#Wade Ceramics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eupheme · 3 months ago

Text

— i’ll be there

[part iv of sugar, sugar] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 4.5k

tags: baker!neighbor!reader, logan pov, soft smut & fluff, oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, manual restraints PiV, creampie, light angst, references to anxiety, guilt, memories of canon-typical violence/ death, logan handling his feelings in his own way

a/n: after finishing part iii, there were two ideas in the back of my mind (this, and then fixing [redacted]) so I am back with a little more 💕

Sometimes, it feels as if he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Breath held - bracing for a blow that hasn’t yet come, each time the cracks lengthen in his walls. Letting sunlight seeping through.

So sure it’s waiting on the horizon for him, as it always had done. Has been, since that first night you spent together, all those weeks ago.

Finally allowing himself to exhale - for today, at least - in the darkened room.

It’s late when he twists the handle of the apartment door, easing it open. A habit now, how the keys drop into the ceramic mug on the table just inside, clinking against loose change.

His shadow stretching long across the wooden floor, cast by the light you left on for him in the kitchen. Fingers tug at worn laces, loosening boots that are left next to yours.

Funny how he’s able to navigate this space now, without thought. The old fleece from Wade’s closet slung across the back of an armchair. His feet taking him to the edge of the couch, fingers idly brushing over the stitching of the folded quilt left out for him.

One heartbeat passing, and then another.

He moves on.

The bedroom door creaks on its hinges, as he nudges it open wider.

Light pouring in, letting him see where you curl on your side. The space next to you open - as if waiting for him.

As if you knew he’d be coming.

All he’s wanted to do since Wade turned the car around was get back to right here.

Something loosening in his chest. Fingers working at the buttons of his flannel, then dropping to the heavy buckle at his waist. Stripped down, when he draws back the covers, and slides next to you.

You murmur his name, curl into him. Can’t pretend there isn’t a tugging behind his ribs at the sound.

His fingers drift across skin, tracing the strap of your nightgown. You lips curve up, eyes cracking open.

“You have a good day?”

Logan pauses for longer than he should, turning the question over in his head. Chooses to ignore it, for now.

Chooses to let his head dip, to press his mouth to yours, instead. Letting his mind shut off, letting it go silent for a moment.

Focusing on this, instead.

The tug of your fingers as they slide into his hair. Pulling him close - keeping him there, the sluggish movements turning more lucid as he deepens the kiss. Pliant becoming demanding, and even after the day he’s had, he can’t help the chuckle when your hand curls around his shoulder.

Urging, once more. Fully awake now, lips pressing against his jaw as he follows your whims. Settling between your thighs, cock stiffening with the way you nip at his neck. How you roll your hips upward, until he pins you to the bed himself.

“Missed you.” It’s sighed out.

Something inside his chest thrums, his heartbeat kicking up a notch. The answer coming easily, without thought.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.”

He means it.

Had left a little piece of himself behind when he left early this morning. The echo of your goodbye kiss lingering against his lips, as he had climbed into the car with Wade. Going north.

But he doesn’t want to think about that now.

Now, he’s letting his senses take over, an old habit. Focusing on warmth of you beneath him. Eyelids fluttering shut with the sting of your teeth against his throat. A twitching smile as his hands wander - letting you try to mark him as he finds the hem, slips beneath.

Fingertips dragging over bare skin. Rucking the flimsy fabric up higher each time his hips lift. A low sigh when he finally presses against your bare skin, nudging himself against the soft juncture of your thigh.

Your scent washes over him, drowning out the layer of thoughts that have chased after him all afternoon. Vanilla and sugar and you - he’s tried to taste it before, with the wet drag of his tongue.

Sometimes you smell like him, if he’s lucky, in the early morning, still tucked into bed. Cigar smoke clinging, from where you sat with him on the fire escape. Where he’s left himself painted across your skin.

It’s familiar. It’s as comforting as the pretty noises you make. Hungry for him, fingers tracing along his ribs. Slipping down the slope of his back, trying to tug you to meet him.

Logan is used to rushing things - wants to, after the day he had - but in the night, when he knows you don't have to get up early, it feels like time stands still.

He allows his movements to slow.

The mattress dips as he inches down it. Palms finding the curves of your tits, a soft squeeze against the giving flesh before he’s finding the taut peaks in the fabric with his teeth and tongue.

The silk darkens, as you squirm. A whine is wrenched from your chest, as his mouth closes around you.

The tip of his tongue flicking across your nipple. His other hand drifting down, hiking your thigh higher around his waist.

“Let me-“ It comes from you in a rush, hands tugging at the fabric.

He won’t ruin this one. Knows you like it - instead he balls the fabric from navel to sternum in his fist. Tugs, until your tits slip free.

“Fuck, Logan.” It’s laced with appreciation.

With need, as he sucks a mark against your skin. Another on the soft swell beneath, the pinch of his teeth soothed by the drag of his tongue.

Knowing what he’ll find, when he finally moves down. The fingertips that trail down as he kisses your stomach, your hip - ghosting across your folds, coming back slick.

They slide between his lips. An amuse-bouche to the feast laid out before him - unable to resist the urge to taste you, fingers spit-slick when they return.

“‘s for me?” He rasps, and a laugh slips from you - the soft, muffled sound dragging out into a moan as he traces your opening - sinking down to the knuckle.

“Always for you.”

It loosens a breath he’s been holding all day. Coming out as a rough sigh - your thighs inching wider as he kisses your mound.

Hovering then, just shy of where you need him.

“Really did miss me, huh?”

Can’t help it. Another unconscious nudge, seeking reassurance.

Your hips lift, seeking. Hands trailing down, fingers drifting over your tits, your stomach. Down to stroke your thumb against the bristle of his beard.

“Every time you leave.”

He leans into your touch. Eyes focused on the dark glimmer of your own, as he lets your fingers tangle in his hair. Let's you guide him, a low hum as he closes that final inch.

The tip of his tongue stroking against a spot he knows well, as your moan rips through the quiet. His name following with a soft whimper, and it’s then that his eyes shut.

Focused on the way you smear across his tongue. The wet suck of his finger, sinking into molten heat. Trying to grip him already, clenching around what little he’s given you.

A second teases. Slipping inside, as he tongues at your clit. As you pant, whining - nails pricking against his scalp. Thighs pressing into his shoulders, until he’s hiking one over, and then the other.

His hips flexing, rutting himself into the mattress as you surround him. Fingers curling and stroking, until you leaking against him palm. Until the quiet room becomes a chorus, his name a sweet song on your lips.

“Logan.”

Logan, Logan.

A name stamped on a piece of metal, but he’s grateful for it now. Grateful for the way it rushes from you, as if you’ve forgotten all else.

As he winds you up - your grip tightening, but it only spurs him on. Your breath shortens, as his free arm bands across your abdomen, leaving your hips to flex uselessly against his strength.

“Fuck me.” You urge. A hand kneading the flesh of your breast, the other circling around his wrist. Pleading, with the pinch of your brows, as your fingers flex against his iron grip, “Need you, Logan. Want, ah-“

“Come for me first.” It’s close to a growl, his own fingers never stopping. Feeling how you stiffen beneath his arm, on the cusp of something he’s more than happy to give you.

