#and he would wake her up by clutching her to his chest and be like “dear god please dont turn into a worm”

[scribblesofagoonerr]

𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓀𝑒𝓎 Our Girl: Growing Up | 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀

summary: monkey's dad has the social worker convinced everything is fine when the reality couldn't be further from the truth.

our girl: growing up masterlist

The entire ride to your dad’s house felt like a waking nightmare. The fear gripped your chest so tightly it was hard to breathe, and the closer you got, the more your stomach twisted into painful knots.

Every mile felt like you were being dragged further into something dark and suffocating, an inevitable doom you couldn’t escape.

Your social worker chatted idly in the front seat, her cheerful tone grating against the terror building inside you. You barely heard her words. All you could focus on was the rising dread of stepping into that house - a house that wasn’t home, and never would be.

“Alright, looks like we’re here,” Your social worker announced the words you had been dreading since you climbed in the car, “Ready to say hi to your dad?” She chirped, turning to you with a forced smile.

You shrank into your seat, desperately wishing you could disappear. The pit in your stomach grew heavier with every second, your hands clutching at the fabric of your jeans as if grounding yourself would keep you safe.

The memories came flooding back, vivid and sharp – The stench of alcohol on his breath, the cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to everything, the bruises he’d left on your arms when his temper flared. You remembered it all, every terrifying moment that made you flinch at loud voices and slammed doors.

And yet, somehow, he’d convinced everyone that he’d changed. That he was better.

You weren’t fooled – not entirely – but what could you do? You were just nine years old. To the adults around you, your voice didn’t carry the weight it should have. They saw your fear as uncertainty, your hesitation as resistance to change. 

No one wanted to listen to a kid. Nobody wanted to listen to you. 

Your heart pounded harder as the car came to a stop in front of the house. You stared at it, willing it to disappear, but it stood there, looming, mocking your fear.

Every part of you screamed not to get out, to stay hidden, to make the nightmare stop. But you knew you couldn’t.

Your social worker turned to you, her smile still there, but it wasn’t comforting. It felt forced, like she was trying to convince both you and herself that this was fine.

“Come on now,” She said gently, her voice warm but insistent, “It’s okay, It’s going to be fine. I’ll be right there with you,” She waited for you to move, but you just sat there, frozen, staring ahead.

Your body was tense, every muscle locked up in protest, “I… I don’t want to,” You whispered, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear yourself. Your throat felt tight, your words barely able to escape.

Your social worker’s expression softened, and she sighed, her patience unwavering, “I know, I know you might feel scared, sweetheart, but everything is going to be fine.” She told you in a gentle tone of voice, more patient than she was earlier when pushing you to say goodbye to Leah, just like she was coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding, “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Your hands were clammy, your palms sweating against the cold seatbelt. The world outside the car felt distant, unreal like you couldn’t quite make it through the fog of your own terror.

With a shaky breath, you slowly unbuckled your seatbelt, feeling your stomach twist in tighter knots. You hesitated before pushing the door open, the chill of the outside air only adding to the dread. 

Your social worker’s reassuring hand rested on your shoulder as she stood beside you, “You’re doing great,” She said, guiding you to the front door.

Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the earth itself was trying to drag you back. You could feel your heart pounding in your ears as you approached the door, the sound of the knock feeling deafening.

It was as if every second stretched out into eternity.

The door opened with a creak, and there he was. Your dad.

He looked different, but not by much. His scruff had greyed, and his eyes carried the weight of exhaustion, but the unsettling smile that tugged at his lips was the same – a smile that tried too hard to be convincing, like he was fooling everyone, even himself, into believing everything was fine. It made your skin crawl.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my kiddo,” Your dad, Mark, greeted you, his smile cold and forced as you stood frozen, clutching your bag, “You’ve certainly grown since I last saw you, haven’t you?”

His voice was too bright, too fake. It was like he was desperately trying to make everything feel normal, like this moment wasn’t suffocating you. But you saw through it. You always had.

“What, no hug for your old man?” Your dad joked, crouching down to your level and spreading his arms wide, expecting you to step into them.

“Hello again, Mark,” Your social worker stepped forward, her tone professional, yet polite, “I’m here to ensure everything goes smoothly with this transition,” She said, her eyes scanning your dad for any sign of something she might need to address, “How have things been, uh, since we last spoke?”

Your dad chuckled, the sound grating on your nerves, “Things have been good, real good,” He said, his hand resting on the doorframe as if were trying to look casual. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered nervously toward you.

