#Trying to wake up a little before I need to to go to bed but this day off was so nice

[okwonyo]

INTO YOU, 或 𓈒𓈒 navigating a secret relationship.

❛𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇’ 𝗎𝗌. 𝗌𝗈, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗅𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𓈒𓈒 ❜

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 16OO fluff ── non idol au skinship kissing ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i miss summer and i desperately need winter to come huhu >< idea from my favorite oomf @soov 🎀 enjoy !

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

the cold air brushes your face as you step outside. you wrap your arms around your body, trying to get warmth by hugging yourself. 

you walk to the usual corner where your boyfriend organizes your little meeting. the weather gets colder as you walk to it, you swear it. 

it puts you in a bad mood, you can feel your eyebrow furrowing and a frown forming on your lips. 

there is a fire that lights in your freezing heart when you finally see his face. he leaning on the wall next to him, and he seems to be smiling at your misery. 

“what?” you say, harsher than you initially attended to— it doesn’t seem to bother him. not in the slightest, his smile grows wider. you smile as well, “what?” 

standing straight, he steps closer to you. so close that you have to tilt your head up to see him properly. “nothing,” he shrugs, “jus’ wanted to see you.” 

you don’t answer, just staring at him blankly. although the warmth of his words touches you, you sniff, “‘m cold, hee,” you state. 

the said ‘hee’ laughs, loudly. in a way that makes his adam apple move, in a way that makes you flush, in a way that keeps your eyes on him. 

he steps even closer, your chest gets pressed against his. he wraps his arms around you putting his face in the crook of your neck: 

“i’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, you don’t hug him back. even though you close your eyes. “is it better now?”

you only hum before adding, “i hope no one catches us.”

JAY

the first thing you feel on your skin is the sunlight peeking through the windows’ blinds. it kisses you slowly out of sleep, welcoming you warmly in the new day. 

the second thing you feel is the gentle pressure around you and the circle of warmth— that is not yours—swallowing you whole. you hide your face further into the body in front of you. 

the arm holds you closer as you hug the body tighter. 

all your senses slowly awoke and you can progressively recognize the scent enveloping your nose. 

it smells like cologne, like a real man, like home, like home, like—

“jay!” you exclaim, jolting awake. the man groans next to you, his arm sliding on your thighs. you tap him, “jay, wake up!”

his deep, sleepy voice emerges from him, “what?” he almost whines. 

“we fell asleep,” you whisper loudly, looking at your barely conscious boyfriend. that should also definitely be anywhere but in your bed. “you are not supposed to be there!”

it looks like it takes a while for him to register, but when he finally does, he almost falls on the floor. 

he gets his shirt back on himself, kisses you quickly and escapes from the window.

JAKE

he loves when you kiss him. he loves when your soft lips brush his skin and when your mouth rests on his ever so softly. 

and you know it. he tells you always, how much he loves it, hushed and hurriedly between two kisses in the corner— hiding from the public eye. 

this is why you already know, from the look in his eyes weighing on you from right across you, that he wants to kiss you. 

he watches you amongst the crowd of all your mutual friends together and when they all leave, back turned toward you, he stays. 

he holds your waist and, in a sort of instinct, you cup his face. 

you aim for his pretty nose first, then you peck his cheek two times in a row before finally kissing him on the mouth.

“i got to go,” he whispers against your mouth before kissing one more time. 

when you look one last time on his face, you giggle— seeing lipstick strains about everywhere you kissed him. he wears them like tattoos and leaves before you can even tell him anything. 

(he is cheeks blossom with a red hue when his friends tell him about it.) 

SUNGHOON

you barely survive the entire day with someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in the tiniest room possible.

surprise doesn’t over take you anymore. you already know why you are here and who you are with. 

your boyfriend’s hand cups your jaw, gently and carefully. he tilts your head up, just a little to be able to lean in a bit and kiss you as your fingers slide in his black thick hair. 

“hi,” he says when he pulls away a tad to tilt his head to the other side. 

he kisses you senseless. loving and passionate like he usually does. his tongue slides in your mouth. you let him lick the inside of it instead of greeting him back.

his free hand hugs your waist, pulling you closer to his body, impossibly so.

your boyfriend is all over you. he takes over your senses and swallows whole. you cannot think of anything else but his hot tongue teasing yours. 

until someone tries to unlock the door and you jump, breaking the kiss and pulling a weird sound out of your lover’s throat.

“did you just bite me?” he hushes and you apologize, eyes still worriedly looking over the door. he chuckles, “i liked that.”

you beat his chest with your fist playfully.

SUNOO

he swears to you—brags even— whenever he has the chance that he is not a jealous man. 

you almost started to believe it, if it wasn’t for how often he brings it up. almost as if he is trying to gaslight you or desperately trying to convince himself, or rather manifest it. 

and you could even consider it, rethink it when you are on your own. but you can always feel it, see it in his face. 

the heaviness of his gaze whispers the truth to you. whenever you are talking to another man a few feet ahead of him. 

in your peripheral vision, his arms are crossed under his chest. and his teeth are pressed so tight against one another, that his jaw is more defined than ever.

he comes to you as soon as the stranger leaves, “who was that?” he asks, nodding his head towards the leaving man.

you study his frustrated face with an amused look. his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth is frowned— he looks cute, if you were to be honest. 

you opt for something funnier, “are you jealous?”

he instantly opens his mouth, to defend himself and closes it immediately. 

his sighs, “yes,” he states. shock explodes in your stomach. “i don’t like seeing guys flirt with you,” he leans to whisper the rest in your ear: “when they don’t know you are already taken.” 

JUGWON

this entire situation seems to be very funny to your—secret—boyfriend.

it is no surprise that he is annoying in private. his fingertips melting in your sides, him tickling you, your skin getting pinched and getting a yelp out of you each time. just because he can.

and just because he can, he does his best to get a reaction out of you in public. 

sometimes, he stares at you from across the room, tilting his head to the side with a grin when your eyes lock. you ignore him each time. 

sometimes, his knuckles brush smoothly and ever so softly against your skin as he passes by you. his touch stings all day long.

today, he aims for a mixture of it. 

“look,” your friend whispers to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. her finger is pointed to his direction when you look at her, “he is doing it again.”

your boyfriend is staring at you from across the end of the hall you are walking down. he is walking towards your direction, but you tell your friend to ignore him.

he takes a step to the side as he approaches, exchanging places with his friend to walk next to you. his fingers quickly wrap around yours as your shoulder brushes. 

he holds onto it enough to make your heart skip a beat, but not enough for anyone to see.

RIKI

his hoodies are way too soft and comfortable for you to not steal. 

he always manages to find the sweetest material. the kind of tissue that his scent soaks into perfectly. a tissue that keeps his warmth days after he wears it. 

you love to be enveloped into that said material. so big and perfectly cozy like the embarrassed he locks you in.

“you want it?” he once asked you. seeing the way you buried your face in his hoodie. you shook your head against his torso, “i insist, sweetheart.”

you didn’t fight against his own wants and you find yourself in it a few days later. the cold wind doesn’t go through it when your coat gives up for a mere second and you hold onto it for dear life.

you bury your nose in it when you miss your lovely boyfriend. his cologne is still impregnated in it— it makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

when you meet each other at his, he comments: “isn’t that my hoodie you are wearing?” your cheeks get pink. “were you really walking around with that on your back?” 

you study his own outfit before answering, “and isn’t that my shirt you are wearing?” you pinch his cheek and he laughs. “i thought you hated pink, mh?”

you taught him well.

ㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[signanothername]

If someone had found baby corrupted nightmare and taken him in, raised him, like, say for example, blue, how differently do you think everything would have ended up?

(*COUGH COUGH* totally not just pushing my dad swap agenda nope nuh uh *COUGH*)

i just imagine nightmare sneaking into his room at night to curl up near his bed like a dog, and IMMEDIATELY skedaddling when he senses him wake up.

This poor kid is freshly dead (alive? Born?) he is in Desperate need of comfort 💀 but it's not like he's gonna ask for it outright.

And i horrendously need someone to hold him and give him warm food and new clothes and toys to play with and blankets and tuck him in at night and Hold Him and feed him medicine when he's sick and read hin bedtime stories and rock him to sleep and give him a comfort plushie or blanket or item of sorts and HOLD HIM and-

ahem, so anyway, what do you think? How differently do you think he would've ended up? Cuz i think it'd be a lot different if nightmare was shown care by someone for once and comforted by someone who wasn't a fellow traumatized six year old.

And, yknow, was an adult who knew what they were doing and didn't hate him for no reason 💀

Ooooh :D

Yeah I definitely think he would’ve grown up a much different person, cause he wouldn’t have relied on himself to survive, he wouldn’t experience the constant fear of the many ways he could get hurt or die

He definitely wouldn’t have starved on negativity cause he didn’t know how to balance it anymore

And if he was actually raised by a loving parent that’s actually present in his life to guide him through it enough to find a healthy outlet for the horrors he experienced, as well as help him with his emotional, mental, and physical health a lot better, his life would be a lot easier

I think he still would be a lot more grumpy and a bit aggressive than he was before the corruption, and the Apple incident would still have a great impact on his psyche, he’d still hold a bit of fear inside, but that fear won’t end up guiding all his actions, and it definitely wouldn’t lead to him becoming power hungry, doing whatever he deems necessary to obtain it

Hell, even with how the corruption twists his happiness from something pure to finding joy in the misery of others, I still think with a loving parent raising him, he will find healthy outlets to his emotions, whatever they may be

I think he might eventually tell his parent figure about what happened with him, with his mother, with his twin, maybe even Dream would find himself in a lot better circumstances when he awakens from stone, finding a brother patiently awaiting him, finding himself waking up in warm welcoming arms, I definitely think it’ll contribute to the twins’ relationship being a lot better, a lot healthier

Their trauma would still put a few wrenches in their journey, but it definitely wouldn’t go so sour and bitter, Nightmare would be a lot more open towards Dream’s love and affection, hatred won’t taint his heart and cause their relationship to go so wrong

Generally, I definitely think it’ll be a lot more fluffy and slice of life-ish, which is super wholesome to think about

Now as for Blue specifically being the father figure, only two words, FUCK YES.

But I feel like, as a very traumatized lil child who doesn’t know any better, who had adults hate, hurt and even try to kill him, Nightmare would simply not trust Swap, not immediately

So it’d be really fun to see Nightmare actually warm up to Swap first way before he takes Nightmare in to raise and take care of him, it’d be fun to see what Swap might do to gain Nightmare’s trust enough for Nightmare to even let him within 10 meters without running away immediately or attacking him

May I also present some suggestions for another parental figure that could be really fun to explore? Color, I’d love to see him take care of a little newly corrupted Nightmare dhhdhdhd

Anyway *cough* this is such an adorable possible multiverse *cough*

[archangeldyke-all]

giggling so bad imagining R shaving her bush and sevika being like oh my god do u hate me?!?! what did I do?!?! how can I make it up to u I'm sorry pleeeeeease never do this again we can talk it out next time please 😭😭

LMAOOO

men and minors dni

last month, your period crept up on you, and you woke up half convinced you'd been stabbed in your sleep.

you and sevika didn't even try to salvage the sheets, just throwing them in the trash before re-making the bed. your pajamas were ruined, and, grossest of all, your crotch was a sticky, bloody mess.

so, this month to avoid any more incidents, you've been sleeping on a towel in anticipation, wearing a pad to bed just in case, and... you've shaved.

you haven't shaved in years. you and sevika are both bush enjoyers, and neither of you have ever felt the need to take a razor to your pits or legs since you started dating. finding a razor to use is almost impossible, but you manage to find one buried in the far back of your bathroom closet.

you feel so... cold. and smooth. you're hyper-aware of the feeling of your underwear rubbing on your skin. it's strange. not unpleasant, but strange. with one last look down your pants at your hair-less pussy, you shrug and crawl into bed.

you think that's the end of it.

you go to sleep easily, waking up about an hour later when sevika crawls in bed behind you. she kisses you gently and you hum, wrapping your arms around her before you both fall asleep.

in the morning, though, you wake up to a horrified gasp.

"what!? what is it, is someone breaking in?" you ask, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. as you pull your hands away, though, you don't find sevika sitting beside you where she should be. she's hovering on top of you on all fours, a horrified look on her face. "sevika, what?!" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

"you shaved?!" sevika cries. you blink, your mind still half asleep, before finally looking down at your crotch.

you burst into laughter as you do. sevika's pulled your pants down your thighs in your sleep, clearly trying to give you a nice wake up call, and she's just now seeing your bare cunt. "sevika, for fuck's sake, i thought something horrible happened!" you laugh.

"something horrible has happened! why the fuck did you shave!?" sevika asks, her eyes wide and heartbroken. "d-did i piss you off, or something? whatever it is, baby, i promise i'll make it up to yo--"

"sevika!" you cackle. sevika pouts as she looks up from your pussy to your face. "baby, i shaved because my period's on the way and i didn't wanna deal with the mess again."

sevika's looking at you like you've lost your mind. "wha-- fuck that!" she whines. you chuckle. "what the fuck am i supposed to do when i'm goin' down on you now? my nose is gonna get all cold, i won't have anything to run my fingers through..." sevika looks seriously upset. you giggle just a little at the absurdity of the situation, then reach up to cup her face.

"it'll grow back, baby." you promise. sevika frowns.

"but then you'll just shave it off again!"

"no, i won't babe." you say. "not if you feel this strongly about it. plus, it's a lotta work-- i was scared to death i was gonna cut one of my lips off or something."

sevika chuckles. "thank you." she sighs, kissing your lips. you grin.

"thank you. y'know, most people have to deal with the opposite-- their partners forcin' them to shave before any intimacy at all... i'm glad you prefer the option that requires the least amount of work possible for me."

sevika giggles and kisses you. "i am pretty amazing, aren't i?" she asks. you nod.

"the fuckin' best." you agree.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[help-itrappedmyself]

Liminal Jason part 3

For those of you that saw the blip earlier, when I tried to post this but it broke cause it was too long, here is the real thing. Masterpost for earlier parts.