“Want her nice and ready for me.”

You moan at the command. Head tilting back as your body obeys - the “yes” that’s chanted over and over, pitching higher each time.

Stringing out, and then breaking. Your back bows, as the pleasure alights within. Coming hard with rhythmic throb he can feel against his tongue, that tight pulse around fingers.

He doesn’t let up until you’re squirming away from the press of his mouth. Puffy and slick where you warm his fingers, your arousal already leaking down to the curve of your ass. Swollen with desire, and he swears he feels you clench one last time, when he slips them free.

Another kiss pressed against you, one that has you sighing. Wriggling out of the twist of your nightgown, hooking it around a finger until it pools on the floor below.

Still begging for him as he lifts himself up. Closing the space between you as he shifts forward, palms curving against your hips as he kneels between your thighs. Your eyes drunken with pleasure up close - soft and hazy, your smile coming easily.

His hips rock forward on their own in response, unable to help pressing himself against you. A sticky spot of need left behind, smeared against your skin.

Your fingers pinch against his forearms as you push yourself up to your elbows, eyes dipping down. He knows you can see what he can, as his own head tilts - the swipe of his cock against your folds.

How they part for him, when he teases you - slipping the fat head against your entrance. Knows you imagine it - you’ve told him what you think about when he’s away.

How it’s never enough. Never him. Watched you show him how you fit your fingers inside yourself, but you can never reach the places he can.

He sinks into your heat with a slow thrust. You’re heaven around him, tight and slick and familiar. Teeth clenched as you make room, until he’s buried flush inside you.

Can feel your pulse around his cock, when his eyes close. When he lets all his senses narrow down to the space you’re joined.

Could never last, if he stayed that way. Would get pulled over far too quickly with the way you clench needily around him, trying to coax him to move.

And it’s here, as you beg him for more, that he loses himself. Hands flattening against the mattress as he slips half-way out - the jolt it sends through you, when his hips snap forward.

The gasp it pushes from you, your eyes fluttering shut. A sharp pinch of nails again, but it’s welcome - a low grunt, as he drives home again.

Again, and again. Leaning into the snap of his hips. Your hand reaching, drawing him down to you - mouth tipping up to meet his.

A groan, when you taste yourself against his tongue. Letting his sweep against yours, until you’re panting against his lips. The angle deep, with the way he hovers over you.

His hands fisted in the sheets, now. Using them for leverage, the bed creaking as he ruts himself into you.

A growl slipping from his chest when your fingers start to drift. Knuckles brushing the whorls of dark hair across his chest. Following the trail that leads down, past his abdomen.

The tips ghosting against your clit, just a tease before he’s shifting - a hand curling around your wrist. Bringing it up, pinning it above your head.

“Don’t need it.” It comes out ragged, when it passes his lip.

“Just me, right?”

Logan can take care of you. Stoking the lot embers in your belly, coaxing them to a burning flame.

He needs this.

Needs to be the one to give it to you.

“Just you.” The reply comes automatically. Your other wrist offered as you give him the control he desires, lifted to press into the clutch of his grip.

It makes his own muscles tighten. A deep clench, his cock throbbing inside you. Fingers pinching as he sees the way you give yourself to him.

Face tipped up, bare and stretched out beneath him. The pretty jolt of your tits each time his hips snap forward, and it’s enough that he’s closing those last inches of space.

Fitting himself against you, as his nose buries against your neck. Your thigh hooked over his hip as you chase his mouth, until you’re sighing against his lips.

Knows you can come like this, squirming beneath him, as his hips tilt. As he strokes against the places his fingers know well, your lips parting with a cry.

“Come on, honey.” It’s murmured out. Mouthing at your jaw, the word rasped low in your ear, “One more and then I’ll give you what you want.”

His other hand drifting - elbow and knees taking the brunt of his weight. Down past your hip until his palm curves against your thigh, hiking your thigh up higher.

Opening you up further, when he bottoms out. His breath hot in your ear, panted out each time his heavy sack kisses against sticky skin.

Winding you up, higher and higher. Your body arching against his - toes curling, a heel pressing into the mattress for purchase.

“Oh fuck, keep going,” You beg, trying to meet him - unable to do anything more than take it when he has you pinned like this, “Please, I’m so close-”

“Know you are,” He answers with a rough sound - more growl than words. The flesh at your thigh denting with the press of his fingers, keeping you still so he can pound against the spot that has you seeing stars.

“‘ve got you. Come for me, sweetheart.”

The whine that leaves your lips pitches high, the rushed plea dissolving into needy sounds. Muscles stringing tight, head tipping back as your breath grows short.

His eyes fixed on your half-lidded ones, your lips parted in pleasure. Feeling the crest of your orgasm - the flex of your wrists in his hand, the grip of your thighs as they press against his hips.

It’s different, like this. The pulsing clench around his cock, the press of your body against his. The rush that surges through him at the way you come undone for him - always him - how he’s never been able to get enough.

He’s following soon after, with a snarl.

Unable to get a grip on his restraint. Usually can hold out, needing more.

Another. Another. Another.

Not finished until you’re boneless- pleasure-drunk - and only then does he give in to his own need.

But tonight he’s wrenched over with way you tighten around him. Tendons flexing as the steady saw of his hips grows sloppy.

A punch of metal through flesh, as he throbs - that tightly-wound tension snapping as he spills himself deep inside you with a ragged groan, thrusts going shallow as the tight clutch of your cunt milks him empty.

All those muted thoughts inside his head fading to white noise. Drowned out by the panting of his breath, the thrum of his heart.

The rutting of his hips slow, as he comes back to himself. Always losing control around you. That tight leash slipping between his fingers, piercing through. The pillow tucked under your head shredded, looking as if torn open by a beast.

“Shit.” Logan grunts - as he comes back to himself, flesh knitting together, “Sorry, sweetheart.”

A groan, as he leans back - only to find his grip on your wrists had loosened. That your fingers lace through his now, careful of the tender spots between his knuckles.

“I’ll get you another. I’m-“ He’s starting, but then you’re smiling.

“Good for it,” You finish for him, breathlessly - face tipping up to meet his, “I know.”

Still so soft and pliant. Legs still hooked around his waist as his lips press against yours - urging him to stay.

So, he does.

He still hasn’t moved.

Sometimes, it feels as if he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Breath held as he braces for a blow that hasn’t yet come, each time the cracks lengthen in his walls. Letting sunlight seeping through.

So sure it’s waiting on the horizon for him, as it always had done. Has been, since that first night you spent together, all those weeks ago.

Finally allowing himself to exhale - for today, at least - in the darkened room.

Your nails drag against his shoulders, scratching at bare skin. A little furrow in your brow at the weary sound - unable to help the question that he’s sure has been on the tip of your tongue all night.

“Did something happen at work today?”

It’s met with silence, one minute bleeding into another.

You always seem to know. An innate sense, or far too observant - and if he wasn’t so sure you were human, he’d be think you were like him.

His breathing low and steady as the hours replay in his mind again, a warm exhale against your throat. Still caging you in beneath him, your leg still hooked around his calf.

You don’t push him. He knows what he’s like - that you’ve learned it’s easier to argue with one of the brick walls in your apartment, or to talk sense and logic with Wade, when he gets in one of his moods.