“You’ve made progress, right?” Your social worker’s voice held a touch of caution, and you could feel her eyes watching him, weighing his every word.

Your dad nodded quickly, too quickly, “Of course. Everything’s under control. She’ll be safe here. I’ve changed,” The way he said it, the words falling from his lips like they were rehearsed, made your stomach churn.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second.

But your social worker seemed to buy it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and gave a nod, “Good, we’ll be checking in regularly to make sure everything stays on track for you both.”

You stood there, your body trembling, wishing you could disappear, wishing you could escape, but all you could do was stare at the door and wonder how long it would take for the fear to come rushing back, like it always did.

“I see you are still into football, huh? I bet you’re the player of the match every game,” Mark tried to make conversation, his attempt at interest ringing hollow.

You turned toward the social worker, fear flickering in your eyes, “I… I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to Leah’s. Why can’t I stay with her?”

“This is your new home now, kiddo,” Mark cut in quickly, crouching to your level. His voice was gruff, trying to sound kind, “We’re gonna make it nice. Just you and me, yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to be here,” Your voice wavered as you shook your head, “Why can’t I go back?”

“It’s lovely here, Monkey–” The social worker began with a cheerful tone of voice.

“Don’t call me that!” You snapped your head toward her, her voice trembling with anger, “Only Le and Jordy get to call me that!”

The social worker’s smile faltered, her face flushing slightly, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Mark sighed heavily, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Come on now, there’s no need for that,” He said, his grip firm, “Hey, how about this? I’ll put up some goalposts in the garden. We can kick the ball around. Sound good?”

“No, thanks,” You muttered, pulling away from his hand.

“That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for us to figure things out, right?” Mark said with forced cheer, glancing at the social worker.

“Right,” Your social worker agreed, smiling faintly, “Well, I’ll leave you to get settled in. I’ll come by in a couple of days to check in and make sure everything is okay.”

“I… I don’t want to be here,” Your chest tightened as panic set in, “Please… Please don’t leave me here,” You begged, your voice cracking.

Your social worker knelt down beside you, “This is your new home now, sweetheart. You’ll be happy here with your dad.”

“Yeah,” Mark chimed in, straightening up, “It’s just me and you now, kiddo. We’ll be alright, won’t we?”

Tears prickled your eyes as you shook your head, “No, I… I don’t want to be here. I want Le,” You whispered, clutching your bag tighter as the reality of your new life began to sink in.

But you didn’t want to be here. You wanted to be with Leah and Jordan, where you felt safe, where things still made sense.

“Take a seat kid. The match is kicking off soon,” Your dad’s gruff voice cut through the silence, “I’ve got a good feeling about this game, you know? Those so-called Gunners are about to get a reality check.”

Your stomach dropped. Football games meant pain. The outcome of each match determined the mood of the night, and you knew your dad’s moods could turn in a dime. The thought of sitting through another night like this terrified you.

You didn’t want the social worker to leave, but soon enough, it was just the two of you in a house that felt cold and empty. Your dad didn’t waste time in turning his attention back to the TV, flipping through channels until he landed on the match he’d been waiting for.

You lingered in the doorway, the silence of the house pressing down on you, suffocating you. The hum of the television filled the space, but the victorious cheers from the screen only made you feel more alone.

The game between Arsenal and Chelsea – Your dad’s team – and it didn’t take long for it to become painfully clear that Chelsea was dominating. Arsenal was losing badly. Your dad, a lifelong Chelsea fan, was practically glowing with joy as the goals piled up.

When Chelsea scored yet another goal, making it 6 - 0, your dad threw his hands up in the air, grinning from ear to ear and shouting in triumph, his mood shifting into something unusually bright and triumphant as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“That’s how it’s done, eh?” Your dad grinned, not even looking over at you, “6 nil, that’s how you crush them. Gotta love it.”

You flinched at the sound of his voice, the sudden loudness making your heart race. He was too happy, too loud. It felt like the rest of the world had fallen away as he celebrated his team’s victory, oblivious to the fact that you were standing right there, desperately wishing to disappear.

Your dad glanced over at you, a wide smile on his face, “You used to watch the game with me, remember? Not gonna get upset about this, are you? It’s a big win for Chelsea.”

His words hit you like a weight, heavy and suffocating. You didn’t know how to respond. His cheerfulness felt fake, like he was trying to force normalcy in a moment that was anything but. 

You wanted to ask if you could leave, go back to Leah’s, to somewhere that didn’t feel so wrong or so… heavy.

But you stayed silent.

Your stomach twisted as you watched him bask in his victory, the scoreline a stark reminder of how powerless you felt in that moment, how trapped you were.