Sorry again. And slight tw for panic attack

Jason woke up slowly, taking in his surroundings as he adjusted to being awake. It was quiet, and a little humid. He was on a bed, could feel the sheets beneath him, and he wasn’t restrained at all. There was a moment of confusion, because when you wake up after being attacked like that you usually end up dead or a hostage. There was a creeping realization dawning in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. He opened his eyes, not wanting his suspicions to be true. But he was in a holding cell in the cave, and he realized what must have happened. Then he was pissed. 

He let out a growl, pushing to sit up on the bed. He thought they were doing better. He thought his family trusted him again. His growl was angry, foreboding, telling of the danger and anger in his thoughts. But his head was pounding from the sedative. They knew he hated needles. Hated drugs. Why would they do this to him, trick him like this when they knew how he felt about it. The haze in his head, making his thoughts heavy, and doing nothing but reminding him of all the harm drugs have done to the people around him. He stopped growling, hoping the quiet would help. Much less angry, the clouds in his head starting to make him sad and breathless. He hopes the effects wear off soon. He can’t focus. There is something important that he is missing. He is forgetting something, the spiral of his thoughts and emotions starting to lean towards hysteria. He’s alone. Trapped and alone, mind heavy with fog. He can’t think, why is he stuck here? His breath starts coming faster, increasing while his heart starts to race. He tries to keep quiet, and calm down. A whimper escapes him as he finds a corner and slides down the wall. Then he heard a keen. Close, probably coming from one of the other cells. The sound cuts through the haze. Important, a strike of clarity hitting him with a pulse as he remembers the kid. There was a kid with him. 

Danny. Jason hears him call out again, a sharp keen of panic-confusion, and Jason needs to help him. Jason stumbles up, leaning on the wall for support. He heads towards the door, but he was familiar with how the cells worked. He reached it and of course it was locked. He attempted to manually override, but the pad inside the cell was locked down. The cell can only be opened once someone on the inside clears whoever is inside it. Created for instances where one of them has been incapacitated by a new strain of fear gas, or a new Ivy concoction. To hold someone until an antidote can be created. There was no getting out of here before the other came by. 

Hopefully, they’re on their way now, seeing him awake on the cameras. Jason has some choice words to be had about his situation, angry seething inside him as the panic from earlier recedes. 

Danny lets out another keen, breathy and biting and Jason hears him start to panic. Jason still has to do what he can. He can’t reach him, but he can try and calm him down. They’re in this together, and Jason is going to do whatever he can for the kid. He let out a rumble, steady and calm in response to Danny’s cries. His rumble is filled with annoyance, but still said okay-here-safe. 

Danny is silent for a moment before he hums back a confused-trust. It’s closer, louder, like Danny has moved to be right on the other side of the wall from Jason. This kid, who just had his world destroyed, came here alone and afraid, and he trusts Jason. Screw yelling at the Bats. Danny needs him, and priority one is getting Danny to a place he can feel safe. 

A soft churring sound leaves Jason, sweet and caring, and Jason hopes the kid knows that he is going to do everything he can for him. Then Jason hears Danny let out a short purr, a quiet susurration, that ends as quickly as it starts. Jason is stunned by how much faith Danny is putting in him. How much Jason cares for this boy he just met. 

The bats can pry this boy out from his cold, dead hands.

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (Will x WifeReader)

Summary: It’s No Nut November and your hubby decided to join a ‘friendly’ office pool with his fellow suits.  Everything was going well until the heating/cooling at work breaks.  Drenched in sweat, his only thought is coming home and taking that long yearned for shower.  Which you are more than happy to give him with your tongue. 

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.  Sweat kink, one smexy dilf, yummy cinnamony/earthy taste, and…Will’s skilled fat dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

- You know you’re being obvious, not discreet at all.  Unable to stop staring since he came home from work this evening.  Watching intently at the way his powder blue shirt clings to his perspiring body; rides up to reveal the dewy crease of his hips; how the stains under his arms look so…scrumptious.

- “Come here…”  Will’s skin glistens, appears to shimmer in the soft flickering glow of candlelight.  “I only want a little…”  Eyes focus, tracking a drop of sweat roll from behind his ear; down his throat, his chest.  “Please…”  Splatters onto your cheek; trickles into your eagerly waiting, open mouth.  “Daddy…”

- Drunk off his essence, off his aroma.  Breathy moan escapes you when the familiar salty flavor coats your tongue yet again.  That cinnamony, earthy, distinct masculine scent fills your lungs once more.  A truly intoxicating cocktail, you’ve come to learn and love…crave and need.

- Opening wider, pressing your lips to his jugular.  Sloppily dragging across his pulse point; swirling, tracing the curve of his adam’s apple.  Collecting, enjoying each savory bead.  All the while greedily sucking, leaving pretty pink blotches in your wake.  Accepting each of his… 

- Steadily he thrusts, deep into your inviting warmth.  “Only a little, baby girl?”  Grunting, groaning; low, raspy voice rumbling through your tastebuds…the rest of your pleasure-weakened body. “Seems like a bit…extra than that.”

- “M-Mew,” you squeak happily, meekly.  Continuing to lap blissfully at his flushed flesh; gathering another small mouthful, letting it pool on the tip of your tongue.  “Sorry, didn’t me-mean to go so far…make y-you lose.”  Before hungrily swallowing it all, licking your lips.  Cooing in satisfaction…gaze locked with his.  “Y-you just taste too go-good, can’t hel-help myself.”

- “Don’t…was only a matter of time…until I cracked.”  Using his strength…his weight, Will pins you against the bed.  Driving you further into the soaked sheets; heat enveloping you, washing over.  Desperate moan escapes you, low growl from him.  The force behind those hips increasing, growing erratic; wild, almost feral.  Heavy, full balls slapping wetly against your bottom.  “Can’t keep me out of this perfect pussy…for long.”

- Crashing together, capturing your lips in a messy kiss.  Your legs weakly try to wrap tighter around, hike higher on his damp waist.  Fingers fumble, scramble for perches on his clammy back.  Only to slip, slide in a futile attempt to bring him even closer; to smother and drown yourself in his smell.  Pathetic whine bubbling up from you throat.

- Breaking apart, looming and hovering above.  “What's wrong…wifey?”  He pants, sputters; warm, labored puffs of air fan your face.  “Still want…more?”  While he prods, bruises your poor cervix.  Fat droplets raining onto your chin, neck…between your cleavage.

- Leaning forward, his tongue trails across the swell of your breast.  “Course you do…”  Ascending, sweeping up each bead along the path.  “Always want more of…”  Mixing it with his saliva, creating a tantalizing blend.  “Your hubby’s taste…”

- That he forces into your gaping maw, down your parched throat.  While drenching your trembling, shuddering walls with your third favorite delicacy.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @theoriginalsinner28, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @fredswrite, @anisangeldust, @catachlysmicjedi, @anakinstwinklebunny, @xhunnybeeex

@littlelamy, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @raiwpenl, @malinadbbdh, @strokingforyou26, @xspacexwitchx, @em-21, @hearts4sammonroe, @shouldbetakencareof2, @loxbbg, @supersoldatbarnesstuff, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @theoriginalsinner28, @dumb-slut-things, @indigoblues1207, @ald6518, @julxstrawberry, @wh0sl0ttie, @tojis-missing-arm, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @theladykassia, @doblasftcisco, @morguexmvp, @f4iryjinsworld, @nyxiesstuff, @heymamasblog, @justsomeimbicel, @prettywhenicry-777, @femme-is-typing, @maddis0n4, @ttdrake, @melmurkun, @brattyyybbg, @zara13ts, @bigaoibhe2024, @neocitywhore, @ter-luer, @ladyanaschmidt, @sarahflores07,  @death934, @dovepevensie, @adorebambie, @pookiswookis, @icecoldhearts, @elliemariscal, @allievalll, @moonlxght-tyler, @1-racha, @tosterwwannie, @inejghafawifesblog, @carlgrimeswifeofficial, @hellemo666, @pitas-star, @sapphirefrog-blog, @carlgrimeseyepatch, @melonmochi, @coldcupcakedinosaur, @juli007, @skyguy8108, @frogtowne, @jennasco, @nothinspecial1000, @burnthispls666, @dovepevensie, @xxxxxxctu, @abobiwan-kenobi, @kpopperotp12

[yizhou-time]

[ 20.08 ] mafia!hongjoong — hurt to comfort (?)

warning/s: mentions of kidnapping, is this a sickfic 😭

rina’s notes: LOOK WE ALL SAW IOMT I COULDNT NOT???? i havent proof read because i dont do that baddies trust their instinct :) also i love writing for hongjoong it's so easy because like omg i love him

“i’m a grown adult, san.” you frown at the man looming over you. he shakes his head and pulls his handkerchief out of his suit pocket. he considers handing it to you but watches you as you cough and moves to wipe your nose for you. “i’m an adult with a cold, you’re doing too much.”

he continues to wipe your nose, even hongjoong walks in. “an adult who was kept in a flooded basement. you wouldn’t be ill if you weren’t put in that situation. a situation that you were put in because of us. stop downplaing everything please.” he puts the handkerchief on your bedside cabinet and strokes your hair before walking out, giving you and your boyfriend some space.

the door softly clicks shut and hongjoong slowly teeters your way. he can’t bare to see you in a hospital bed and knowing it was his fault makes his heart hurt more. “i- you don’t deserve this.” he sits in the chair next to you and waits for you to finish your coughing fit before grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on the top. he keeps it close to him, resting his forehead on it as he apologises. “i’m so, very, sorry, my love.” he kisses your hand again and continues to whisper apologies.

you take your hand out of his grasp and place it on his cheek. “i’m too ill to be angry and in too much pain to be upset.” he leans into your hand and turns his head to kiss your palm. “finding out about your little business through men who took me off the street wasn’t great but, hey, what can we do.” you laugh quietly, trying to find some comfort in joking however hongjoong being here was much more comforting.

“i promise i was going to tell you, i needed to so you could have someone with you but i didn’t and now-.” he reaches up and pushes hair stuck to your head behind your ear. “in all honesty, i wasn’t sure if we would be able to continue this dance we were doing. my heart wanted to but my head worried about things like this and look what happened.”

you shake your head at him. “you can’t talk about leaving me now.” he watches as tears well up in your eyes. “too much is going on for you to talk about that now, not when we need each other the most. who’s going to cuddle you at night when you’re already too hot? who’s going to bring me jelly when i’m upset?” his stoic face cracks a small smile and you giggle quietly.

“who’s going to be doing all that, huh?” he leans further into your hand and you stroke his cheek, mirroring his smile. you pull away from him and move across the bed to make more room, hongjoong gets the message almost immediately and stands up to join you. he pushes the duvet out of the way and lays down next to you.

he covers himself with the duvet and opens his arms for you to place your head on his chest, you do just that and wrap an arm around him. hongjoong hugs you and kisses the top of your head with a small frown. “let’s hope next time you’re ill it’s because you want to kiss in the rain again.”

his steady heartbeat is enough to lull you into a deep sleep quickly, after all you’ve been very busy these past few days and ending it in your boyfriend’s arms was all you could ask for now. he listens to your somewhat soft breaths and it’s music to his ears. you probably will wake up with a sore throat tomorrow and more sick than you were today but he’d rather you were sick with him than alone in your house or stuck in that basement. once he’s sure you’re down for good he closes his eyes, regardless of how uncomfortable he is all he’s needed the three nights without you is to have you back in his arms.

yeosang, yunho and seonghwa stand outside the small room, watching through the glass window on the door. small smiles fall on their faces as they watch their fierce leader fall into a state of tranquil. it was the calmest they’d ever seen him. they hadn’t seen your more intimate moments, san had been the only one to properly get to know you while the rest had only met you when hongjoong dropped you home or he was being dropped off to meet you. seeing him cuddled up was odd but it was what he deserved.

“his suit’s going to be creased.” yeosang shakes his head, still smiling.

“yeah, but he’ll buy a new one.” yunho looks at his friend then the couple.

seonghwa observes the scene in front of him. everything was right now, they were altogether. “come on, let’s get cleaned up and we can sort through everything tomorrow. i’m sure hongjoong wants to be there for it.”

[alisdarkwrites]

Yan! Oikawa and iwa Drabble <3

Fem pov

Tw: noncon, stalking, yandere behavior/themes, drugging, bullying, implied murder briefly mentioned, they put their cum into the drink (is that a tw?)

A/n: I feel like I talked weird in this but I kinda enjoy it and ahhhhh I’ve been gone so longggggg

Mdni

Everything is under the cut!

Oikawa falling inlove with someone so unpopular and insignificant to him that he can’t help but ask himself why? Why fall for her?

To cope with it Oikawa starts to make fun of her. The way she looks, dresses, acts. Despite the fact that he loves every single one of these things.

When he finds out iwaizumi feels the same way about her he isn’t happy at first. But as their feelings for poor, unsuspecting girl they have a crush on spiral into mad obsession they can’t help but work together.

Oikawa has some of his more insane, deluded fan girls stalk his darling, while iwaizumi takes out the trash. He scares off any potential suitors, whether by threatening them, or a more permanent solution.

Of course this isn’t enough! So oikawa throws a party, inviting everyone including his darling.

It’s perfect!

He has iwaizumi go up to her, acting all nice. Iwaizumi flirts with her a little bit and then offers to get her a drink. Once he goes off he has oikawa get the special little drink they made for her <3

They know it’s terrible, putting a sedative and a tiny bit of their cum into the drink but it’s ok… you’ll forgive them right?

Iwaizumi goes back to you, all kind and sweet, it’s to bad you don’t notice that gleam in his eye.

Once it finally kicks in, he asks if you need some rest. Of course you accept. Iwaizumi would never do anything bad right?

He brings you to oikawa bedroom, gently placing you on the bed. He leaves, locking the door behind him. You can’t help but drift into a deep, deep sleep…

When you wake up you can barely move. It’s hard to open your eyes but when you eventually do you see Oikawa in front of you. He beams at seeing you wake up. You feel someone wrap their forearm around your neck, putting you in a chokehold. You look up and realize it’s Iwaizumi.

You try to escape but your limbs feel so, so heavy. Iwaizumi grabs your arms, holding both of the with only one of his hands, pressing them out against your stomach. That’s when you realize that you were naked.