Only when the scratches of your fingers slow to a halt, does he answer.

Finds it comes easier, this late in the night. In this room - his tongue loosened like the rest of him.

“Didn’t go today.”

It’s accompanied by the shift of his hands. Grasping at your waist with a low hiss as he eases from you - your body carefully untangling, as if you’re expecting him to leave.

Logan doesn’t know if he has the strength to, tonight. Instead, he only sinks back against the mattress - his arm sweeping out, tugging you close as you tuck yourself against his chest.

Not knowing where to start, or if he evens wants to - his teeth still pinching at the inside of his cheek. Eyes drifting to the glimpse of the city outside your apartment window. The moonlight that cuts across the angle of his face, a path that you follow with the tip of a finger.

Supposes he could start at this morning.

“Wade’s been talking about X-Force again.” Logan’s fingers catch yours, flattening them against his chest. The words spoken to the ceiling, eyes still unseeing, “Keeps askin’ me to join him.”

You make a low sound at that.

“You don’t have to, Logan.” There’s a twitch of your hand beneath his, “I’m sure he means well, I can talk to him-”

There’s a bloom of affection in his chest, at how quickly you offer. Trying to protect him - as if you could put yourself between him and the ghosts of his past.

“That’s not what I’m getting at.” His eyes drag to you then, crinkling, “Thank you though, sweetheart. ‘s nice of you to offer.”

Unconsciously curling his arm a little more tightly around you when he sees the way you look at him - so fiercely, eyes unblinking. Before he goes somber, loosening his hold on something he’s held close to his chest for a long while now.

“Been thinking about it.” Logan confesses, quietly.

You’re silent, processing his words. The weight of your gaze settling over him.

He gets it - he’s felt the same. Hasn’t said it out loud before - no more than a non-committal sound, when Wade first brought it up.

“Think I liked being a part of something. Back in the void, it felt… good.”

He clears his throat, his gaze drifting from you again. The bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, fingers twitching against yours.

Had forgotten what it was like. Had rebelled even then - brushing aside the planning until Laura had found him by the fire. Even then he had wanted to discard it. Even as it festered in the night.

But even after everything, he couldn’t let them go alone. Not when he could help, this time.

“So I went today. With him. He was headed up to the mansion, and I thought I could do it. Go in this time, but-”

The sentence hangs, half-finished.

It’s not the first time he’s gone back.

Went the week after he first started staying with Wade. Needed to see if it was still standing.

If the sky was still blue above, instead of being blocked out with ash.

His body had rebelled the whole drive. Had only gone back once in his world. That time no more than a blur and yet the memories had still crashed over him, threatening to pull him under.

Even with the reminder that this mansion wasn’t his rang in his ears, it hadn’t done any good. His mind was never one to truly forget. Spent two hundred years watching places, people change. Ones that once existed, ones that would never look the same - they all existed in him, somewhere.

And even after everything - even after those bouts of not knowing who he was - they still managed to survive, broken into bits and pieces. Tearing its way through his skin to be known.

So even if moss grew high, even as it sat there - overgrown - the memories flooded back.

His feet taking root, at the gate. Unable to make himself take another step further - held in place as if by a force he’d encountered before.

Fleeing, like a scared animal.

But he’d gone again.

And then again.

Drawn back - each time moving just a little bit closer.

Each time still a mile away.

Thought maybe he could do it this time, when he wasn’t alone. Pass over the threshold and inside.

Maybe they’d still be there.

But…

“I couldn’t.” He manages.

Logan knew they wouldn’t be. It had been another knife between his ribs, when he found out they were still gone. The Logan of this world with them, and maybe it was better that way.

He’s met a few that live inside, since. Those who still carried on didn’t bear the hatred that his world did. Didn’t know him like he knew himself.

Didn’t know what he did.

Had only told a few, and even they didn’t look at him the way he was used to - and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either.

Ones like Wade - Wade who had noticed the way he stiffened at the steps to the Mansion.

Grown silent.

If it had been another day, Logan would’ve had something sharp and unpleasant to say about that. But there was a ringing in his ears. Tunnel vision, narrowing down to the old brick.

The dread hadn’t crashed over him this morning. Had been right - Wade’s presence had muted it. Made it bearable, until his eyes had lifted.

Reading the old placard affixed to the stone. The name - worn away, but he knew each letter, the shape of them, by heart.

But it had him giving into the feeling that he shouldn’t be there.

“Five minutes” he had been told. Didn’t know how Wade knew exactly how long five minutes had taken, but he had been back exactly as three-hundred counted seconds had passed.

The afternoon plans dropped - taking him along for a haphazard amount of errands. Laundromat. Grocery Store. Arcade. Discount Outlet. Logan forced to follow, until he’d been able to find himself again. Push down the memories, lock them away, as he always did.

Until it felt like it happened a week ago, instead of this morning. The endless chatter a balm, with its familiarity.

He tells you this now, slowly.

“Thought I was done running.” Logan sighs. A hand scrubbing a little too harshly across his face, pulled from yours, “Guess I was wrong.”

Your brow knits. The look you give him is soft, empty fingers curling.

A breath - as if you’re unsure how he will take what you’ve about to say.

But then it’s slipping from you.

“I don’t think you’re running.” It comes out quiet, but he can tell you believe what you’re telling him.

“It’s okay that you’re not ready. You know that, right? Not everything has to be all or nothing.”

Logan hums.

“Maybe,” You start, carefully. Another breath, and he lets his hand return to yours when you reach for it - resting across his chest.

“Maybe you keep going what you’re doing. Maybe you keep trying. Another step each time.”

There’s an age-old urge to rebel - to push your kindness away. To lean into the voices he’s brought over from his world.

But it’s hard to, with his heart thrumming beneath your palm.

“If you want me to, I’d-”

It drops off - but he’s certain he knows what you were going to say.

That you’d be there.

Go with him, be by his side - if that’s what he wanted.

He doesn’t know how to take it, your offer. Voice pitching low and gruff, as he twists his chest towards you.

The words coming slowly, and he finds he means them.

“Just knowing you’re waiting at home for me is enough.”

Home.

That’s what this place has become, hasn’t it? Wade’s apartment. Yours. This room, with his things tucked among them.

“I will.” You breathe, “Always.”

It’s a promise.

It’s one he thinks he might just believe.

His eyes flick down - and the dance begins once more, as leans into you. Done with words, for now.

The cracks deepen, as his hand slips up your bare shoulder. Cradling the back of your back, as your mouth meets his half-way.

Being the one to keep you close, this time.

Losing himself in you, once more.

Logan wonders sometimes what would have happened if Wade had pulled him into another world.

Would it have been enough, if they had been alive there?

But he might not have met you, there. Things might have not gone the same way, in the journey before. Another path taken, one where he had made it alone into the room with the Time Ripper.

Or worse, if he had been the only one to make it out.

Even those who worked outside of space and time had told him there was no going back.

He couldn’t fix what happened.

He could only move foward.

One step at a time.

Logan huffs, a breath of a laugh, as your own gradually slows. The second round and the late hour catching up to you, in the silence that’s gone soft, and the warmth of his embrace.

So many nights he thought about this. Certain he didn’t deserve it. Deserve you.