“Come on kiddo, sit down. I’m not gonna bite,” He said, motioning to the sofa, but you stayed frozen in pace, “Come on. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” His voice was warm, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You stood there for a moment longer, the sound of the game in the background like a cruel mockery of everything you wanted. You didn’t want to be here, not with him, not with the victory that felt more like defeat to you.

But what could you do? What could you say?

With a deep, shaky breath, you turned away from the doorway and shuffled toward the sofa, but everything about it felt wrong. Just like the house, just like the victory.

You didn’t belong here, and no matter how hard he tried to make you feel like you did, you knew the truth.

As the night fell, the house seemed even colder. The shadows in the corners of the room stretched long and lonely, creeping along the walls. You sat there, staring at the walls, at the empty space around you, feeling every inch of the house pressing in, suffocating you.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional muffled sound from the TV in the living room, where your dad continued to watch the game highlights.

This wasn’t your room, this wasn’t your home. You didn’t want to be here, it felt wrong, like you were living in someone else’s nightmare, trapped in a place that wasn’t yours.

The walls, the furniture, the way everything felt too still – This wasn’t your home. Home was with Leah and Jordan, where you felt safe, where the air didn’t feel thick with the weight of expectations and disappointment.

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. The cold seemed to seep into your bones, making everything feel even emptier. You needed something – someone – but no one was there.

And then, it hit you.

You didn’t have your stuffed monkey.

The realisation made your chest tighten. You hadn’t even thought about it until now, but the weight of not having him there with you was like a knife in your heart. Your stuffed monkey was your comfort, your safety, the thing that always made things feel just a little bit better, no matter how bad things got.

But he wasn’t here, and it felt like you were missing a piece of yourself.

The tears came before you could stop them. They started slow, and then built, faster and faster, until your face was wet with them. Your body trembled with silent sobs. 

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to be weak, after all, you had promised Leah that you could be brave, but in this cold, empty house, with nothing but the distant sounds of a victory that didn’t matter to you, you felt more alone than you ever had before.

You curled up tighter under the blanket, hoping somehow the warmth of it would stop the tears. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, but it didn’t stop the pain.

The ache in your chest. The fear.

And as the tears kept falling, you realised there was no escaping this – no running back to Leah and Jordan.

You were alone.

The next morning, it was like your dad was trying to show you he could be different, to convince both himself and you that things were fine. He seemed determined to act like everything was normal, maybe even better than normal.

“Hey, kiddo,” He said as you walked into the kitchen, “I was thinking, you’ve got that football thing coming up, don’t you? A match or something?”

You blinked, surprised, “Uh… Yeah, next weekend.”

Your dad nodded, his smile awkward but genuine enough to catch you off guard, “I’ll come. Watch you play. Haven’t done that in a while, right? I reckon it’d be nice for both of us.”

You didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, you wanted to believe him. But on the other, you knew how easily promises could feel apart. Still, the thought of him showing up gave you a glimmer of hope, “Okay,” You said softly.

“That’s the spirit,” He grinned, ruffling your hair, “Hey, I meant what I said to the social worker. You’ll still see Leah and… Jordan, is it, yeah? I’m not trying to keep them away from you.”

That part, at least, made you feel a bit better, “You promise?”

“Promise,” Your dad said, holding up his hand like he was swearing an oath, “I’ll even drive you over there myself if I have to.”

The day passed in a strange sort of normalcy, with your dad asking about football and school. It felt forced, but you didn’t want to question it. You clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

By the evening rolled around, you were jittery with anticipation. Leah had promised to call, and the thought of hearing her voice was the only thing keeping you from completely shutting down. The house still felt cold and unfamiliar, but knowing Leah could be on the other end of the line made it bearable.

When the phone rang mid-afternoon, you darted to the living room, “Is that her?” You asked, her voice trembling with excitement.

Your dad raised an eyebrow at your eagerness, but he handed over the phone without comment, “Yeah, it’s her,” He said, stepping back.

“Le?” You said, clutching the phone tightly. As soon as you heard her familiar voice, the knot in your chest loosened, “Le!”

“There’s my girl,” Leah’s voice warm and bright, like a hug over the phone, “It’s so good to hear your voice! How’re you doing? Are you settling in okay?”

You sat down on the sofa, a small smile creeping onto your face, “It’s… Okay,” You said, hesitating, “I miss you, and I miss Jordy!”