You started to freak out, begging them to stop and give you your clothes back. But oikawa just laughs and rubs you on the head.

Oikawa removes all of his clothes, gently pressing his cock against your hole. You beg him, beg and beg and beg him to not do this but nothing you say detours him.

He forces himself in

It’s painful, a burning sensation. It hurts before it’s even all the way in. Your telling him that he’s to big, that it hurts, but he just kisses you on the head.

His pace doesn’t make it any better. The second he thinks you’ve had enough time to adjust he pulls out most of the way. You feel relieved for a few seconds before he slams back in.

It goes on for hours, constant begging for it to stop and him mercilessly thrusting into you. Iwaizumi just kisses you, telling you that it’s ok <3

[littlestarbigsky]

i fear the only thing i can write anymore is the curtis boys as kids BUT PLS THEYRE EVERYTHING TO ME and also they’re so tragic once they get older i love when they can just be happy :((

that being said, here is toddler ponyboy getting sick and darry being a little hero❤️‍🩹

darry heard ponyboy crying before the toddler had pushed the bedroom door open. he sat up in bed, careful not to ruffle the blankets covering soda. it already took him long enough to fall asleep, he didn’t need darry waking him up in the middle of the night.

darry’s eyes landed on his little brother standing in the patch of moonlight shining through the window, his face flooded with tears and his bottom lip trembling. he had thrown his too-small baby blanket around his shoulders in an effort to keep himself warm, and darry quickly realized it was because he was no longer in his pajamas.

“oh, pony,” darry reached down and grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed. “c’mere, you’re gonna freeze.”

pony ran over to him and jumped up into darry’s arms, letting his big brother wrap him up in the warm blanket. darry pulled pony into his lap, holding him close. every inch of pony’s skin was drenched in cold sweat and darry could feel him trembling.

“hey, it’s okay, can you tell me what happened?” darry tucked pony’s head under his chin, enveloping his baby brother in as much warmth as he could, even though his skin was already hot to the touch, which didn’t do much to ease darry’s growing anxiety.

“i…” he sniffled, his voice trembling. “i threw up…”

“in your bed?” darry asked gently, and ponyboy nodded nervously, his watering eyes like huge glass orbs in the moonlight. “oh baby, i’m so sorry.”

“i don’t feel good,” pony hiccuped.

“no, i bet you don’t,” darry soothed, rubbing pony’s back and rocking them gently. “is that what happened to your pj’s?”

pony nodded and gave a shaky sob, burying his face in the front of darry’s shirt, “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!”

“hey, hey,” darry held pony’s face in his hand and met his eyes. “you’re sick, it’s not your fault, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“i didn’t want to! i… i…”

“breathe,” darry took an exaggerated breath that he knew pony would copy, trying to keep him calm as he pressed pony’s head to his heart while they breathed together. “don’t worry. you’re okay, it’s all over now, you don’t have to be scared.”

darry let ponyboy wear himself out crying before trying to remedy the situation. he was laying limply against darry by the time he had calmed himself down.

“how about this,” darry started, shuffling pony so that they could look at each other. “let’s get you a bath to get you feeling a little better and i’ll take care of your sheets. that sound okay?”

pony sniffled but eventually nodded, and darry scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom. in the dim light from the vanity, darry could see how miserable pony looked. his hair was almost slicked back with sweat, his skin was hot and clammy, and his nose and eyes were red and puffy.

after making sure the blanket was still securely wrapped around his brother, darry turned on the water, letting it run and warm up for a few moments before shutting off the drain. he turned back to ponyboy and smiled weakly, “i’m gonna go get some things for you, yell if you need me, okay?”

pony nodded, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

darry hurried out of the bathroom, throwing a couple towels into the dryer to warm up and stopping in the kitchen to pour each of them a glass of water, sticking a bendy straw into pony’s cup. when he came back, pony had gotten out of the rest of his clothes and was leaning his head against the wall with the blanket pulled over him, a hand over his stomach and his eyes glazed over.

darry knelt down in front of him, “can you drink some of this for me?”

pony whimpered, “…don’t wanna get sick again.”

“it’s just water, kiddo, it’ll help you feel better,” darry held up the cup for him, and he reluctantly leaned forward and took a small sip.

“there you go, good job, honey,” darry smiled at him, setting the cup down on the sink and turning off the tap. “i think your bath is all ready.”

ponyboy held out his arms and darry gently picked him up and set him down in the water, watching some of the tension in his face instantly dissolving. darry let pony sit in the hot water for a few minutes before he started helping him get cleaned up, swiping some of their mother’s sweet scented shower gel.

it was a mark of how awful pony was feeling that he didn’t complain that darry hadn’t put in any bubble bath or given him any toys, didn’t try to splash darry like he always did or complain about the water temperature. he just sat quietly and let darry help him, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back as darry washed his hair.

“look at you with your hair all slicked back,” darry smiled as he rinsed shampoo out of his little brother’s hair. “someone’s gonna mistake you for a greaser.”

pony gave him a weak smile and a short puff of breath that might have been a vague attempt at a laugh. darry could see his eyelids drooping the longer he stayed in the water, the perfume of the soaps heavy in the air and making both of them feel drowsy and dizzy.

“darry?” a new voice came from the doorway behind them. darry turned around to see soda standing and watching them, a blanket around his shoulders and his stuffed dog under his arm. “what’re you doing?”

“hey, pepsi,” darry gave soda half a smile. “i’m just helping pony, he’s not feeling so hot. you can go back to sleep, i’ll be there soon.”

soda’s eyes softened as his eyes locked on ponyboy, head leaned against the side of the tub and fighting to keep his eyes open. soda didn’t listen to darry, instead, he came over and sat down next to ponyboy, holding his hand gently.

“oh, darry, he’s gonna fall asleep right here,” he whispered. “it’s okay, honey, we all get sick sometimes.”

darry dried his hands quickly and set a hand on soda’s shoulder, “can you sit with him for a minute? i just want to get his sheets in the washer.”

soda nodded, reaching up to swipe away some of the water before it could drip into pony’s eyes. darry could hear them babbling tiredly to each other as he left, which eased some of the tension in his chest; maybe pony was feeling a little better, maybe he was helping.

he hurried back to the nursery and stripped off the bedding and grabbed pony’s pajamas off the floor, carefully bundling them all up and throwing it in the washer. he grabbed the warmed up towels from the dryer before heading back to the bathroom, stopping when he saw someone standing in the hallway.

“…hi mama.”

“darry, it’s so late, what are you doing up?”

she closed the gap between them and gently combed his hair out of his eyes before kneeling down so she was eye level with him.

he shuffled his feet nervously, “pony threw up, i was just helping him out.”

“you could have gotten me, honey,” she chuckled. “you don’t need to take care of all that yourself.”

“i know, he was so upset though…”

mama sighed, “where is he now?”

“in the bath,” darry shrugged. “he was all sweaty and shaky, i thought it would help.”

she kissed his forehead gently, “you did everything right. thank you, sweetheart, i’ve got it from here.”

he handed her one of the towels and followed her closely back to the bathroom. when they pushed the door open, soda’s arms were folded on the edge of the bathtub, pillowing pony’s head from the hard ceramic. pony’s eyes were closed and his breaths were deep.

soda turned around when he heard the door open, shushing them, “shh, he’s asleep.”

“oh, sweetheart,” mama hurried forward, knelt down next to soda, and pulled the drain out of the tub. “don’t tell me all of you are awake.”

“shh!” he shushed her louder.

“he can’t stay in the bathtub all night, soda,” she smiled at him. she reached over and gently tapped pony on the shoulder. “ponyboy, c’mon you’ve gotta get back to bed.”

pony’s eyes blinked open, and he seemed confused until he eyes landed on mama and he reached his arms out for her. she smiled sweetly at him and scooped him up with the towel and pulled him into her lap, not minding when he leaned his dripping hair against her chest. he drowned in the material, the towel four times too big for him. he snuggled into her and the warm towel, his little feet kicking soda absentmindedly.

“darry tells me you aren’t feeling well,” she rocked with him gently. “some tummy trouble, maybe?”

pony’s anxiety at her words was palpable, “i… i didn’t…”

“it’s okay,” she ran a hand through his hair. “i’m not mad, i just worry about you, baby.”

she reached up and grabbed his water cup from the sink, giving him the straw and letting him drink a little bit.

“you should all be asleep,” she set the cup back on the sink. “you two, go back to your room, i’ll come check on you soon.”

she stood up and sat ponyboy on the sink, starting to dry him off the rest of the way. darry motioned for soda to come along and they dragged themselves back to their room, exhaustion hitting both of them like a truck. darry pushed the covers back for soda and wasn’t shocked when his little brother burrowed into his arms.

after a few minutes, darry heard their door open and mama stood in their doorway with ponyboy on her hip in a fresh set of pajamas, looking like he was a few seconds away from falling asleep. she came over to the bed and adjusted the covers around both of them and pressed a kiss to both of their heads.

pony leaned forward, reaching for darry, so far that he fell out of mama’s arms and between darry and soda on the bed.

“baby, your brothers need to sleep,” she sighed, going to pick him up, but pony only dove between darry and soda.

“i wanna stay,” he whimpered, starting to tuck himself under their blankets.

mama sighed, “is it alright if your brother stays here tonight?”

darry and soda both nodded, scooting closer to ponyboy under the blankets and thoroughly sandwiching him between them.

“okay, then,” mama conceded. “i’ll see you in the morning, i love you.”

she ruffled ponyboy’s hair gently and left the room quietly.

“alright, baby, you get to stay with us, but you’ve gotta sleep, you need the rest to get better, yeah?” darry whispered, smiling as pony snuggled into his big brother.

“mmm, ‘kay,” pony mumbled, already almost asleep.

“yeah, and no throwing up on us!” soda joked, but he threw an arm over pony and flopped down onto the pillow.

they were all fast asleep within a few minutes.

[meracyn]

hi can you please write a one shot of kwon x fem! reader who has strict parents and one day kwon helps her escape her house to go with him? tysm if you do this!

TRAPPED || kwon jae-sung

a/n: ok guys by tomorrow im gonna be editing these posts and make them actually worth looking at, no lazing off this time 😭 but i like this idea actually. ive heard some songs that would relate to a scenario like this, whoever you are anon, ur a genius fr

The tension in your house was unbearable.

Your parents, being both professionals, always pushed you to meet their expectations. They barely gave you freedom, let alone make your own choices as you grew up.

It felt so suffocating, so tiring. You were so sure you would end up going crazy any day by now.

What kind of parents were so strict they always had to monitor every. single. thing of their child’s life?

Yours.

And that was why you couldn’t wait to escape.

The night was thick with silence, creating a heavy atmosphere. You laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling before turning your head to the side, where the window was.

The moon hung low in the sky— a soft, silvery glow adorning the rows of houses underneath. You got up slowly, careful not to wake your parents. The walls were pretty thin, which only made it more difficult for you to have privacy, as they could hear almost every little thing you would do.

As you got closer, you opened it. The cool, chilly air embracing your body as the breeze played with your hair.

Outside your window, the world was silent. The leaves swayed gently on the trees, the streetlights being dim and faint in the distance, barely cutting through the darkness.

You began to think. About your future, your parents, and your boyfriend,

Kwon Jae-Sung.

It seemed impossible to get into a relationship due to your overbearing parents, but you managed somehow, and haven’t gotten caught so far– which made it the perfect reason to leave.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the rush of adrenaline clashing with the quiet serenity of the night. Would it be worth the risk? Leave behind your future, your goals, everything just for some silly romance?

Every step you took felt like glass so fragile, that with one little mistake, would break.

You focused again on the scenery outside, just beyond the houses, staring at the open gate in front of you. So close, yet so far away at the same time.

The night seemed to be endless, full of possibilities—if you just took another step.

And you did.

Cautiously going back to your bed, you picked up your phone, just as you received a new message—it was him.

I’m outside. Can you get out on your own or need help?

Stay there. Your fingers quickly tapped the screen. I can manage

This was it. There was no turning back now.

Grabbing your bag and shoes on, you took a deep breath and began to climb out the window, heartbeat pounding in your ears with each movement you took. You held onto a nearby tree before stepping down, finally touching the ground.

Without bothering to look back, you ran away.

Kwon was standing outside of the car, a smile forming on his face as he noticed you.

“You made it,” He said softly, holding onto your hand as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. “I don’t know what the hell is going to happen now,” You blurted out, having mixed feelings between anxiety and excitement.

“I told you I’d get you out. ” He whispered, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. “And I will.”

As you both got in the car, Kwon started the engine, driving away. You looked back at your house one last time.

For the first time in years, you finally felt free.

[hevs-dreamworld]

Iris:

“Hmm, if I had to explain my day in the life. Before I moved in with Nazo and Seelkadoom, I usually got up at around 2-3PM and start doing my skincare and hair. Depending on the day, I’d also use that time to get any shedding scales off my face, arms, and tail. Once done I would get ready for anything I had planned that day. If it’s a day off, I’d go hang around the city and get some tea at my favorite cafe. I can’t say where, because I don’t know who’s around me at the moment. Either that or I’d hang around my friends, or go visit people at the homeless shelters and orphanages. The little ones at the orphanage always have amazing ideas for their home. I just hope I can give enough support to where they can grow up healthy and let their dreams become reality.”

“If it’s a work night? I’d get dressed up for work, let my makeup artist do my makeup as I do vocal warm-ups, and then go perform. Afterwards I go visit with my regulars and then go through all the gifts with my boss, clock out, and go home at around 6:00AM. Get home at around 7-8:00AM, do my skincare, then go to sleep. My skincare schedule fluctuates, but I try not to skip a day.”

“With Nazo and Seelkadoom, it’s pretty much the same, but I wake up later than the other two, and Seelkadoom goes to work with me since we have a similar schedule. However, I noticed that me and the whole group of villains have gotten closer the past couple of months.. I’m glad they’re starting to trust me at least a little bit!”