Always pulling away.

But tonight, your fingers lace through his. He’s tucked between your back and the wall of painted brick behind him, almost as if you’re protecting him.

Ears keen enough to pick up the faint clattering next door. A low murmur of voices, cadences he’s come to know well.

Maybe once, he can believe he’s safe.

Not everyone gets a second chance. He knows that now, and vows to grab onto it with both hands.

Sink his claws into it, if he has to.

And as his arm tucks around you like an anchor - he finally lets sleep take him.

if you've come back - thank you so much for reading. this series has meant so much to me, so it was very exciting when I was struck with inspiration for two more chapters of their story (exploring some ideas I hadn't yet been able to get to) 💖 I am planning to post another part next week, and this will be holiday-themed!

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader #deadpool & wolverine #wolverine imagine

691 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 6 months ago

Note

The idea of Wade as a used car salesman found a love of his life during his midlife crisis before he met Logan. They don’t have a clue that he’s Deadpool. They just fall in love with Wade the used car salesman Wade Wilson, even see him as a funny, harmless person till one day his partner showing a picture of Deadpool and goes “He looks hot, could we find some costume to wear next time we fuck, dear?”

Wade totally forgot that he’s retired from Deadpool cause he’s in his suit, ready to fuck the love of his life for eternity. 👀

Wade Wilson knew he was in love the first time you cried laughing over one of his stupid jokes.

You’re probably too good for him with your easy smile and kind heart, and he knows he’s punching above his weight when he asks you out - but somehow you end up saying yes.

At the bar that night he keeps you laughing until there are tears in your eyes and then continues the show in bed. It’s so lovely to have you all giggly under him, pressed into the mattress as he makes you cum so hard all you can do is moan.

You lie there, walking your fingers up and down his chest, molasses-slow as the streetlights outside your apartment silhouette you both in fluorescence.

“I like you, Wade. You’re nice,” you sigh, in a way which suggests you don’t often meet nice people. Ah man, he fucking melts. He’s never letting you go.

Your relationship is pretty easy. He never feels like he has to work to impress you or keep you onside, you like him for him. It’s a… refreshing feeling, from a world where Wade Wilson constantly feels like he’s too much.

He catches the Deadpool keyring on your house keys one night after the two of you have grabbed pizza on the way home; spotting the telltale red and black while trying to keep a pile of boxes in place between his hands and his chin.

“Oh, Deadpool fan?” he asks, trying to affect nonchalance. He sees you get a little flustered.

“I mean… yeah? Back in his heyday I thought he was cute, kind’ve a shame he disappeared. Merc with a mouth, what’s not to love?” you pause for a second. “He reminds me of you actually.”

Wade laughs at that way too loud and way too hard.

“What? No. That’s crazy!”

You throw him a side-eye but don’t comment further.

He lets it rest for a couple of days so as not to draw suspicion, but when you make yourself a cup of coffee and his own mask is staring back at him from the ceramic, he can’t hide his wandering eyes.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“Nothing. Just didn’t realise they made those.” He didn’t get a cut. Should he have gotten a cut? Would have been nice if whoever had merchandised his face had asked him if he was cool with it.

“Oh, look, everyone has a crush on at least one superhero, okay? It’s impossible not to. They’re everywhere and they’re hot!”

He lets himself digest this. You think Deadpool is a superhero? He didn’t get that much. Mostly he was referred to as “god’s curse to crimefighting”. But also you have a crush on him? Both of these facts are… interesting.

“I… think Deadpool is hot, too,” Wade blurts out when he realises he’s been silent for ten uninterrupted seconds.

“Oh,” you reply, settling down a little when it turns out he’s in agreement with you. “Well, cool! Glad we can agree.”

Phew. Got outta that one, then.

He really doesn’t think any more of it, or tries not to, until a couple of weeks later when you bring it up in bed.

“Wade, can I ask something kinda kinky?”

Cuddled in post-coital bliss, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, he pauses.

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely, sweet cheeks. I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

“How do you feel about roleplay?”

He turns to you with a grin which threatens to split his face in half.

“Oh, you’ve been keeping that under your hat!” he laughs, “But, in answer to the question, very positive. What were you thinking? Cop and criminal? Nurse and patient? I’m down to play any of those roles by the way, I believe in equal gender opportunities in the bedroom.”

You chuckle, but when you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to work out how to phrase the next part of the question, he cottons on.

“Oh my god. You want me to roleplay Deadpool, don’t you?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to! It’s just, you said you thought he was sexy… so I wondered…”

He puts a finger on your lips, stoppering the spill of panic from your lips.

“Baby, I am so down to clown that you might as well call me Pennywise. Let me sort the details and I’ll give you the best night of in-character boning that’s ever been known to man.”

You look giddy at that promise. Truth be told, he’s kinda excited himself.

Wade retrieves the suit the next day and feels a little weird putting it back on, covering his body again with red and black. When he’s done this in the past it’s in order to go and kill like, a lot of people, not to fulfil a fantasy. But hey - there’s a first time for everything. And it’ll make you so happy, too.

You scream when he taps on your window from his perch on your fire escape. Admittedly he should have told you he was coming, but he thought it could be a fun and sexy surprise. He was wrong.

“WHAT THE FUCK—!”

Wade whips off the mask as you lunge for your kitchen knife set, hands up in a gesture of peace.

“Baby! Babe, it’s just me!”

You go limp with relief, leaning against the counter to support yourself.

“Holy shit! Wade, what the fuck do you think you’re…”

You trail off as you take in the picture of your boyfriend crawling in through the tiny window decked out in his suit. An eyebrow raises.

“Oh.”

“Yeah! See, I told you I’d sort it.”

Anger and fear now completely ablated, you walk a slow circle around where he stands in your kitchen, appraising his look.

“This is a high quality suit. Where did you get it?”

“Peter,” he says quickly. This isn’t a lie. He did get it from Peter… Peter’s locker anyway. You look confused.

“Our coworker Peter?” When Wade nods you furrow your brow. “He… he hasn’t fucked in this suit, has he?”

“No!” says Wade with far too much force. Actually he can’t prove that. Now it’s an image he can’t shake from his mind. Not super conducive to the mood.

He takes a knife from his belt, and your eyes go wide in a mixture of panic and arousal.

“Oh my god…”

“It’s blunt! Well. It’s sharp enough for me to cut your underwear off, which I’ve been rocking a semi all day from imagining…”

From the smile which takes up your face, he knows he’s done right.

Any way you ask him to fuck you, he does. Over your dresser. Against your wall. While running the dulled point of baby knife over the curve of your ass as he pistons his hips inside you, getting the mess of your cum all over the front of his suit. It’s filthy. It’s fantastic.

But when you lay there cuddled up to his chest that night, Wade feels… conflicted. It isn’t that he’s lying to you, exactly, but it feels like he’s keeping a pretty fucking big secret.

If you knew, would you still like him? Still want to be with him? Having a crush on a superhero is one thing, but being with one is entirely different. Ask any of the assorted Spider-Man and their various fucked up partners. It isn’t always pretty.

As if determined to take his mind away from this thought you nuzzle into his side, blissfully fucked out. He buries his lips into your hair.

