sure he sees a soft bruise bloom on your chest. And he repeats it, over and over again, until you completely come undone on his dick, your pussy fluttering and leaking all over him, and your thighs shaking from being forced to cum all over his thick cock. 

He pauses to look up at you. His hand now is at the nape of your neck. 

“Did you cum all over my dick?” He asks, watching you nod your head shakily, the remnants of your orgasm still lingering in your spent pussy. 

Your mind is still hazy, but you still answer him, “yeah.”

“Good girl”, he chuckles. “But we’re not done yet.”

Sylus lifts you off him, and he’s already missing your warm tightness. Nonetheless, he has other plans. He can be patient. 

With much ease, consisting of a whole lot of using his Evol, you’re settled with his face between your legs. 

You’re about to protest about him not cumming yet, but when his tongue flicks against your wet clit, your mind shuts off, leaving behind trails of cries from overstimulation.

He switches between fucking his tongue into your pussy and then trailing his lips to the soft and thick flesh of your inner thighs—his actual target. 

You jolt at the sensation of his teeth grazing against your flesh again, a nice wave of slick slowly spilling out of your pathetic hole. 

Sylus makes sure he’s had his fill, and that’s filling your thighs with his bite marks and love bites until he’s satisfied. 

“Dirty kitten, getting off from being bitten, hmm?” The male in between your legs teases. He only receives a whine in response. 

Sylus quickly realises why you enjoy marking him so much—he wants to mark you all over as his too. He could get hooked onto this. 

He doesn’t forget to switch to the other side, sending your mind into an overstimulated frenzy when it’s as if he’s ready to have you for his next meal. 

Bruises and bite marks slowly fill up the empty spaces of your skin, with Sylus enjoying your sobs while your pussy only grows wetter from the sting. 

“Sylus, I’m sensitive-“, you whimper, your hands messing up his pale locks. Sylus casts you. an amused expression before he decides to have mercy on you, and pulls away. Sylus shifts to meet your eye level, pulling you into a dizzy kiss. 

His palms slide down your body, he leans into you, but he doesn’t press his weight onto you. 

“Turn around for me, kitten.” His whispers, and you do, soft gasps leaving your lips when you arch your back against him, feeling his thick cock rest against your creamy folds. 

“That’s it”, he encourages with praise, his hand adjusting his cock to line up right to your pulsing cunt before he pushes himself in, stuffing you full with a strained groan. “That’s a good fucking girl.”

He hears your quiet whimpers, and this time, he presses his body weight onto you. His fingers lift your chin up so you’re forced to face Sylus from the side. 

When he pulls out and thrusts into you from behind, it makes your thighs tremble from the sheer pleasure. 

The pace he’s setting is making you see stars, and when his lips are on your shoulder once more and he’s sinking his teeth into your skin, you’re losing it. 

You can barely keep your eyes open, your body completely submitting to the pleasure that Sylus is sinking you in. 

“Does this feel good, kitten?” He asks while another smack echoes in his room, his cock railed into you for the nth time.

Attempts to process his words are futile, especially not when he’s fucking your thoughts out of you. 

“So good. So fucking amazing”, you’re borderline sobbing, unintentionally pushing yourself back to make sure he’s making you full to the brim from every stroke 

While he’s drowning you in pleasure, Sylus makes sure he leaves a couple of marks down your neck to the best of his abilities. 

“I’m gonna cum”, your strained voice catches his attention, along with the way your pussy is squeezing Sylus’s dick. He groans at the sensation, his thrusts growing more heavy and desperate. Undoubtedly, you feel like fucking heaven on his cock. 

And when he feels you let go on his cock, his grip around on your neck tightens. He’s definitely not lasting any longer. Not when you’re luring him down with you like this. He wants so badly to ruin you, bring you down with him, mark every bare skin of yours possible.

So he does.

Sylus makes sure his final bite for the night blooms a gorgeous shade of wine on your bare skin, while his cum fills you up all the way, enjoying the way you’re shaking and whining. 

The corner of Sylus’s lips curl into a smirk while he watches you slowly drift into your slumber, your body inching close to him to catch his warmth. His gaze trails down to your chest, admiring his work of art—his bites imprinted across your neck, shoulders, chest, and especially around your nipples. He knows he’s ready for a scolding if you find out, but Sylus gets it now—there’s nothing more beautiful and satisfying as reminding you that you belong to him.