Nazo:

“I usually get up pretty early to pick up Iris and seelkadoom. They both get off work at around 7:00AM. Whenever Iris goes to bed, me and seelka tend to train for a couple of hours at our gymnasium. It’s small, but it’s proofed to the maximum possible standard for our levels of power. It’s also been recently sound proofed since we’re going to be hosting a lot of events this year. Once done with training and seelka goes to bed, I get into my workings. Get in contact with anyone who sends me out a contract to help with anyone particularly dangerous, check on the event venues I have reserved for the year, quick check on the market to see what’s happening, and then I go do my daily care. If I don’t have any emergency contracts, I tend to take my time and enjoy a glass of tea and read some books about history. If I have no contracts that day, then I spend it with seelka and the others. Otherwise I spend a lot of time reading, drawing, writing, anything to really fill in the time. Although, recently me and seelkadoom have noticed that we’ve been hanging around Iris a lot. Honestly. I’ve been going out a lot more because of her, and it’s helped me get to know her more as a person than just a guest. It feels nice, knowing she’s warming up to us. I mean, even with the weird sleep schedules, we always find a way to spend time together, and I can appreciate that.”

Seelkadoom:

“Much like Iris, I wake up pretty late in the afternoon and do my daily tasks. Chores, checking emails from the office, and checking the work group chat and see what happened when me and Iris are out. I’m telling you, stuff gets quite spicy when we’re not there. Anyways, I usually then get dressed and head out to whatever errands needed to be run. I usually do this with Nazo, but sometimes Iris tags along to get a look at the upper city she hasn’t seen yet. Don’t get me wrong, the lower city is gorgeous, it’s arguably prettier and safer than the upper city. However, the upper city is usually reserved for the ultra wealthy, but it’s also the busiest part of the city due to a lot of the shopping being there. So, it gives her an excuse to explore while we do errands! Once that’s done, I get ready for work and Me and Iris head to the casino!”

——————————

@hunniegl4zed @thebreadmeower @sonic-au-collision

for the characters!! how would u describe ur day to day life??

First question for the characters!!

[striveattemptfail]

maybe it's a little too early (to know if this is gonna work) | Logan Howlett/Wade Wilson, 5.2k, M

@poolverine-week: Day 6 – Sharing Clothes

Summary: Five times Wade steals wears Logan's clothes, and one time Logan wears Wade's suit. Rated for allusions to sex, but nothing explicit. Takes place some time after the movie’s events; assume Logan and Wade are back-up X-Men. Read on Ao3

A/N: Thank you to B @broosepayne for helping out with random details + thank you to @fuckselfloveihatemyself for suggesting "impersonation" for the final scene. Shout out to the Manga Hoes server for listening to me bitch about finishing this fic lol. Un-beta'd and I apologize /o\ Title from You Look Good In My Shirt by Keith Urban—just be grateful I didn't give this fic the exact same name lmaooo

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Nothing / Wearing Wade’s Clothes ]

The first morning he wakes up in Wade’s timeline—his new universe—Logan has on nothing but a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a pair of highlighter pink Hello Kitty boxers. He desperately needs something to wear aside from what are basically undergarments because he came into this world with nothing but his X-Men suit.

Or what’s left of it anyway.

Which is why, once he finally gets up from the pull-out bed, he sees Wade trying on the jacket that the TVA gave him after they destroyed the Time Ripper. Wade is in front of the only full-size mirror in the apartment, twisting his body every which way to inspect the jacket.

Then, he catches Logan’s reflection in the mirror.

“Morning, peanut!” he greets, turning around to face him with a smile. “I’m trying this on to see how it fits on me.”

“Uh, yeah. I see that,” Logan says with brows furrowed. “Why?”

“I was thinking about grabbing you some clothes but need a reference for your size.”

“Bub, that jacket is too big even for me.”

“...okay, yeah,” Wade eventually concedes, “but it’s the only thing you own that isn’t shredded to pieces from the Time Ripper.”

Unfortunately, the moron has a point. As it is, the boxers Wade loaned him are a bit tight on his waist, and the collar of the shirt is snug on his neck, but it’s not like Logan’s in any position to complain.

“I have to swing by Target to grab supplies for Dogpool anyway,” Wade continues before making kissy faces at the dog in question. “We need to get you some treats, huh, little missy? Yeah! And then we’ll get honey badger some clothes that actually fit him!”

And, well, it’s not like Logan is keen on stepping outside of this apartment in the brightest colour he’s ever worn in his over 200-year existence. It’s also not like he even has the funds to buy himself a hotdog from the street vendor around the corner, much less purchase anything for a new wardrobe. So if Wade wants to go out and buy some clothes for him, Logan isn’t going to stop him.

He grunts his assent as he makes his way to the kitchen, muttering a gruff Fine as he starts on a cup of coffee.

Later, when Wade leaves for Target, Logan grabs the now tossed aside TVA jacket.

If he happens to take a sniff of it once Wade’s out the door (inhaling the scent of cloyingly sweet body wash, hot sauce, and something Logan is fast recognizing as Wade), it’s simply because he wants to know whether it already stinks after yesterday’s events.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: One Load of Staples ]

Luckily for Logan, Peter and Dopinder volunteered to help Wade clothes shop when he went to Target. Apparently, Wade wanted to buy all sorts of brightly coloured cutesy shit—like much of his own clothing, allegedly so the two of them could match—but Peter and Dopinder manage to rein him in and grab a few staples. T-shirts, jeans, sweatpants, boxers, socks, and a pair of shoes that’ll fall apart in about a month if Logan has to guess.

It’s enough for him to survive on until he can buy more clothes, and enough to produce a load of laundry once the day arrives. Luckily, the apartment has a washer-dryer combo in the unit, so he finishes the single, meagre load of clothes he owns in no time. He’s bringing them to the bedroom to put away when he finds Wade already inside, standing there in nothing but the smallest pair of tighty-whities Logan’s ever seen on a man.

“What the fuck,” is all he can say.

“Hey, honey badger!” Wade greets, normal as ever, as if he’s not exposing miles of skin and taut muscle that Logan would love to—

He messily dumps his clothes onto the bed, scowling at Wade.

“Why the fuck are you naked?” he demands.

“Oh, please, I’m hiding all the goods,” Wade brushes him off. He turns back to the heap of clothes on the hamper, presumably to find something that doesn’t smell like wet dog or weeks old nastiness.

Shit. The damn briefs aren’t even large enough to completely cover Wade’s ass, and Logan can see a hint of cheeks peeking through.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Logan rolls his eyes, hoping that his frown hides the conflict inside him.

With a smirk that can only spell trouble, Wade faces him again to thumb at the waistband of his underwear. “Would you rather I take them off?”

Logan growls, averting his gaze to the small mound of clothes he has to put away. He angrily starts folding things, breath coming out in huffs that he hopes convey annoyance.

“Jeez, who pissed in your coffee this morning, kitty cat?” Wade complains, letting go of the waistband. “It’s not like I’m rubbing one out in front of you.”

“Shut the fuck up, bub,” Logan spits, throwing down another folded shirt.

The problem—like most things—is because of Wade.

It’s hard enough to share any amount of space with him, much less sleep in the same bed together every night, and Logan’s only a man. He might be too proud to admit it out loud (especially to a blabber mouth like Wade), but god fucking damnit somehow the fucker’s gotten under his skin. He makes Logan crave for more than innocently spooning in the early hours of the morning, want more than stolen glances when he thinks Wade isn’t looking.

It doesn’t help that Wade flirts with him constantly. People used to chastise Logan for how aggressively he pursued Jean back in the day. Now, he knows it’s nothing compared to the constant boner Wade has towards anything that speaks to him.

Logan needs to stop this train of thought—thinking about Wade’s boner is only going encourage his own.

“So, why are you naked?” he asks, probably angrier than acceptable for a conversation like this but, fuck, does Wade bring out the asshole in him.

“Technically, I’m not—”

“Fine, almost naked, you annoying prick.”

He looks up to find Wade with narrowed eyes, shooting him a dubious look that can only say, Are you serious?

“Obviooouslyyy,” he drawls out, rifling through the hamper again, “I thought I had more clothes left.”

Logan looks at the mountain Wade’s digging through. “Wait, you’re completely out of clean clothes? How the fuck did that happen?”

“I don’t know!” Wade throws his hands up in exasperation. “Ask the author!”

“I have no idea what that means,” he admits. “Anyway, why are you only in underwear?”

“What? You want me to steal some of Blind Al’s shit?” Wade pauses then, clearly mulling it over. “Actually, now that I think about it, her tracksuits would look great on me. They’d fit like baby clothes on a high schooler but it could be like a Y2K revival. Juicy Couture à la Wade. I’d smell like mothballs and old lady all day but it’d be worth it, I think!” He ends the rambling with a toothy grin.

Logan doesn’t dignify that with a response. He scrubs a hand over his face with a sigh.

“Just... put on some damn clothes, bub.”

“Fine.”

Wade—probably in an attempt to piss him the fuck off, as usual—stares at him with a piercing gaze, maintaining eye contact with Logan as he grabs a white t-shirt from the folded pile and slides it on.

Logan just glares at him, jaw clenching tight.

The worst part is that he’s not even mad that Wade’s grabbing shit that he just folded. For some fucking reason, there’s a small but very loud part of Logan deeply satisfied to see Wade in his clothes again. He hasn’t worn anything of Logan’s since trying on the TVA jacket that first day home, but seeing him in one of Logan’s tees is apparently doing something for him.

Wade spins in place, and Logan notices that the hem of the t-shirt barely covers Wade’s crotch, skims the peak of Wade’s pert ass. Once he faces Logan again, he pinches the sides of the shirt like he’s holding a skirt, dipping into a small curtsy.

“Is that better, oh, prudent majesty?” he taunts.

Logan finally snaps.

Before he’s even conscious of it, he’s striding over to where Wade is still staring at him, his expression turning confused though still playful.

“Woah, big boy, I didn’t think you’d be that pissed—”

Logan grabs his face and cuts him off with a kiss, Wade making a surprised noise against his mouth before finally kissing back. Even though Logan is leading, Wade still gives as good as gets, his tongue darting into the cavern of Logan’s mouth when he gasps for air. He’s not sure how long they suck face for, but when Logan finally pulls away, a satisfied noise rumbles through his chest at Wade’s stunned but amused face.

“Finally got you to shut up,” Logan teases, words coming out shallow and thin.

“Oh, it’ll take a lot more than that, old man,” Wade quips back, and another purr builds in Logan’s chest when he hears the gravel in Wade’s voice. Wade throws his arms over Logan’s shoulders and crashes their lips together again.

Neither of their laundry gets finished for a long while after that, both of them too caught up in seeking pleasure from each other. Most of Logan’s freshly laundered clothes lie wrinkled on the bed for hours until he remembers to put them away. Wade doesn’t even start on his own laundry until Logan tells him that Althea would definitely kick his ass if he wore her stuff.

But he continues wearing Logan’s shirt until his own clothes are finally clean, so Logan can’t complain at all.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Half Complete + A New Suit ]

They’re suiting up for an X-Men mission when Wade snatches the Wolverine cowl before Logan can put it on. He’s still in the middle of zipping up when he spots Wade grabbing it out of the corner of his eye, and he doesn’t even need to turn around to know that the dipshit’s already wearing it.

“Give it back,” he says absentmindedly, buckling in the last straps of his suit.

He turns around and shoots Wade a flat look, correct in his assumption that Wade put it on. Typical Wade, he’s wearing his Deadpool mask underneath the Wolverine cowl.

“How do I look?” Wade asks, voice lilting with anticipation.

He looks like someone threw up primary colours on his head and decided to call it a mask.

“You look like someone threw up primary colours on your head and decided to call it a mask.”

Wade gasps, clearly offended. “Rude!”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Just hand me my fuckin’ cowl, bub.”

“Mmmmm, no.”

He never makes shit easy. Logan can only sigh.

“Wade, we gotta leave for the mission brief,” Logan reminds him. They’re about to leave on time for once, and that never happens. “Gimme my goddamn cowl.”

Wade ignores him, as he often does, sauntering over to Logan with a sway in his hips, and Logan quirks a brow at him. He knows what that walk means, and suddenly heading to the X-Mansion for a mission is becoming the last thing on his mind.

Wade drapes his arms over Logan’s shoulders, and Logan automatically places his hands on Wade’s hips. Even beneath both masks, Logan can tell that Wade is waggling his non-existent eyebrows at him once they’re pressed close together. “Wanna inspect the wind resistance on these blowjob handles yourself, peanut?”

Logan snorts. “No, because I don’t wanna see my own mask sucking my dick.”

“Aww,” Wade whines, and Logan can hear the pout in his voice even if he can’t see it, “you’re no fun!”

“‘Sides,” Logan murmurs in his ear, low and sultry, as he pulls Wade closer, “I like seeing your face when we’re together, bub.”

He moves a hand from Wade’s waist to slightly lift his Deadpool mask at the collar. He then ducks his face into the curve where Wade’s neck meets shoulder, mouthing at the now exposed skin there. He smirks when he feels the catch in Wade’s throat.

“I thought we had to leave for the mission brief?” Wade mocks, but it comes out breathy and very pleased by the turn of events.

Logan hums mischievously, nipping at Wade’s neck. “Don’t give a shit anymore.”

“Cool cool cool,” Wade babbles, body pressing against Logan’s, all hot and eager. “I just—oh, fuck, honey badger—I was just thinking—”

“If yer thinking, then I ain’t doin’ this right,” he grumbles, words starting to slur together because there’s something else he’d much rather be doing with his mouth. The hand he still has on Wade’s waist travels to his crotch. Wade bucks his hips into Logan’s open palm with a husky groan, already half-hard.

“You’re doing everything so, so right,” Wade gasps, hips rutting into his grip. “It’s just—ngh—you better be the one taking off this suit, because I did not spend five whole minutes and half a thing of baby powder squeezing my ass into it just to—oh, shit!—strip it off again.”

With a final lick to his pulse point, Logan pulls away just enough to look at Wade. He smirks at the way Wade is panting, puffs of breath hitting his face in needy bursts despite the fabric covering Wade’s mouth.

“I gotta take off your clothes?” he confirms. Wade nods jerkily. “S’not a problem with me.”

And he drops to his knees, unbuckling Wade’s utility belt to do just that.