It never needs to be an issue. Deadpool is retired. He’s never gonna be used for non-kinky reasons again.

…right?

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

#mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu x y/n #mcu imagine #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #deadpool x you #deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson imagine

548 notes · View notes

lacroixqueen · 7 months ago

Text

mirror mirror on the wall stalker deadpool x fem!reader (18+, explicit non-con)

Summary: deadpool follows you when you go into your office bathroom to masturbate. mirror smut ensues hehe

Pairing: stalker deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: stalking, choking, non-con, office setting, bathroom, mirror

Part 1 and Part 2 but there's really no plot lol

You couldn’t bring yourself to focus at work the next day. Flashes of yesterday night kept clouding your concentration and taking you out of the moment. The lines on your screen that detailed the new promotion’s engagement numbers kept swaying to the side and blurring over. You tapped the tip of your high heel nervously against the floor, breath catching as you tried to complete your task. But you just. Couldn’t. Breathe.

It’s like you were unable to control your own mind. Whenever you tried to send an email or even open a file, thoughts of his fingers in your mouth immediately appeared in your conscience. Or how his hands felt wrapped around your neck.

You stood up abruptly, startling your coworker the next cubicle over.

“Y/N… what has gotten into you,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Everyone is watching you.”

“I just have to go to the bathroom,” you replied a little too quickly for comfort, brushing off your pencil skirt and darting down the hallway.

Beads of sweat were beginning to form at the top of your forehead, as you twisted your fingers over each other. You just couldn’t get him out of your head. You still have no idea what even possessed you to enjoy yourself so much last night, but you did and you hate yourself for it.

You pushed through the doors of one of the hallway bathrooms and immediately rushed to the sink, planting your arms on the marble counter. You splashed some cold water onto your face, trying to regulate your breathing.

Stop thinking about him, you chastised yourself, back stiffening as you took in your mottled appearance in the mirror. You decided to ruffle up your hair a bit and apply a new layer of lip gloss while you were at it. You didn’t quite understand why every single thought revolved around Wade. After all, he was the one obsessing over you, not the other way around, right? As in, he broke into your apartment and slept with you like you belonged to him for crying out loud.

And yet you are the one who couldn’t get him out of your goddamn head. You retouched your mascara a bit, lips folded into a pout as you continued to internally scold yourself. Your mind still flickered occasionally to the way his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you down. Or how his fingers stretched you wide open. And the way he-

Flinging yourself into the closest stall and deadbolting yourself in, you quickly unzipped the top of your skirt to slightly loosen the waistband. You leaned up against the wall, and rested your high heel on the toilet lid, allowing your hands access to your already soaked panties.

Sighing, you gently caressed the tops of your nylon stockings, working your fingers up to the divot in your inner thighs. You dipped your fingers underneath your lacy panties, rubbing your tight clit back and forth as you finally allowed your imagination to run wild.

Like how you wanted him to fuck you just as hard as he did last night, if not more. And how your skin practically melted underneath his leather glove. His hot tongue tracing the contour of your neck.

You sighed as you unbuttoned your sweater and white blouse, dipping your fingers deep inside yourself while moaning softly. You hated this version of yourself. The kind that gives into him so easily. The one that doesn’t lie so vehemently about not enjoying every bit of attention he gives you so freely.

You closed your eyes while you played with yourself, pretending that your fingers his. You could feel your cheeks flushing hot, your hair twisted into messy strands as you pushed yourself closer towards a climax.

“Wade..” you whined as you dug your heels into the ceramic surface underneath, feeling yourself dripping all over your inner thighs and legs.

Until you heard someone open the door. You froze into place for a moment or two, before stepping quietly on top of the toilet lid, attempting to breathe as silently as possible.

What the hell were you thinking, your thoughts raced at a million miles per minute. I must have lost my mind.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” you heard a familiar voice ring. “Masturbating in a bathroom stall at work? I mean you have really hit a new low, Y/N.”

Your blood ran cold the moment you registered who that voice belonged to. How did he even find out where I was?

His footsteps clacked against the ceramic tiles, the sound ricocheting off the walls.

“I never chalked you up to be someone so dirty, Y/N,” he chuckled, running the handle of his katana across every stall door. “I mean, this is something even I wouldn’t do. And I’m the kind of person who literally sneaks into your apartment and jerks off with a pair of your tights.”

“So that’s where they went?!” you whispered to yourself, before instantly cupping your mouth shut.

“Ooh, I heard you~” Deadpool exclaimed in a sing-songy tone. “You should just stop playing these stupid little games and get your ass out here already. We both know you want to.”

You steadied yourself on the railing, trying your hardest not to slip but your heels were beginning to slide off the porcelain lid.

“Eenie, meenie, minie, you,” the assassin called out playfully as he cut through the locks of your bathroom stall, whipping open the door without a moment of hesitation.

“Oh! I guessed correctly!” he celebrated, literally applauding himself for his efforts. “See, I heard you earlier when you were whining and moaning ‘Waaade’ a few minutes ago, so I decided to come in and investigate. But lo and behold, there was no one here! So I went and peaked in a couple bathroom stalls, and then I heard you talking to yourself and Yahtzee! Here you are. You know, you really are not very good at hiding. Something you should definitely reflect on.”

“Can you please get out?” you cried, standing up and trying to conceal the wetness between your thighs by pulling down your skirt. “I don’t know why you keep following me around everywhere but this has got to stop.”

“Aww, don’t be such a partypooper!” he teased, trailing right behind you as you headed to the sink to wash your hands clean. “I mean, I came all the way here to visit you at work. Don’t you think that’s kind of romantic?”

“You’re not my boyfriend, so no,” you shot back. “It’s creepy and it’s weird.”

“You’re breaking my heart here,” he whined, clutching his chest in a melodramatic fashion, as if he was about to keel over. “Plus, you’re also just being a really bad liar.”

“Oh am I now?” you said sarcastically, touching up your blush without even glancing in his direction. “Goodness me, you caught me red-handed. I am just head over heels falling in love with my stalker, mind you, the one who comes in and out of my house as he pleases? The one who breaks my windows and steals my clothes? Sounds about right.”

“Well, you sure sounded that way when you were moaning my name last night,” Wade grumbled, walking up behind you, a little bit too close for comfort now.

“Can you just-,” you hissed as you whipped around, exasperated at this point. You stepped back a bit, slightly intimidated by how much he towered over you despite you wearing heels today. “Stop. Doing. This. Whatever this is. It needs to come to an end. Right here, right now.”

“What, this?” Wade snickered as he tried to unbutton your blouse even more than you already have, his eyes glazing over your exposed cleavage. “Oh my god they are beautiful. Oh by the way, can I just squeeze them a little bit, or put them in my mouth, even for a second, oh please-”

“Nope,” you replied, smacking his hand away while buttoning up your shirt and pulling your cardigan over your chest. “Everything. The whole following me around situation. I don’t know what you are thinking most of the time, but you have already stepped over my boundaries and broken a dozen laws at this point. I don’t know you nor am I attracted to you so can you please just leave me alone?”

“Then why are you dripping all over the bathroom floor?” he asked, pointing out the very obvious puddle that has begun to form beneath your heels. “Look. I’m more than happy to go with your decision, but you're not really making a strong case for yourself here, sweetheart. Like, I’m a feminist for crying out loud! You know how much I respect women’s autonomy. I mean for God’s sake, Gloria Steinem would be rolling in her grave if she watched me walk away from you when that’s the exact opposite of what you want.”

“She is still alive!” you snapped, turning back around to finish touching up your lipstick. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as the assassin has decided to slam you against the marble counter, bending you over perfectly so he could admire the view.

“You know, you really are no fun,” he said, tone suddenly shifting, his leathered glove sneaking over your back and lifting up your skirt. “Ooo, black panties with a thigh garter. God, you know those are my weakness. You can be such a fucking tease sometimes, Y/N.”

He fondled the round of your ass before giving it a hard smack, sending a shiver down your spine as you tried to stand up, only to be bent over again.

“And I love the nylon stockings..” he murmured, running his fingers over the tops, sliding them underneath to tease the sensitive skin on your thighs. “Where were these when I broke in the other day? I would have taken them home with me if I had known.”

“You are such a sick fucking bastard you know that?” you cried, wiggling beneath his tight grip.

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” he replied, pulling the fabric of your thigh garter back and allowing it to slap back against your skin, leaving a red mark. He then twisted your thong between his fingertips and pulled them forcefully to the side. “But you’re also dripping wet, so who’s the real pervert now?”

He laughed, quite pleased with himself as he admired your tight, glistening pussy. He slipped two of his leathered fingers inside of you, gleefully anticipating your reaction as he started to slide them rhythmically in and out.

You moaned softly, giving into him yet again, your legs beginning to shake uncontrollably. He withdrew his fingers for a moment, stretching them out a bit, creating a thick string between them, only to shove them back into you.

You tossed your head back, watching him as he tortured you so shamelessly, as if it was second nature.

“Wade..” you begged. “Sl-slow down..”

“And ruin my tempo?!” he exclaimed. “You really ask for so much at once.” He went ahead and slipped in a third finger, eliciting another whine from you.

“I love the way you sound when I’m inside you,” he muttered, leaning over your back and whispering into your ear. “Can you scream a bit louder for me, please? Because every fucking time you let out a little moan, it just makes me want to fuck you ten times harder, did you know that?”

You nodded your head obediently, gasping as Wade spanked you one more time before pushing his cock deep inside of you.

“Do you like that, Y/N?” he said, abruptly lifting you up from your bent position so he could wrap his free hand around your throat while ramming into you relentlessly. “Watching yourself in the mirror like this? Seeing how much of a little slut you are for me, taking me so good without even the slightest objection?”

“I-I hate you..” you stammered out, watching as a rosy blush began to creep over your cheeks, your eyelashes fluttering as you felt him prod repeatedly against your g-spot.

“Again with the lying, sweetie,” Wade sighed, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “I know that you were thinking about me when you were touching yourself earlier, by the way. Most likely imagining this exact scenario. Really, you should be thanking me because I’m doing you a huge favor here. Most people who masturbate don’t just have their fantasies show up at their doorstep, you really are one of the luckiest people ever in that regard. It’s like you’re in a fucking fanfiction or something..”

“I wasn’t thinking about you!” you snapped, only to be punished with another smack on your rounded hip. “In your wildest dreams, Wade.”

He released your neck from his grasp, and gently unbuttoned your blouse from behind, slowly revealing your dark lacy bra and cleavage. Wade went ahead and yanked your arms, folding them behind your back while continuing to pound into you. “You’re so feisty today,” he chuckled. “I sort of like it when you’re like this.”

The squelching sounds from your pussy ricocheted off the vinyl walls. Every now and then you would moan his name, or beg him to stop so you could at the very least catch your breath, only for him to bend you back over again and whisper a thousand more depraved desires of his into your ear.

“I’m so close, Y/N,” he grunted, twisting your hair around his wrist and pulling back hard. “You did such a good job today, being so tight and sweet for me, taking me so well. I could fuck you forever if I could.”

“Ah, nwghn..” you managed to sputter out, gripping onto the countertop for dear life as he pulled out. Mischievously, he tucked his cock into your thigh garter and pushed it into your stocking, cumming all over your quivering leg.

You slowly straightened up your back, your skirt and heels absolutely drenched. You walked up to the mercenary, who was now leaning against a bathroom stall, looking quite pleased with himself. He admired how pretty you looked with your hair in a mess, lipstick smeared all over your cheek, and his cum dripping down your thighs.

“I.. will never forgive you for this,” you said through clenched teeth, sticking your pointer finger into his chest. You almost collapsed over with how much your legs were shaking from how rough he was with you earlier. Fortunately, he did manage to catch you before you fell onto the floor.

“Yeah, yeah,” he countered, giving your ass one last playful smack for good measure as you headed out through the swinging doors. “Have a great rest of your day at work, you dirty little whore.”

You sat down into your cubicle chair without speaking so much of another word, proceeding to type out your report with enough speed and ferocity your coworker asked you if everything was alright.

“I’m fine,” you said a little too quickly, sending out yet another email, and pretending that he wasn’t the only thing occupying your every thought.

#deadpool #deadpool 3 #deadpool movie #deadpool wolverine #deadpool x reader #deadpool x you #deadpool x y/n #wade wilson #marvel jesus #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #mcu #mcu fandom #marvel movies #marvel comics #tw noncon #mirror sex #choking

245 notes · View notes

gallivantingheart · 26 days ago

Text

pillar of warmth

who?: assistant!seungcheol x CEO/management!(f)reader

word count: 1424

genre/s: non-idol!au, hurt/comfort, angst

warnings: stalker, invasion of privacy (mentions under the cut), swearing, inaccurate corporate and construction industry mentions (pls I'm sick of food corps.)

synopsis: you finally find evidence of your stalker and call your assistant seungcheol in for back-up.

a/n: trying to stretch those angsty muscles. Also cheol's muscles in a plain black tee.

The way the controller flies out of your hand has you screaming, scrambling in thin air. You cringe when the decoration your downstairs neighbour got you as a housewarming gift teeters dangerously on the shelf and tips to shatter on the wood floor. Well there goes your Just Dance session. Carefully you stoop down to collect the pieces, going still when you find more than ceramic and a lightbulb. A device with a lens, now shattered as well. Some kind of other accessory as well, still softly beeping. Electrical tape keeping it all neatly twined together. Your mouth dries up and your stomach goes through your feet.

Your stalker. Has been beneath you this whole time. Tracking your comings and goings so easily - that was how he knew about the company drinks. You feel as if you’ve been doused in slime. The notes and packages of outfits just when you complained you had none.

I can’t wait for you to try it on. Please wear it when you leave.

You scoot back on your butt away from the shards, a choked sob breaking free. It’s been here for months. You let them right in!

You let yourself cry, the pause music in the background, feeling as if the rug has been yanked out from under you.

Then the sun went down and the switch turned itself off after being idle for so long and the silence returned you to yourself. You had evidence now to prosecute. Quietly you put the device on the coffee table and gathered the shards into a plastic bag, then a paper one from your last shopping trip. You grabbed your phone and changed as quietly as you could in your bathroom, nothing out of the question. Then you sat outside your flat in the safety of a bug-free zone and called Seungcheol.