They do eventually get to the X-Mansion—just 30 minutes late, and they completely miss the briefing. Colossus looks at both of them in disappointment when he relays the abridged version of the mission objectives while they fly to their destination on the X-Jet. Frankly, Logan only half listens to the giant, completely unapologetic in his lack of focus. Being distracted is well worth it as he mulls over the events of the past hour.

Because Logan discovers that, while he might not get off on seeing his own cowl blowing him, he doesn’t mind when he’s on his knees looking up to see it thrown back in pleasure.

At least as long as Wade’s the one wearing it.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Signature Items Acquired ]

The next time they leave together, it’s to meet Vanessa and Dermot for bowling. Logan’s ready before Wade is, waiting in the living room because apparently how long it takes Wade to decide on an outfit completely depends on how he’s feeling.

Thankfully, today isn’t too awful. He’d only worn the Deadpool mask in the morning because he, quote, “felt like skewered chicken intestines,” and nearly cancelled on bowling altogether. But after an orgasm from Logan and cuddling from Mary Puppins, his mood had turned around.

All of which means that Wade is now in a mad dash pulling an outfit together. Logan knows better than to try and help him or force him to hurry up, so he’s left on the couch quietly grumbling to Mary about how he thinks Wade looks good in basically everything he wears.

He’s proven absolutely right when Wade finally steps out of the bedroom. Logan barely registers the full outfit because he’s completely focused on one item.

“How do I look?” Wade asks with a sly grin, walking over to the mirror to inspect himself. He twirls in front of his reflection while smoothing down the leather of the jacket he’s wearing.

Logan’s jacket.

He’s unable to put words together with the way his brain is currently short-circuiting. He grunts in response anyway, knowing that Wade will keep talking even if he doesn’t reply verbally.

He’s proven right yet again because Wade continues without missing a beat. “You think I should switch styles? Give yours back and get my own? Jackets aren’t really my thing though... Oh! What if I got a cape instead? It’d help for ‘no capes’ AUs to actually shed a cape, huh? Has there ever been a DP with a cape? I don’t remember seeing one when we fought the Corps.”

He hums a contemplative sound as Logan stands up from the couch, making his way over to Wade.

“Maybe I need to test trial this,” he continues to ramble, “maybe I can borrow Cable’s shawl-cape thing!”

Even Logan is surprised when he immediately interrupts Wade’s babbling with a stern: “No.”

Wade’s eyes snap to his, confused by the sudden harshness and increased volume in his tone. He makes a questioning noise and shoots Logan a displeased look.

Remembering that Wade will only ramp up how annoying he is if Logan bosses him around, he shakes his head and tries again. “I mean, just—you can, uh, keep mine.”

He clears his throat, eyes darting away to take in how the jacket fits on Wade. It’s a little loose on him, a little too broad because Logan’s chest is a bit wider than his, but it sits well on his frame nonetheless. After awkwardly patting Wade on the shoulder, Logan’s hand slides to Wade’s bicep, then down to cuff where Logan thumbs at the leather there. His fingers bump Wade’s hand and he feels electrified by the touch.

When their eyes meet again, Logan’s relieved to find Wade’s face as red as his own cheeks feel. He’s not entirely sure who leans in first but their lips meet halfway. The kiss isn’t demanding or dirty, neither of them trying to turn it into something that would lead to sex for once. It’s different from when they usually make out, just soft and lingering, and Wade gasps when Logan’s tongue gently licks at the seam of his lips.

At some point, they wrap their arms around each other, because when they finally part for air Wade’s cupping Logan’s jaw and his hands are on the small of Wade’s back.

He eventually grumbles out, “Keep it, it suits you.”

“Oh.”

It takes a moment for Wade to shake the dazed look off his face, but he recovers by flashing Logan a knowing grin. Logan rolls his eyes fondly.

Of course, the little shit did it on purpose. He should’ve known the moment Wade stepped out with that giant smile.

Afterwards, when they finally meet with Vanessa and Dermot at the bowling alley, Vanessa’s smirk and raised eyebrow are well worth it because Wade keeps the jacket on.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Full Closet ]

Logan’s been gone for almost a month because of an extended X-Men mission. Between stakeouts, recon, strategizing, and actually nabbing the bad guy, it’s the longest he’s been away since Wade and Althea’s apartment became his home.

He walks in and unceremoniously dumps his duffle bag and the rest of shit by his shoes, throwing his keys on the sidetable by the door. Despite it being well into the afternoon, the apartment is surprisingly quiet. He figures Althea is out for “bingo” (likely a coke exchange) but Wade and Mary Puppins’ lack of noise makes him suspicious.

Until he hears the snoring.

He pads over to the pull-out bed to find Wade and Mary napping together. Wade’s curled around her, snoring with his face buried in her very sparse amount of fur, and Mary’s tongue sticks out as she huffs out quiet, little snuffles of her own.

But what catches Logan’s attention is Wade wearing one of his flannels.

It’s one of the thickest he owns, made for colder weather and blistery autumn breezes, a dusty yellow and blue with snap buttons. It’s large on him—like everything else Logan owns whenever Wade wears his clothes—but this particular flannel is loose on Logan, so the fabric almost drowns Wade in a pattern of faded checks.

And like every time the moron steals his crap to wear, Logan’s stomach flips in a way he can no longer ignore.

He’s not sure if they’re exclusive or not. They fall into bed together as easily as they fight side-by-side on missions. But it’s impossible for Logan to tell if Wade is serious about half the flirtations streaming out of his mouth when the idiot’s easy affection gets directed at anyone that looks at him twice.

And as much as he’s loathe to admit it, Logan wants so much more than that. He wants Wade’s lingering looks to mean something other than platonic nothings. He wants the softer kisses they share to be more than a break from sex. He wants Wade to need him the way Logan needs him. Hell, he wants Wade to annoy him in ways that Wade would never bother anyone else, because at least then Logan would know that he means something different to the motherfucker, something more than a roommate he hooks up with.

He wants just Wade, all of him, full stop.

He gingerly sits on the mattress, trying not to jostle the two napping Deadpools too much with his weight, and he reaches over to gently stroke Wade’s cheek with a thumb. Feeling emboldened when Wade doesn’t stir, he leans down to press his lips onto Wade’s forehead.

“Well, g’morning to y’too, honey badger,” Wade slurs at him, voice thick with sleep.

Logan abruptly jerks away, eyes wide, and the movement is enough to jostle Mary Puppins from her slumber. She hops off to nap in her own bed after a grumpy growl, leaving Wade alone on the mattress. He attempts to swallow the sudden lump in his throat before clearing it with a cough.

“S’four in the afternoon,” Logan mumbles. Pinching his lips into a flat line, he awkwardly sits next to Wade rustling around in the sheets. His eyes catch the flannel falling open to reveal that Wade is also wearing one of his tank tops.

Logan takes a deep, stuttering breath.

Eyes still closed, Wade blindly flaps his hand around until finding purchase on Logan’s shirt. He tugs Logan back down, and Logan curls over to kiss him softly.

“Welcome home, peanut,” Wade breathes onto his lips. “Missed you.”

He touches his nose to Wade’s. “Missed ya too, bub.”

Wade’s face splits into a slow, easy grin, pulling Logan into laying down. Logan follows him without a thought, gathering Wade into his arms.

“You’re wearin’ my clothes again,” he whispers.

Wade hums, nuzzling into his chest. “S’cold, and it smells like you.”

A pleased purr escapes Logan before he has a chance to stop it, and Wade giggles at him, kissing his collarbone before falling right back to sleep.

They don’t talk about what they are after that, but it’s at that moment when Logan finally realizes that maybe, somehow, Wade feels the same way about him too.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Wearing Wade’s Clothes (Again) ]

The TVA brings them in because they need help with some lady going after Deadpool variants. It would be a fruitless endeavour since Deadpools can’t die (well, except Nicepool) if it weren’t for the fact that the fucker apparently stole a weapon that disintegrates things to oblivion.

“Shouldn’t the law of physics stop that from happening?” Wade asks, gesturing at the screen when B-15 presents the mission to them. “‘Matter can’t be created or destroyed’ or something like that?”

“That’s energy, idiot,” Logan corrects him.

Wade just shrugs. “Hey, don’t blame me for failing physics twice!”

He turns to Wade with a confused grimace. “Who else would I blame then?”

“The teachers, duh!”

“Anyway,” B-15 interrupts, hitting a button to show another slide, “this variant’s got a fascination for destroying the indestructible, but she’s going after Deadpools because she has tritanopia, or blue-yellow colour blindness. She can see shades of red the easiest, hence, sticking with Deadpools as her target.”

“That’s so stupid,” Wade says and Logan can only agree. “There are, like, dozens immortal superheroes in red and she chooses li’l ole me? Seems like the writer copping out of coming up with a better plot, I-M-O.”

“We also believe Mary was double-crossed by the Deadpool in her timeline, giving further motive to go after his variants.”

“Hmph! Now isn’t that just convenient?” He crosses his arms. “Wait, ‘Mary’?”

“Yes.” B-15 shows another slide, this one a close-up of the woman—Mary’s—face. “She’s a Typhoid Mary variant. Have either of you encountered her before?”

“Not in my world,” Logan answers.

“I admittedly did not keep up with Netflix’s Daredevil long enough to meet Bloody Mary, no,” Wade says.

B-15 presents them with further details: Typhoid Mary’s known abilities and weaknesses; how she has dissociative identity disorder on top of her colour blindness; how she managed to acquire the worst weapon available from the arms dealers she was supposed to take down; how her alter apparently took over and decided to go after invincible mutants until she finally got even with her world’s Deadpool. The TVA did try to intervene, but she ended up killing every agent that went after her before stealing one of their TemPads and consequently going on her multiversal manhunt. B-15 makes it absolutely clear how imperative it is that they do not kill Mary or destroy the weapon so the TVA can keep them both under tabs.

Then, she reveals the TVA’s plan to capture her: They want Logan to pose as a Deadpool variant in the timeline they believe she’s going to strike next. Typhoid Mary’s current M.O. doesn’t account for superstrength so he should be able to break out of anything she traps him in. Meanwhile, Wade will be in the shadows, using a tranquillizer gun to incapacitate her once she’s busy with Logan.

Logan groans internally while Wade claps his hands in delight.

“Ooh!” he practically squeals, patting Logan on the shoulder with unrestrained excitement. “Finally, it’s my turn on the other side of this trope!”

B-15 shakes her head and sends them on their way.

The suit the TVA provides him fits perfectly, and he notes Wade’s heated, lingering gaze on him once he steps out of the dressing room. Luckily, another agent gets them through a portal before Wade starts on a tirade that would no doubt be filled with inappropriate innuendoes about Logan.

The mission is executed almost laughably easy. Typhoid Mary’s telekinetic and telepathic abilities are so low-level Logan’s shocked that the others she went after were able to be taken down so quickly.

(“Plot armour, peanut,” Wade said when Logan had asked B-15 about this. “She needed to last long enough to meet us!” As usual, Logan had chosen to ignore him.)

Like the TVA discovered, she lures Deadpools by spreading rumours he can’t ignore, adding a honeypot stash filled with weapons he loves. Geared up in Wade’s suit, Logan “falls” for her trap: entering an abandoned warehouse meant to shelter an upcoming gang targeting Deadpool, but secretly only houses her. Once Logan finds the crate of weapons meant to entice Wade, Typhoid Mary wastes no time in capturing him. She points a giant ray-gun of sorts at his face after wrapping him in the warehouse’s chains with her telekinesis.

He feels the faintest compulsion to stay still, which is probably her telepathy trying to subdue him. But she’s nowhere near the level of other telepaths Logan’s encountered, like Jean or Cassandra Nova, and the compulsion is easy to ignore. The chains are slightly harder to deal with in comparison, but he’s certain he can get out of them without too much trouble. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Wade moving into place.

During Logan’s silent assessment of the situation, Typhoid Mary apparently began monologuing. He doesn’t let her get a chance to finish though, breaking out of the bonds around his torso with sheer force and grunting at the exertion. He slices the chains around his ankles with his claws, the metal cutting like butter against the adamantium.

“What?!” she screams. “A Wolverine-Deadpool variant? How?!”

Logan doesn’t even open his mouth for a reply because Wade shoots a tranq dart in her neck. She falls to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Wooh! No scope oneshot K/O, baby!” he hollers, skipping over to pick up the weapon Typhoid Mary dropped. “God, I’d love to take this home with us,” he bemoans as he assesses it, “I can finally stick it to Cable and show off my own badass, futuristic gun!”

“That won’t be necessary,” B-15 announces, suddenly next to them. A group of armed TVA agents begin to file in from the portal behind her, a few of them attempting to grab the weapon from Wade while others lift Typhoid Mary away for custody.

The aftermath of the mission would be just as easy if isn’t for Wade bitching about giving up the gun. After B-15 debriefs them, she and Logan spend entirely too long demanding that Wade hand it to her.

“I’ll give it back if we can keep this suit for pookie here,” Wade eventually offers, pointing at Logan.

“What?” Logan asks. The suit’s not bad but he has no reason to wear it again once he takes it off. “Why—?”

“Deal,” B-15 immediately agrees.

Wade begrudgingly relinquishes the gun, giving it a flying kiss goodbye before taking Logan’s hand. B-15 opens a portal to their apartment and guides them through. “Thanks for the help, gentlemen!” she says, waving a hand at them. They both wave back, and the portal closes.

Logan looks down at the Deadpool suit he’s still wearing. “Why the hell did you want—mmph!”

His lips are suddenly bombarded with hot kisses, and he growls when Wade opens his mouth his tongue. He didn’t even notice that Wade took off his mask.

“God, you look so fucking good in my colours,” Wade moans, hands roaming all over Logan’s body. “Is this how you feel whenever I wear your things?” Logan makes a noise of assent, too busy mouthing at Wade’s jaw to give a proper answer. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Logan starts moving them towards the bed—Christ, he hopes Althea is gone because there’s no way he’s stopping what Wade’s started. His cock is already taking interest, and only gets harder when Logan bumps his hips into Wade’s. They tumble onto the pull-out in a feverish heat with Logan straddling Wade’s thighs.

He’s licking at Wade’s pulse when the dumbass gasps, “Oh my god, I’m gonna fuck a variant of myself.”