He picked up in two rings. “Miss, it’s your day off. Are you okay?”

His voice is so soft and attentive your chin wobbles. “I- no I’m not. Can you please come to my building? We need to go to the police.”

You can hear rustling and banging. “Why! What happened!”

“I have evidence of my stalker and I want to take it to the police but I…I can’t go alone.”

Then still again. “What? You stay right there - I’ll be less than 10 minutes.”

“I-I’ll meet you out front.” You murmur.

He grunts agreement and his voice gets closer as he tucks his phone to his shoulder.

“Okay. Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“Oh no, no. I’ll be okay. Please don’t tell anyone though.”

A huff. “Of course not. See you soon, Miss.”

He hangs up and you wade back inside, picking up the bag. You'd put a sweater and scarf over top to hide your shame.

The elevator trip down felt tense and you wished you weren’t lazy and took the stairs. So was waiting in the lobby. Just as the white lights of Seungcheol’s car flashed over the top of the hill -

“Hey, I’ve been calling you. Are you hiding from me?”

A shiver rockets up your spine. A wafer thin smile on your lips as you turn.

“Huh? Have you? I’m sorry I’ve been super busy.” You mumble.

“Too busy for me, your best neighbour?” His easy smile sits funny on his mouth and makes your skin crawl, as does the way his eyes dance.

He’s seen far too much of you and your stomach twists.

“Yes.” You’re a little firmer, sight moving to Cheol’s car starting up the lane.

He peers into your bag and your heart lodges in your throat. “What’s that? Where are you going at this time of night?”

Then his hand is on your shoulder, too heavy. Oh God, oh no!

“I-I a friend’s place. She has a thing and…she likes my scarf. I said - well, I said that…”

The car breaks yanks to a stop and Seungcheol comes out flying, brow creased. You surge for him.

“Hey, hey, are you alright?”

You make a negative noise, mouth pressed shut. His arm curls around your shoulder but you lead him to the boot of the car. Yunho, chases after.

“Hey, did you just lie to me?” His voice is stern but shrill.

“Back off. We’re busy.” Is all Seungcheol says over your shoulder.

“No, no I’m not finished. You avoid me and now you’re lying. Where is our friendship, huh? Was it all shit to you?”

You drop the bag in the boot, eyes screwed shut. But you can hear his breath and see the beep of the recording light in your mind and you see red. You break free of Seungcheol and spin around.

“YES! Yes it is! Because you’re my stalker and you lied to me! You-you’ve been listening and recording me and creeping me the hell out ever since I moved in. Leave me alone!” You scream.

“He’s your stalker.” Seungcheol’s voice is a deep growl.

Yunho goes white then red and you’ve never seen a face so grotesque.

“You’re a lying, stuck up bitch! Some CEO bullshit when really you could have had it easy with me. I gave you so much and you gave me nothing! Didn’t you want me so bad you’d crawl? I heard you!”

A bucket of cold water. That wasn’t about him at all. That was about…

“Fuck off. Get out of here before you lose an eye.”

Seungcheol’s hand is splayed out behind him to protect you and you can barely see over his shoulders, a black cotton wall. Your eyes prickle and you tip up your head to stem the tears.

Seungcheol surrounds you with his body and that soft spiced pine scent you would sink into. He murmurs and hums, gently swaying the two of you. Your face is buried so deeply in his chest you can’t see any light.

“Shhh, it’s okay. He’s gone. You’re safe.” He says, lips in your hair.

You twist your fists into the fabric of his shirt. “God, it’s been horrible.”

“I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get this to the station.” He murmurs.

Seungcheol shuts the trunk and guides you to the passenger side, even going as far as buckling you in, smoothing your pants over your knee. He gets in next and it’s a quiet trip to the police station, seeing as he doesn’t want to push you and you’re not up for giving any info.

He’s such a gentleman and a pillar in your figurative storm, sticking with you the whole time you give the broken ornament and your statement. He only moves twice - once for the toilet and another to get you a crappy hot chocolate from their self-serve machine, and that was only because you tucked your fingers into your sleeves and badly buried a shiver from the barren cold of the station. The detective takes both the camera and listening device away for any assets retrieval, leaving you at the desk.

“Hey.” He’s soft and you turn.

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing great, you know. It’ll be over before you know it.” He continues.

There is a respectable distance between the two of you but you miss him. You need warmth that was human and safe. So you reach for him and grab his free hand, holding it between both of yours, squeezing it briefly before moving it to your lap.

“I just…I don’t know what to do next. I really loved my place but I can’t stand the idea of being anywhere near him any longer.” You sigh.

His hand squeezes back in return. “Don’t you worry - that’s my job now, as your assistant. We’ll call Cully after this and put you up there with her for the night. I’ll find a new place with as much security as you could want and by next week it will be a fresh start.”

As your assistant. You wanted more. But propriety said no. Your position and pay check said no. Your drunken confession as you burst into your apartment said yes. You bite your lip and nod. You didn’t like feeling so powerless. You were the CEO of Helios Construction for goodness sake, leading corporate construction in South Korea. You were supposed to be strong and dauntless. Instead you were meek sitting in a cold unforgiving police station clutching Seungcheol’s hand like it was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

“I- yeah. Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Se-Cheol.”

He blinks, surprised at your informality and gives you a warm expression.

#kbookshelf #seventeen fic #svt fic #seventeen imagine #svt imagine #seventeen au #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fic #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol au #written

93 notes · View notes

claypigeonpottery · 2 years ago

Text

sold

carving tiny magnets can be a bit challenging, it's hard to get much detail

#time lapse #timelapse #sgraffito #wading birds #bird art #ceramic magnet #ceramic art #pottery #video #claypigeon

40 notes · View notes

celestiamour · 7 months ago

Text

ft. logan howlett x f! reader x wade wilson — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ logan walking in on you performing rituals on wade┊0.7k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: stereotypical depictions of rituals (don’t like, don't read), establish poly relationship, canon-typical blood, age gap

➤ author's note: i have so many random ass thoughts about dating these two

it started with him hearing the sound of a match being struck before the light scent of smoke wafted into his room, making him stir in his drowsy state. it’s not uncommon for candles to be lit at night, but it was a bit strange that these had no fragrance at all when both of you loved “bath and body works” ones with an overwhelming amount of perfume in them. he paid it no mind, rolling over and trying to get some sleep, knowing that he was too old to be up so late past midnight and that both of you should join him in a bit.

he then awoke with a start an hour later when he heard ceramic shattering and was met with the sharp scent of spilled blood, realizing neither of you were in bed with him, and jumped out of bed automatically assuming the worst. adrenaline pumped through his veins and his heart was beating so fast he wondered if it would implode, terrified that his worst nightmare of being under attack was coming true.

“what the fuck??” he guesses that the scene unfolding in front of him was better than a break-in, but it was still the most bizarrely unexpected thing he’s walked in on (which is saying a lot).

“oh, sorry for waking you up! i wasn’t being careful enough… i was moving the table and knocked over the vase,” you chuckled.

“what… what on earth are you two doing?”

all of the living room furniture placed earlier in the day was shifted to make space in the center, the original carpet haphazardly rolled up in the corner was replaced by wade lying down on the floor, a crimson red pentagram painted around his body with symbols he didn’t understand scrawled everywhere and flickering candles set up at every corner illuminating the circle.

“well, uh… we just moved here so i was just checking to see if there were any lingering spirits or demonic entities! you know, how my mutation is contacting the supernatural… i do this every time i move…” you scratched your head, realizing how bad it sounded and looked even with the explanation. “i guess i should have told you what i had planned for tonight, sorry!”

logan knelt down to examine the substance, carefully wiping the edge of one of the lines with his thumb and immediately recognizing it as blood from the color and iron smell. being mutants with regenerative powers, injuries normally fatal to humans are regarded as nothing more than papercuts, yet the willingness wade had to donate his blood to this cause was still shocking. “and you just went along with it??”

“i will never deny a beautiful woman anything she wants, even if it’s my blood!” he declared with a thumbs up and a stupid lovesick grin on his scarred face. he probably thought the entire thing was pretty hot or something, which is so typical of him, maybe it wasn’t as much of a shock as he initially thought. “one-hundred percent safe, sane, and consensual!”

it clearly wasn’t the first two things, but whatever floats his boat since, again, you guys are mutants?

“aww, babe!” you placed a kiss on his forehead, making him giggle like he wasn’t being sacrificed at the moment.

“just… be careful not to burn the place down…” at least no one was seriously hurt… things like this were going to be a regular occurrence with either of you being the instigator, he could feel it in his adamantium-covered bones, and he’s too old to try and wrestle with his lovers about what they do in their free time. “i’m going back to bed..”

the next morning, he will be greeted with breakfast in bed and lots of cuddles and kisses to make up for disturbing his rest last night, which was a nice surprise at first, but it becomes a weekly thing because you and wade are like children who simply can’t stay out of trouble and need to constantly apologize to him over it. truth be told, as grumpy as he may look, he isn’t complaining about the amount of affection he’s bombarded with during the day, especially because it’s funny to watch the two of you looking at him with big puppy eyes hoping he’ll forever you for accidentally blowing up a neighboring building or something.

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool #deadpool x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #marvel #marvel x reader #x men #x men x reader

319 notes · View notes

sarahscribbles · 2 years ago

Note

fluff is everything, therefore:

I've been entertaining this idea for a very long time. Loki is a heavily touch deprived boy who needs all the affection in the world.

Now I desperately need a small drabble, doesn't even have to be long, of reader just...taking care of him. Calling him "angel" and watching him lose his MIND because no one's ever called him that before?? Reader making him food and looking after him when he's sick and just.....a small drabble. A cute little thing of just....Loki being loved

Because we all know the man needs it.

Anyway, mwah, hope this helps the writing juices flow :)

I hope this is what you had in mind, my darling! I know it's not the best!

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The dull clink of ceramic on wood makes you wince and freeze almost comically in place by the side of the bed. Barely daring to breathe, your worried eyes snap towards the god currently buried between tousled viridian bedsheets.

He doesn’t stir.

You release a slow, quiet breath, relieved that Loki is still sleeping so soundly, despite his earlier protestations that he was completely fine. He’s far from fine, that you’re certain of. You’ve watched how the summer cold he’s come down with has chipped away at him over the past few days, zapping his energy quicker and more thoroughly than he’ll ever admit. He refuses to let that mask of invincibility slip for even a second.

“Gods don’t get sick, darling,” he had said, though you could see the sluggishness that had crept into his usual elegant movements, along with the deep weariness that had settled in his eyes.

One hour later you found him sleeping like the dead.

He looks so utterly at peace that your heart swells with love for him, and with the familiar realisation that he’s yours. This beautiful man who has survived tortures your mind can’t even conceive of is yours. It’s something that almost has you weep. Out of all the people on this planet - of all the beings in the entire cosmos - it’s you that gets to love him, and you’ll never take that for granted.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes off him as he sleeps. Still a villain to most of the world, yet he’s curled on his side in your bed with tousled hair and pink stained cheeks. You can see the bedsheets shifting with the steady rise and fall of his chest, as well as the way his arm is stretched out towards your side of the bed, as though, even lost to his dreams, his body still searches for yours.

The man is your entire heart and more, and it’s moments like these you wish you could bottle.

Your hand floats to his face before you can help yourself. It’s warmer than usual and still smooth beneath your gentle touch that pushes a stray curl back behind his ear. You swear you hear his breathing shift, almost like he knows you’re there.

You never tire of this - watching him sleep. To have him sleep so soundly in your presence, to have him know with such unwavering certainty that you wouldn’t dream of hurting him, feels like a blessing from the gods.

He trusts you - completely and wholeheartedly - and it’s one of the greatest gifts he could ever give you.

His hair is silken beneath your touch and errant strands wrap loosely around your fingers as you bend down to kiss his temple. It’s barely more than a butterfly kiss, but you can’t help but let your lips linger briefly against his skin. You only wish it was enough to free him from the clutches of his cold.

The backs of your fingers brush softly over his cheek and you make to leave and let him rest, but you’ve barely pulled away when he grabs your wrist in a loose grip.

“Stay,” Loki says, his voice groggy and congested. “Please.”

His eyes are flickering open, but it’s clear that he’s still wading through sleep. He looks so vulnerable and exhausted and sick that suddenly any plans you had for the rest of the day are unimportant. You can’t deny this man anything.

Easily, you climb into the bed beside him, resting your back against the headboard and opening your arms to him. “Come here, my love,” you tell him gently.

He wastes no time in shifting beneath the sheets until his legs are tangled with yours and his head is resting heavily on your stomach. He grips you like he’s been starved of your touch, like you’re the one thing tying him to Earth. You can feel the unspoken plea in the way he’s holding you, the “please don’t leave me” that’s burning into your skin.

You hope he knows that wild horses couldn’t drag you away from him.

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you stretch down to kiss the top of his head and intertwine your fingers with his. His hand locks around yours greedily, as though he can’t get enough of your touch.

It’s fine with you, though, because you can never get enough of him.

You begin to stroke his hair, so softly that you’re barely even touching him, but you can still hear his soft sigh of contentment. “Feeling better?” you ask softly, running your thumb along his knuckles.

“No,” he croaks, attempting to twist himself tighter around you. “I fear this may be something worse than one of your silly Midgardian maladies.”

You can’t help but smile. Your drama queen of a god is still in there. “Hmm, I think you might be right. I should probably let Tony know I’ll be out for the next few days to take care of you. I can’t risk my beautiful boy succumbing to a dangerous alien bug.”

Loki doesn’t move, but you can almost feel the smile that mirrors your own growing across his face. “You can’t,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled by how far he’s nuzzled into your stomach.

He lapses into silence and you take the opportunity to pull him closer. He’s solid in your arms - solid and alive and everything you never knew you were looking for. He’s your sun and your moon and all your stars, and you can’t imagine your life without him.

Wordlessly, you stretch to place another kiss to his head, not missing how he hums at your touch. “I adore you, you beautiful man. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He pulls your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles in reply. It’s so soft and so innocent that you’re struck again by how you would burn down worlds for him.

Not five minutes later, his breathing turns even and heavy. He’s fast asleep, head still resting on your stomach and hand still gripping yours.

#loki #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki fanfiction

1K notes · View notes