Used to Wade’s non-stop yammering even during sex, Logan mindlessly replies, “‘S still me, bub, I ain’t a variant of you.” Foolishly, he adds, “Besides, that’d be weird.”

“What? Why?”

With Wade groping his ass, Logan actually has to pause getting his hands under Wade’s suit to think about an answer.

He finally lands on: “It’d be like fucking your own clone.”

Wade actually stops everything he’s doing—hands no longer kneading his cheeks, mouth pulling away from him. Logan groans, knowing his brought this on himself, and dips his forehead to rest on Wade’s shoulder.

“What? You wouldn’t?”

“No, because that’s weird.”

“I’d fuck my clone.”

“Course you would.”

“T-B-H, I’m so pro-clone fucking I’d just have an orgy with all of them. Who’d be better to fuck me than me, right?”

This, by far, is one of—if not the—stupidest conversation Logan’s ever had with a person. Somehow, his dick doesn’t flag, and he’s still irrevocably fond of Wade’s random chatter. He kisses Wade before he can start on another tangent, cupping his perfect idiot’s face softly.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says, but knowing the smile he’s got on, Wade isn’t going to listen to him.

Wade’s answering smirk is a challenge. “Make me, peanut.”

——————————————

(More notes on Ao3.)

[icarusredwings]

Trying something new, be kind.

Baby talk. 1/2

Ft. Wo-wo, mama, and 'essy

A Sfw very little Wade fic

Cws include: Brief mentions of adult fun, truama, brief discussion of death, an unexperienced caregiver, an uncomfortable caregiver, cursing, struggles/ happy ending.

Coming home, Wade was quiet. Too quiet.

"Wade?" He calls.

"Last time I heard him he came to hug me for a bit but he didn't awnser me when I asked what he was doing." Al mutters, half asleep on the couch.

"Oh.. well I got food so don't nod off just yet. I'm gonna make that alfredo stuff you like."

"Mmh.. You're a good kid, Logan."

"Althea, I'm older than you...Remember?" He says, setting down the bag of ingredients in the kitchen.

The old woman waves her hand. "Yeah yeah... just wake me up when you're done."

"Alright. Swear you'll wake up? Don't go dying on our couch." He tells her jokingly.

"Bah! It's my couch, I can die on it if I want too." She smiles, pulling the blanket up a bit.

Sometimes she did this, and it was starting to worry Logan. She was forgetting little things more, taking more naps, not wanting to move a lot either. Something about her back? Either way, Logan was terrified. He's already lost so many to old age, he didn't want to see her go too. And thinking about what it would do to Wade scared him more.

It's not until he checks the bedroom to see Wade W sitting, sucking his thumb, and playing house with his action figures and the doll house that Vanessa bought him a couple of years ago.

"Darlin'?"

From the looks of it, he had Spiderman in the kitchen, an old woman on the couch, a doggy on the couch, two little girls upstairs, a barbie in the tub (that didn't fit at all) and a wolverine action figure in the bed, claws up and out.

It took him a second to process before smiling softly. He hasn't been this small in such a long time. "Did I have a nightmare?" He asks, watching as Wade takes the wolvie out of the bed, reaching up as if showing him.

"Yeah, I see. Mad little guy, isn't he?" Logan crouches, grunting a bit as his knees popped.

"God, how do you get down here? Dosn't that hurt your knees?" Logan asks, only to be given a dead stare. As if not processing what he was saying.

"Oh.. uhm.. these?" He pats his knees. "Ouches. Sometimes.."

His eyes light up, only to frown, looking concerned, his own hands coming to his knees. "...ow?"

"Sometimes... hey so... how big are you right now? Can you tell me?"

But there was that stare again, a small tilt of his head with such wide white eyes. Yeah.. that just about tells him everything he needs to know. Vanessa has told him about when this first started and how truely little he had become, not talking much, simply....staring.

"Well.. Kitty's going to make dinner soon. How about you come out and sit in the living room, okay? So I can see you?"

Another stare, his head tilting to the other side now, like a puppy watching its owner do something it had no concept of.

"Uh-huh.... right. Uhm... nevermind. Just stay in here, okay?" Standing again is when Wade begins to panic, making an urgent whine, putting his arms up. "MmMmh!!"

Blinking, Logan swallows, not exactly comfortable with this age. This was Vanessa's age. Not his. He was used to the 5 year old wanting to play stuffies or the smart alack 8 year old who ranted to him for hours about stars, planets, and dinosaurs.

So this was.. weird. New. Unexplored territory. And Honestly, he was fine with that. Totally fine with not knowing.

"Er...I-i don't.. this isn't-" He starts, having a subconsious guilty feeling in his gut for not wanting to take care of him, but also felt like he shouldn't be interacting with him. I mean- They did big adult things last night. And now he was giving him grabby hands? It felt wrong. And with Wade's truama? He didn't want to make it worse on accident.

"Ups?"

"N-no.. Wade.. I-...Im gonna go call Vanessa. Okay?"

"... 'essy?"

"Y-yeah. 'Essy. Erm.. thats ness right?"

" 'essy?"

Swallowing, he nods, leaving the room with his hairs pricked up on the back of his neck, a knot in his stoamch. Taking a deep breath, he dialed the poor woman twice. The phone range through to voice mail both times. "Shit- okay.. fuck.. uhm.."

So he goes to google, trying his best to look for awnsers only to become more disgusted with himself at what he saw. Why was there so much- He groans, trying to calm himself. He couldn't even ask Althea because she was sleeping, snoring away.

Okay. Come on, Howlett. It can't be this hard.. right? I mean, it's just like a regular ki- Oh come on! He's never had a kid this little before! Especially not alone. What was he supposed to do?

Another deep breath, feeling defeated, and put his face in his hands. A buzz comes from the phone, and just as he looks at it, it was like signing his own death certificate.

'Sorry, I'm working. Whats up?'

"When he was really young what did you do to him?"

'???'

"He's really little right now. What do I do?" He asks, trying to type coherently.

'Oooh okay. So ussually I would give him a cup and put on a movie. He was really cuddly too so sometimes I would just hold him.'

Before Logan could respond again, she sent another message saying she had to get back to work and that it will be fine. 'It's easy, don't worry' She said but Logan had his doubts.

Alright. Movies.. cups.. hugs. Got it. He could do that. He could do hugs and cups. That was normal.

Sighing, he puts the phone away, going to the kitchen as he made him his cup, just putting straight milk into it. He liked milk right?? Did tots like milk? Yeah- obviously. Come on- get it together.

Walking into the livingroom, Logan sets it down, going through movies as he remembered what Vanessa told him before, about singing princess movies. "Ariel it is" he thinks, clicking it on and shifted the coffee table so he would have room to lay or play- what ever it was he did.

Coming back to the room, he gathers up some blankets and his stuffies, taking them from the room only to drop them all infront of the tv.

"Wade!" He calls. "Got a cup for ya! And look its a princess. You like princesses." He says, but he doesn't come.

"Wade? Come on, Bub! I gotta make dinner still." This last part was under his breath, only to grunt, going into the room only to see him sitting in the same spot.

"What are you doing? Come on. Livingroom with mama. Lets go." He shifts, gestruing his arms to the door but Wade didn't move, infact the loud words made him frown more, looking at him with those big wide eyes, a deer in headlights.

Logan took a step forward, watching Wade lower his head, holding his small angry Wolverine near his chest, like he would take it away.

This is what Logan was worried about. Great! Now he was scared of him. How was he supposed to care for someone who was too scared to move?

Think, Logan. This isn't hard. Just carry him.

Grunting, he hesitantly puts his arms out, leaning over. "...come'ere."

Another head tilt, making him groan, slightly annoyed. "Wade. Uppies. Come on, kiddo."

Instantly, he smiles, crawling quickly to his legs and put his hands back up, still keeping mad wolvie in one hand.

Picking him up, a shiver went down his spine, suddenly feeling a sense of severe protection after Wade wrapped his arms around his neck, affectionatly nuzzling into his neck with a big smile.

Unconsciously, he hugged him tightly, holding his bum and rubbing his back. "...Hi honey."

Wait. What was he doing? no. No. No. No. NO.

He couldn't feel that way about him. Absolutely no way. That was wrong. Fucking instincts! Not everthing adorable is your kid damn it!

Shaking his head, he quickly walks to the livingroom, putting him down.

"Now. You stay. Sit and watch princess." He says, pointing at the Tv and shaking his head, watching as Wade whimpered, giving him grabby hands again.

"No, Wade. L-later..." He swallows, wanting to punch himself for feeling that way. He had hugged him the same way Gabby did after a long time of seeing him, and it had activated his instinctual parental habits.

Quickly, he walks away to the kitchen, rubbing his temples. "I can't do this shit.." he grumbles.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Pt 2. Of my one shot (will be posted as one big post on ao3)

Thank you for all the support! It's getting me through a tough time I'm going through rn in my travels. I had a short oneshot in mind like 1000 words but I think I'm gonna fluff it out.

-----

So it keeps...happening.

Eddie gets up, walks to the door, Steve's on the other side.

He pushes past Eddie and heads to his room.

Falls fast asleep.

He hasn't even been drunk the past two times.

This time is a little different.

Eddie's been sleeping next to him of course. How could he pass up the opportunity for something he's been dreaming about for years months weeks.

He can tell Steve's faking being asleep. He's breathing lighter, not the chainsaw snoring Eddie's grown used to. He's spread out like a starfish and Eddie is stiff on the edge of the bed. His face turned towards Steve, he can't resist staring at him.

Steve's eyelids flutter and Eddie's mind races with possibilities. Is he dreaming? Still awake? What's going on?

"Will you shut up and get over here," Steve mutters.

Is he talking in his sleep?

"Eddie." He opens one eye. "Get over here."

What the fuck.

He doesn't even have a second to panic before Steve reaches over and grabs him, successfully rolling him over into his arms.

"Finally." He nestles his face into Eddie's hair. "Give me a copy of your key I'm tired of waiting for you."

Eddie chokes.

"Steve." He strains. "What're you doing."

"Isn't it obvious? Sleeping."

----

Steve's a sweaty sleeper.

Eddie only knows because he wakes with his face in his BARE chest.

Yes he's been sleeping better since this started but at some point Steve's gonna have to give him an actual explanation.

How does he get out of this one? It's his trailer he can't exactly walk of shame it.

Steve's starting to wake up. He sniffles a bit and squeezes Eddie before letting go.

"Mornin." He rolls Eddie off and gets up.

"I'm going to work. Give me the key later."

....ok?!?!?! Eddie's sure he looks completely flabbergasted.

"Bye."

Eddie's watches him as he walks out.

Well...he's just gonna follow him. He needs answers. It's not like he hasn't been trying!

-----

"Ok!" He screams as he throws open the doors to family video. "I want answers!"

Robin looks at him in shock while Steve looks bored.

"What's this about?" Robin asks.

"Probably about us sleeping together." Steve says, bored.

"I'm...sorry...what's this?" Robin looks shocked.

"You know, that I've been sleeping with Eddie."

Robin whips to look at Eddie who doesn't look much better. They both are speechless, eyes wide, mouths open.

"No I do not know!"

"I'm restocking!" Steve yells as he walks past them into the back.

As soon as he's gone Robin stomps over to Eddie and punches him in the arm.

"OW!"

"What the hell doofus! You're sleeping with him? Why wouldn't you guys tell me! When was Steve even gay? I mean I know that- nevermind that's not important. You're dating!?!"

"No! I don't know!"

"How do you not know?!"

"We're not sleeping together! We're literally just sleeping in the same bed. We're...sleeping...together?"

Robin squints at him.

"You." She pushes a finger into his chest. "You better figure this out."

"Talk. To. Him." She jabs her finger into his chest between words.

----

Comment your thoughts! Comment your feelings! Comment!

I know it seems basic but I kinda had the thought of "what is Steve just took over the trailer because he needed to sleep without nightmares and then just never left"

More of this and my other oneshots coming soon!

I'll also be working on uploading everything I've ever written to my ao3 which is pinned on my profile

[imobsessivesometimes]

Eazy-Duz-It // Logan Howlett x Reader

PT 3

a/n i really like this chapter tbh i thought it was cute

First nights anywhere are hard. The unfamiliarity of the new environment induces paranoia that's hard to get over. It makes sleeping harder than it needs to be. New sheets and pillows make a game out of finding the perfect spot to lay on. A stupid, annoying game. The shadows of the trees outside are new, the way they sway isn't comforting like it the trees at my favorite park. The only park where police won't kick me out of for sleeping in my car there. The bed is too big here. The mattress is a completely different stiffness to than the seats in the backseat. The material of the comforter doesn't compare to the blankets I stupidly left in my car. I'll have to remember to bring those in next time I find myself in the garage. The mansion is fucking huge. I can't get anywhere without having to ask directions or follow someone. I've started to figure out how to get to the nearest piano. I'm surprised they even have one. I would've thought it'd be too dangerous to have an old grand around kids with unpredictable abilities. Guess not.

With the help of Ororo, I've come up with a way for kids to feel comfortable exploring music. We put up sign-up sheets in most classrooms for one-on-one piano lessons. I asked Logan if he could help me move the grand piano into a private room. Surprisingly, he agreed. Something about having nothing else worthwhile to do. None of the doorways were big enough to fit it through without taking it apart (which I don't know how to do or put back together) so we had to find someone who could phase objects. To my surprise there was a student that could! Logan had all but carried the piano in himself after the student allowed for the piano to be phase-able, it would've gone through the floor otherwise. A few other x- men walked by while Logan was in the middle of getting it through, they shot a few weird looks at me. If only I could phase, too.

Tomorrow, or I guess today, will be the start of the private lessons. I've never taught someone how to play the piano. The closest I've gotten to teaching a kid piano was in elementary school when the class was learning to play the keyboard, but I had already been playing for a few years thanks to my parents. I was a prodigy of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb', a true marvel to witness. In college, I majored in performance, not education. It had been a few years since I've been in school, tossing and turning in the too-white, white sheets was my only way of trying to bring forward the information I had accidentally locked away. 

Fuck this.

I threw the sheets off me. Sleeping clearly isn't going to happen. I got up to open the door, silently praying it didn't creak. My feet patted against the rug that rolled along the length of the hallway and down the stairs to the main floor. I made a few wrong turns on the main floor before reaching the kitchen. The light was on, but no one was inside. I rummaged through a few cabinets before finding an assortment of tea bags, a kettle was already near the stove. I put the kettle on and watched it closely from the counter so it wouldn't whistle and wake the entire house.

"What the hell are you doin'?" the only gruff voice I know came from an archway to my right. Logan looked just as tired as I felt. He wore a white shirt that I'm not sure if he wore during the day or not, and jeans. Like a weirdo.

"Uh, making tea? Good for the pipes," I responded. He looked to the kettle steaming on the stove, turned back to me, and began walking over.

"Ya singin' at 3 in the mornin'?" he tilted his head like a dog asking for people-food.

"Totally, that's what you're doing up, right?" I scoffed. Logan leaned his forearms on the counter next to where I sat. The air around him wasn't playful despite the words coming out of his mouth. He wasn't awake because he was a night owl. "Want some?" I motioned towards the kettle.

"Tea? No, I don't do tea."

"It's non-caffeinated, it might help you sleep." I tried.

"I don't have trouble sleeping," he pushed off the counter in defense.

"But you have trouble staying asleep,"

The air grew a little thicker, maybe from the steam the kettle was letting out. He stood looking at me, I couldn't tell if he was blinking. After a few seconds he tore his eyes away with a sigh. He rubbed his hands through his hair and down his face, messing up his perfect bedhead and making it even better. "Yeah," he mumbled, barely audible. He sat down, the poor wooden stool creaking just like the stairs.

"You can have a sip of mine, see if you like it," I offered, he waved his hand dismissively, but stayed seated. I prepared my cup of tea and held it out for Logan to smell. He didn't take the mug from the handle, not even wincing from the heat, and brought it up to his nose. I overheard from one of the students that he had heightened senses, I don't know why he held it so close. He didn't blow on the drink before taking a swig. He put the mug down while licking his lips. "So?"

"It's fine," he shrugged.

"Woah! That's a more positive response than I was expecting," I beamed. Logan leaned back with arms crossed and huffed something along the lines of a scoff and laugh.

"Just don't expect to see me down here brewin' myself some," he cocked an eyebrow.

"Not yet, at least," I winked while taking the mug back, blowing on it, and taking a sip myself. It was still too hot; I coughed a little. Out of the corner of my eye, it looked like Logan's eyebrow shifted to a crease of worry. "Hot," I got out.

As I set the mug down again, Logan spoke, "What are ya really doin' up? Ya said the tea would help me sleep, what 'bout you?"

"Well, uh, I," I stuttered, Logan was staring me down like a hawk, I would've hated to be questioned by this guy when I was in that container. I laughed nervously, "it's stupid,"

"No, it's not," he quickly rebutted.

"It's just, I'm nervous for tomorrow-today. A kid signed up for a piano lesson." I looked down, I couldn't handle the intensity of his stare. I caught a glimpse of myself in the tea, disheveled and tired. I didn't look like I could help someone.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Logan huffed.

"Well, yeah, but I dunno, I've never done something like this. I don't really help people like you do, like any of the x-men here do. You all teach important things like how to defend yourself or how to, I dunno, train your abilities. What if I'm doing more harm than good in the long run?"

"I didn't know learning music was such a big deal," Logan shrugged. He eyed the mug of tea; the thin line of steam had stopped. "It's not hot anymore,"

"Huh? Oh, thanks," I stuck my finger in the tea and swirled it around a little, "music isn't necessarily a big deal, but, to me, right now, it is. I don't know if I can help these kids."

"You keep saying that, but you took the job, right? The first thing to helping people is wanting to help people. I think you're doing fine." Logan leaned forward, pushing your wrist away from the mug and taking a sip from it.

"I never thought about it like that, thanks, Logan." I smiled slightly, but also a little confused at his actions. "Thought you didn't like tea?"

"No, I said ya wouldn't catch me makin' it myself. Why should I make it when ya do a fine job?" he raised the mug up in cheers. That knocked me out of my head long enough to pull a light chuckle from my lips.

"Thank you, Logan. I think I'm gonna head up. Comin' with?" I stood and asked. 

"Think I'll finish this, see ya around, kid." he turned around and headed off in the opposite direction of the staircase.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

On The Hunt: Working As A Unit

Summary- 5.2k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. You and Steve are finding a new side to being around one another. Neither of you had simple downtime before, but a possible glimpse into what life could be like for you. A mission together leads you two to become a lethal team.

Warnings- Hand-on-hand combat, heated at the moment making out and touching. This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Wow it's been a while and I so appreciate everyone who has been so patient, sending supportive messages and the asks simply saying that they missed this couple. Knowing really kept me going. I know I have been vocal about how I've been struggling with writing but you all keep me going. I love it so much, even when it's hard. Thank you so much @yenzys-lucky-charm for bouncing ideas, reading the snippets I would email, and giving suggestions. You have no idea how much it means to me. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics. Happy Reading!

Chapter 9 / Masterlist

You and Steve started going on more missions together that Shuri sent along while waiting for Ulysses to return to the area. 

Sometimes it was about gathering intel on suspected smugglers, other times it was wider-spread travel, intercepting shipments leaving with hostages. All small, and easy enough for you and Steve to do together without many issues. 

Together you two started growing as a functioning team, relying on each other in ways you hadn’t before. Steve began to rely on your tracking skills, letting the Little Wolf lead the way to intercept smugglers moving small groups of shifters while your smaller stature kept you easily from sight. You in turn depended on Steve to take out threats along the way, the Alpha using speed and surprise to subdue anyone who took notice of the Little Wolf prowling. 

With T’Challa’s help, you could relocate the victims to get the help they needed and pass along information, allowing Wakanda to start mapping out trafficking routes. 

You and Steve were making a difference together. 

On the days when Shuri had no missions to send you two on and Ulysses had yet to make an appearance to the warehouse, you and Steve used this downtime to rest and prepare. Thankfully the heat passed, without you doing anything with Steve beyond sleeping in his bed with him. That simple act was enough to get you both through it. You had the Alpha’s presence in what became your nest and Steve was allowed to take care of the Omega in whichever way you needed him. 

As much as you both craved the intimacy sex would give in the moment, you knew deep down that you were still trying to heal, and be with Steve with trust in him not to abandon you or force you into a position that gave him all the power over you.

Steve kept his promise, nothing would happen between you two till you were ready. 

You learned to appreciate those days of nothing but each other's company. Typically Steve was the first to wake up and make breakfast.

Since your heat was over, you had moved back into your bedroom, without him fighting you about it. The Little Wolf had something to say, but she relented in the end. Whenever you wandered out Steve would have a plate of food ready along with coffee, and a gentle smile before you two would fall into a safe conversation, usually going over mission notes together and putting together a report to send back to T’Challa. 

Mid mornings Steve usually went for his runs while you did your workouts in the open living area, sometimes if Steve came back in time, he would follow along with you, going through the defense and attack moves that you had learned from the panthers in Wakanda. Steve also showed you other moves that he had learned in his years with the Howling Commandos, you were a quick study, and earning Steve’s praise made you feel giddy in a way that you hadn’t in a long time. 

Sweat was running down your back and face, heavily panting while Steve tossed you a water bottle while guzzling his own down, a wide proud smile flashed at you. “Y/N, do you even know how badass you are Little One?” He gave you a slight nudge when you turned a bit shy, rolling your eyes at him while taking some deep swallows from the bottle to keep from saying anything. “I mean it, if you ever wanted to, I’m sure Natasha would train you in her skillset.” 

You paused, your heart aching at his words like he genuinely believed you would one day return to his home, regardless of the status of you two. But you partially felt responsible that the pack didn’t have their Alpha, and part of you wondered how many of the wolves felt that you were to blame for his disappearance. Steve frowned seeing you shut down in front of him, your face turning away and your lips pulling tight as your inner thoughts spun, the Little Wolf growing agitated in your mind. Impulsive his fingers gripped your chin, making you face him with a questioning look. “Little One, where are you?” When your eyes snapped back into the moment, he let his hand drop. 

“Steve, I don’t know if going back is an option for me. That’s your home, your family. Me being there…” You broke off, not wanting to voice those dark little thoughts. 

Steve’s brow came together as he pieced together what you were not saying. “Y/N, you are a member of the pack, you became one the moment I invited you to stay before we were even together.” 

That’s always going to be our home Y/N. Your Little Wolf chimed in with a swish of her tail.  

“Our pack is found family.” Steve continued. “Bucky and I were born into it, but Sam and Sara came when they needed a place outside of the chaos of Shield. Natasha’s home pack was destroyed to recruit the pups, training them into assassins. When she broke free of them, she went to Nick Fury to deliver the organization’s crimes and he sent us in to dismantle the organization. She came back with me. Pietro and Wanda landed in Tony’s pack for a short time and went between us when they needed a break from the city. Clint came with his human wife needing to give her space from living in a pack but still be close enough for his wolf to find peace and have safety for his family.” Steve pieced together different members' stories, trying to convince you that you belonged there just as any of the others did. “It doesn't matter if we’re mated or not Y/N, they are your family and will tell you the same thing I did. You came when you needed a home and it will remain your home. Regardless of our history, I would never ask you to leave your family.” 

Now that was something you never considered, but the idea of it settled. You and Steve had already come so far with each other since he first left, would you be able to stay even just as friends? The Little Wolf settled back down once your line of thinking shifted. 

The evenings were when you two finally relaxed, crashing on the couch with the apartment TV. playing a movie that one of you picked out. You would curl up in the corner of the couch, eyes glued to the movie Steve had picked that night. 

This wasn’t something you had done before, not like this. Living with Pierce pack, there wasn’t entertainment allowed to the shifters for sale, you were just kept locked away with the necessities and each other to keep company, and living with Steve, you two would occasionally settle into watching some TV show, but most of the time you two or the wolves were exploring, Steve giving you a glimpse of life like you've never experienced before. But that wasn’t the case anymore and you found a deep love of movies. 

So night after night, you would make some snacks that you found in the store around the corner of the block, Steve would scan for iconic movies you absolutely must see, according to him. 

You got to also see a side of Steve you hadn’t seen before. A completely relaxed man, tossing popcorn into the air to catch you two turning it into a game, soon there was popcorn scattered all across the living room as the two of you started trying to toss it across the couch into one another's mouth. 

His face would scrunch up when you bounced the buttery pieces off his forehead or cheeks, making him chuck his pieces right back at you, making you smile in victory. “For being the big bad wolf Steve, you can’t catch worth shit.” You teased from across the couch, tossing up a piece to catch on your own. 

Steve brushed the loose popcorn on the floor and prepared to clean it up the next day. “I’m better at taking bites, not playing catch.” His teeth snapped in your direction and the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, tears streaming down your face as your giggles turn to hiccups. 

The Alpha is smug in Steve’s mind, knowing he made you laugh like that. 

Slowly movie night worked its magic, before either of you knew it, you two were cuddled up together on the couch, sharing bowls of snacks between you and the two of you debating the quality of the storyline and characters. Steve started getting a feel for what he thought you liked and proposed your first movie marathon. 

You lasted halfway through the eleven-hour Lord of the Rings marathon. You tried but somewhere in the middle of the second movie your head dipped down onto Steve’s shoulder and your breathing leveled out into the tone of sleep. 

<Look at that Steve, put her right to sleep.> The Alpha snickered in Steve’s mind, prowling restlessly in missing the bond. Steve barely moved as he eased the blanket off the back of the couch, letting it drape over your curled-up form, and you cuddled up closer to him, rubbing your face into the crook of his neck. 

Steve stiffened, this was the first time you’d touched him since your heat and he didn’t want to push past boundaries. 

<You relaxing with her isn’t gonna undo everything you two have accomplished so far.> 

Steve let the Alpha’s common sense settle, letting himself loosen, sinking in a bit against you and enjoying your warmth pressing into him. His focus turned back to the movie while his arm rested over your shoulders. 

When you woke up the next morning, you were still on the couch, your head pillowed and covered in a soft blanket that smelled like Steve. You tugged it around you tighter, sleepily smiling as you buried your face into the soft fabric and inhaled. Your Little Wolf was so content in your mind. You felt safe here, with Steve in this little apartment and it hit you that you hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Even when you were back in Wakanda, you constantly felt the need to watch your back. Now with Steve, you could relax and put all your energy into the mission. 

Adrenaline rushed through your veins, everything was in hyper-focus. Your Little Wolf paced, wanting to hunt down her prey. 

She practically salivated at the thought of opening her maw wide and sinking her fangs into these bastard's flesh, ripping them apart piece by piece.  

You let that rush feed your senses, making everything sharper. 

The crowd of handlers was rough with the shifters they were smuggling, all of them enclosed in collars. The Little Wolf’s snarls filled your mind at the sight. Your eyes narrowed on them, these were not panthers like you were expecting. 

Shuri had sent coordinates for a pack of wolves. You whispered, enough for Steve to hear you in the comm in your ear. “Where do you think they are from?” 

The Alpha was out of sight looking for the best vantage point of attacking the smugglers while keeping the prisoners safe. “I don’t know Little One. I don’t recognize any of them. They could be from home… we knocked out a large portion of it when we took out Brock, but it's hard knowing how far Hydra has spread.” 

“Are we able to get them out?” You asked as you started taking a quick count of how many there were.

“Their collars are not like mine,” Steve observed, making you take note of the leather strap enclosed around their necks. “I think that it's merely preventing them from shifting, they are fighting against the bonds, so they have free will.” 

Indeed you saw several snarl at the armed individuals forcing them from the warehouse, marching them across a shipping yard towards a large cargo ship. “That’s good.” 

“They won’t be fighting against us, if my theory is correct.” 

“Alright Captain, what’s the plan here?” 

“Cute Little One.” You heard him snort a bit, making your Little Wolf huff in amusement. “Get your ass onto that cargo ship unseen. If you can make your way to holding, do it.” 

You started working your way closer, using cargo containers to shield you from the scattering of guards on the perimeter. “And then what?” 

“Work your way inside, take out whoever you have to. There should be minimal security below deck.” 

“What are you going to do?” You paused at the ship's edge, scanning it for a way to get onboard. Nearby you could hear voices, but still seemed far enough away that you didn't duck back into hiding. Not yet anyway. 

“Work my way through the above deck crew.” You heard a swoosh through the comm, sure it was the shield T’Challa had made for him. You tapped your bracelet, feeling the metal lightly sweep over your chest and across your back, covering your most vulnerable spots. 

You kept searching for a spot to climb onto the towering cargo ship.“You got this Little One?” 

Your Little Wolf tensed, ready for you to take that leap. “Got this Alpha, see you up there.” 

“I will make a distraction for you and draw their attention so you can slip inside.” 

You prepared yourself for Steve’s distraction, sprinting to the walkway leading up to the ship's dock. It wasn’t long till you heard shouts of alarm and shots. 

“You better be okay Steve!” You harshly whispered into your comm as you took the opening. 

“Worried about me, Little One?” You heard in return, a hint of teasing in his tone while his comm crackled with background noise. 

“Just not in the mood to come save your ass.” You sass back, letting your senses wander. The ship shuddered beneath your feet, signaling that it was getting ready to ship off. Noticing a door that led into the ship, you sprinted for it. Skidding to the metal door, you eased inside. 

“Stay safe Little One.” Steve’s voice filled your head just as you ran into someone patrolling. His eyes widened when he saw you, raising his weapon in preparation to shoot you. 

It was automatic, your leg swung out to kick the barrel away and you pushed forward, your hand lashing out to cuff the man's face. The butt of the gun swung into your shoulder, knocking you off kilter. 

“We got a brea-” The guard started into his comm system. With a snarl, you tackled him, grabbing at his ear and ripping at the device to keep him from continuing his alert. The gun went skidding out of reach, but he hit you to stop your attack, whiplashing your face till blood burst from your mouth from a busted lip and making your head ring at how hard he had hit you. “Bitch!” His foot planted against you, shooting you off of him to sail over his head. You crashed against the floor, skidding across the metal. 

Your body twisted away from him. <Weapon!> Your Little Wolf alerted you and you snatched it to pull towards you when he came crashing back on you, the air crushed from your body. It was worth it though, getting him that close as you were able to swing the gun, cracking it aside his head. 

The guard's eyes rolled back at the sudden hit and he collapsed over you. “Fuck” You muttered, wriggling till you were able to pull out from underneath him. Shouldering the rifle, you also shoved his comm in your ear to listen in on the others. You pulled at him to drag him into a nearby room and slammed the door shut, twisting the handle enough to break it, preventing it from opening. 

In the comm, you could hear shouts of alarm, that someone was wreaking havoc on the top deck. 

<Steve is giving us our chance to secure the hostages.>

With a sprint, you started racing towards the stairs and swinging over the banister to drop several levels quickly, bypassing as much as you could. And we're gonna make every second count. 

“WHOA!” Someone shouted from the stairwell, making you glance up to see a couple of faces looking down at you. They didn’t give another warning, their weapons shoved over the railing and shot down at you. You ducked the bouncing bullets as best you could, dodging out of the stairwell back into a hallway. Thumps from the stairwell let you know they weren’t far behind.

Securing yourself around a corner, you dropped to your knees, rifle aimed down the hallway, ready for the attack. 

The Little Wolf honed in on the sound of footsteps, under your breath, you started counting the seconds to yourself, your breathing going calm. Once that door slammed open, your finger pressed down on the trigger. 

The shield Steve was given repelled the bullets, his arm shooting up to block himself while using the shield as a ram, rushing against the crew while bullets rained on him. The pinging was ear-splitting but they bounced off, resulting in hitting quite a few of the people attacking him. 

It had gone far better than he expected. The scattering of bullets dropping men in his path, then a few well-placed hits between his fist and the shield kept the momentum. 

<BEHIND YOU!> Came a sharp snarl and Steve twisted enough to miss the dagger in his back, catching him on the side of his neck instead. 

Pain made him bare his teeth with a snarl, turning to his foe. 

“Last one I expected to see.” Came the man's sharp reply, his blade swinging in his hand till his hand gripped the handle, prepared to slash at Steve should he come close enough. “Better prepared though than when Brock took you. Where’s your little bitch this time?” His smirk was cold as he continued his taunts. "Figures you would be too weak to snap her neck."

Steve let his words slide away, eyeing the man. <Provoke him into an attack.> His Alpha circled slowly, a predator on his hunt. 

Steve sensed the change in the air, the confidence in his opponent growing that he was able to push the Alpha into dropping his protection. It gave him the guts to charge Steve, his knife ready to sink into him. 

Last second Steve swung his arm up, the vibranium swiftly blocking the attack and cutting the blade off at the handle. With his hand, he grasped the sheared knife blade falling and flicked his hand into the man's gut, sinking the metal into him. 

Blood spurted out of his mouth, his eyes wide in surprise as Steve snarled in his face. “You were not much of a threat, were you?” The man dropped, Steve clenched his cut hand, trying to stop the bleeding grabbing the bare knife had caused. “Y/N… location?” He said out loud, holding his breath still to quiet himself, letting the comm have all his focus. 

It was quiet for a few moments, making the Alpha in him grow agitated. <Call again> 

Give her a chance. Steve waited for it, anything from you when your voice cut through the silence he willed on himself.

“I’m below… port side. I still haven't found where they are keeping them.” Your aggravated voice came through. “Shit-” Your voice suddenly cuts out, making Steve cry out. 

“Y/N?” He bolted, shoving himself into an open door, and racing down the stairs, he started passing others that you had already taken out. Steve headed towards the left, darting down halls and crashing through doors, essentially following your trail. 

Your scent was getting stronger and soon he heard loud thumps and grunts. The Alpha snarled as fear tainted Steve, all his senses growing sharper trying to get to you. 

Sprinting down the hall and locating where the sounds of fighting were coming from, he busted into a steel door, making it snap open to find you with your thighs wrapped around a man's head, your hands gripping at him and yanking his head back, your teeth bared with the effort while the man struggled to get free. 

It made Steve pause a second, processing that he was watching you about to snap a man's neck. And with a yank, the body fell limp and you untangled yourself. “Fuck…” He muttered, making your gaze snap to his, heated between the two of you. 

For half a second, before your eyes widened in alarm. “Behind you!” Steve whipped around to throw his shield up, the ping of bullets bouncing off them. A kick was aimed at his uncovered legs, making him grunt in surprise as he stumbled back, making you yelp in alarm.

<SHIFT!>  

You started wiggling yourself free from under the body, your Little Wolf urging you to shift cause she could move faster than you could. But it wasn’t necessary, the next moment a hand shot at you, Steve taking hold of your hand and pulling you to your feet. 

“Are you hurt?” You both asked each other at once, both of you panting from exertion and adrenaline racing, your hands pawed at one another, trying to check each other out when you took an exhale of relief. 

He was fine. 

“Little One,” Steve growled, staring down at you with a wild look, betraying everything he was feeling in that gaze. The glazed look of adrenaline-rushed fear and relief, as well as the lust simmering for you, the need to be able to reach out and take you. 

And you so desperately wanted it, your heart racing and the whole mission catching up to you, you pulled in closer, grasping at him to lift yourself to crash your mouth into his with a possessive growl. 

One that Steve equally matched with force, the air stolen from you as he hauled you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and arching into him as you pushed your fingers into his hair to grasp on, tilting your head to get closer inside of him, your tongue plunging past sharp bites and snarls. 

Your back slammed into the ship's steel wall, effectively pinning you against his hardened body and it drove you feral feeling your mate so hard between your thighs, your hips rocking into him for the friction, your suit rubbing you in a teasing way, but you wanted to rip it off, everything between you. 

You wanted to feel his heat pour into you, his body smothering yours till you couldn’t get free, not ever again. You wanted to be claimed inside and out, made to be all his. 

More than being in heat could ever burn you. This wasn’t just a need to fuck each other. 

“You gotta- you gotta make me stop.” He hissed against your mouth, his eyes screwing shut like he was trying to control himself and you gave a sharp tug on his hair, pulling his mouth open in a gasp so you could claim again. “We can’t right-” 

You cut him off before even letting him finish. “Don’t you fucking dare Steve, not this time. You can’t take my choice from me.” You studied his eyes when they sprang back open, searching for your consent. “I want this, this is me telling you yes.” You tilted to his neck, nipping along the column to make him shudder, his head tilting back to give you all the room to use your mouth on him. You felt your Little Wolf tense, almost like she was holding her breath, waiting to see what Steve would choose. “The question is, do you want us? As messy and complicated we might be?” You felt him pull away, letting your feet settle back onto the floor, the ships wall no longer at your back. The space in between the two of you felt miles wide, making your Little Wolf curl on herself. 

Would he believe you were ready or would he pull away convincing himself that he wasn’t good enough for you? Steve eased you back from him, making sure you were looking right in his eyes, seeing the truth for yourself. “Before I even knew who you were, Little One, I looked for you. I will always want this life with you.” 

So easily were the roles reversed, Steve grasping the front of your neck to drag you in against him, closing whatever distance there was between you two. Your body so easily fit against his, all your senses coming alive feeling him hard against you while blue eyes searched yours, silently pleading for this moment to be true. 

All you could do was share another look back, reassurance, desire, hunger, and love. Words couldn't come close to what you needed to say to him, even if you could talk right now. But it was enough for Steve, for he claimed your mouth with his, taking away every rational thought. 

Your Little Wolf started her mates' song while Steve practically took all the air from your lungs. You clutched at him till he maneuvered you back into a wall, bouncing against the ship's metal with a whimper from you. 

It was enough to make him pull back, concern flashing across his features for a second but you yanked him back, clutching your hands into his suit and urging him with your kiss. You bit onto his lip, tugging. You wanted all of him, all that time spent apart made you feel almost frantic to reclaim some of what was lost. 

Steve growled against your mouth, your taste sending him right back to that first mating, how he couldn't get you out of his head, his Alpha driven mad to have you as his. His hand at your throat softened, slid up to cup your face, and then back to the base of your neck, digging his fingers into your hair and clutching, easing you back till your head tilted back. 

Panting as you stared up at him, you tilted your head back even further to let your throat flash, his gaze dropping to the column that bared his old bonding mark. It made his eyes flash almost possessively while he dropped his head and nipped along your neck, but never made that bonding claim even though he scrapped his teeth against it, making your body tighten, your thighs clenching as heat rushed through your core. His hand not holding your head still skimmed down your body, taking his time even though his kisses were urgent. “I never told you enough how perfect you are Little One. The only one I could ever belong to.” He breathed against you, his nose buried in against the racing pulse in your neck, drawing you in. 

Your touch was all over, recommitting the feeling of your Alpha against you. Your hands tried to work the fabric looser so you could get to his skin, but your hands were captured, stretching above your head to keep you pinned in place. “Please, Steve.” Your body arched, anything now to have him touch you, your Little Wolf was driving you mad with her song. She craved her Alpha, just as badly as you did.  

“I know Little Wild One, my Omega.” Steve nipped at your mouth, drawing you into another kiss that was deeper and more wild than the last one at first, slowing down into one of worship from him. His hand slipped between your thighs, gliding up to your center where you arched your hips into his touch. 

And this time being touched felt right. His hand cupped your heat, fingers pressing right against your sensitive spot and setting off your bundle of nerves till you were whimpering against his mouth. “Inside me Steve, I need you, not your fingers.” 

His jaw clenched at your words, the muscle fluttering with restraint. “We can’t do this...” His nostrils flared and he started cursing in his growls, catching your arousal and making his pupils dilate sharply on you. 

Your heart started to break at his words, a pained growl rising from you as you tried pulling from his hold but his hand on your wrists tightened and your teeth bared as you tilted your head, lust and anger taking over your features suddenly. 

His fingers never slowed down still bringing you higher, all your nerves firing pleasure through your body till it shook. “You cut me off earlier Little One. We can’t right now because it’s not safe.” His mouth nipped yours, risking the possibility of you biting back. His mouth dipped to your ear, growling against it. “Once I’m so deep inside you, knotting you to me, I am not going to be able to stop, not till you’re begging me for relief and then I still might not be able to. Be my good Omega because right now it's too dangerous for me to make up for all my mistakes while I am worshiping your body. Let me get you back to your nest.” His hand slipped into the band of your pants until he could feel just how warm you were, his touch expertly finding that bundle of swollen nerves and dragging calloused fingertips around it, circling and applying more pressure. Every little pleasurable nerve raced through your system. The touch of leather of his fingerless gloves made you whimper, arching your hips into his touch, letting yourself go finally. 

Your face buried in against him, still riding his hand for that relief. The spiral was building faster. Steve lifted your head from his chest, pressing his forehead to yours. “Come for me Little One.” He nipped his command on your mouth, pulling your whimpers and moans into him, all those pleasured sounds till you gasped, your gaze losing focus as you sank in against him. He let your wrists go, falling heavily onto his shoulders and he steadied you with murmured praises. “I promise Little One, I got you, I’m not letting you go.” 

Steve buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. Feeling his mate so close calmed his Alpha from fighting him too much. Your scent was warmth wrapping around him, that you were satisfied and taken care of, enabling the Alpha in his mind to settle knowing that you were safe with him. Warmth curled through him feeling you hide against him, his arms wrapping you closer so you felt safe in this moment. If he had it his way, you would be back at the apartment, treating you properly. The way an Alpha took care of his mate. His mouth pressed against the top of your head, pressing gentle assuring kisses to the crown.

If Steve could have, he would have stayed like that forever, let time stand still cause this was everything he let go of and somehow was given a second chance. You shifted in closer, molding your body to his own while you buried your face in closer, pressing your lips to his collarbone before pulling back to look up at him. “You meant it, all of it?” 

Steve let his gloved hands cup your face, leaning his forehead against yours. “All of it. I know I made a mistake letting you go and I shouldn’t have let my fear win over my common sense.” He swallowed hard, as if he wasn’t sure what to expect but was preparing himself. 

“Come on Alpha, we still have others to save.” You leaned up to press an assuring kiss to him before he let you go, the two of you now racing to find the hostages together, a team.