“I miss you too, Monkey. We both miss you so much,” Leah replied softly, sounding like she was trying to hold her tears back but you could hear the quiver in her voice, “I’ll see you soon, yeah? And you can call me anytime. I’m always going to be here for you. We both are.”

The conversation went on for a while, with Leah asking about your day and telling you about hers. It was the most you’d smiled since you moved in, and for a moment, you forgot about how empty the house felt.

When the call ended, you handed the phone back to your dad, your heart feeling lighter than it had been earlier that day, “Thank you for letting me talk to her,” You said.

Your dad gave you a tight smile, “Yeah, no problem, kiddo. Glad you’re happy,” But there was something in his tone, a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Over the next couple of days, your dad seemed to watch you more closely, especially whenever you brought Leah or Jordan up in conversation. You didn’t think much of it, too focused on the small bursts of joy her calls brought.

A few evenings later, Leah called again. You were in the kitchen when the phone rang, and you hurried into the living room, eager to answer. But your dad beat you to it, lifting the phone before you could reach it.

“Hello?” Your dad answered, his tone casual. 

You hovered nearby, waiting for him to pass it to you.

“Oh, yeah… No, she’s already in bed,” He said after a pause. His words stopped you in your tracks. You weren’t in bed. It wasn’t even your bedtime yet.

A chill ran down your spine. Why didn’t he let you speak to her?

Leah’s voice was faint, but you could hear the confusion in her tone, “Already? Isn’t it a bit early for her?”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day,” Your dad said smoothly, his tone light but firm, “I’ll let her know you called.”

Your stomach sank, a deep unsettling feeling settling in your chest, “Dad,” You whispered his name, your voice trembling, “Dad… Is that Leah?”

Before Leah could say anything more, your dad quickly hung up the phone. He turned to face you, still smiling, but there was something behind his eyes that your skin crawl, “Nah, just someone from work,” He said, brushing it off, “It’s getting late, go get ready for the bed.”

You stood there for a moment, staring at the phone, confused and hurt, “But… I thought she was gonna call.”

“She probably forgot, kiddo,” Your dad said, waving a hand dismissively, “Now, go on. Don’t make a fuss.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to believe. Your heart felt heavy, and the unease gnawed at you, “Are you sure it wasn’t her?”

Your dad sharpened his gaze, and his voice became more firm, more final, “I said it wasn’t her. Now drop it.”

The finality in his tone made you flinch and without a word, you turned and walked back to your room, the unanswered question hanging in the air. The disappointment pressed down on you like a weight, and you felt a familiar coldness creep back into your chest.

Your social worker’s next visit came in the middle of the following week, a day like any other but still somehow heavy with anticipation. You tried to keep yourself small and hidden, out of the way, as your dad greeted the woman at the door, offering a forced smile that made your stomach churn.

The entire time, it felt like a blur, a series of questions and answers that passed by too quickly for you to catch your breath. You didn’t like the way your dad pretended to be someone he wasn’t, and it didn’t feel right.

There was something off about it, like he was trying too hard.

“Hey, kiddo,” Your dad called from the living room, where he was sitting with the social worker, “Come on in and say hi. They want to know how things are going, right?”

You shuffled into the room, eyes downcast as you felt the uncomfortable weight of the situation. Your social worker smiled warmly at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her gaze. 

You didn’t feel you belonged here. Not in this house. Not with him.

“So, how have things been going?” She asked, looking between you and him.

“Oh yeah, they’ve been great!” Your dad’s voice was too loud, too eager. He sounded like he was trying to convince both himself and everyone else that everything was fine, “We’re having a fantastic time together, right, kiddo?”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, and you knew what he expected from you. You had no choice but to force a weak smile and nod, the words too thick in your throat to speak, “Yeah…”

 “That’s wonderful to hear!” Your social worker smiled, unaware of the tension in the room, “Mark, you seemed to have really changed.”

You could hear the pride in your voice, and it made your stomach twist. 

Your dad’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was too eager to play the part, to act like the father he thought he should be, “Having my Monkey here makes me become the better man. A better father to her.”

The words struck you like a slap to the face. You couldn’t hide the discomfort that spread through you.

Monkey.

The nickname Leah and Jordan had given you, the one that meant something real, something safe. And now, he was using it, twisting it into something it was never meant to be.

You wanted to argue, to say something, but you couldn’t. You knew better than to challenge him, especially not in front of the social worker. You stayed quiet, your hands shaking in your lap.

“I’m really pleased to hear that, Mark,” Your social worker said, her voice warm, “And sweetheart? Are you happy here?”

The question should’ve felt like a lifeline, a chance to finally speak up, but it felt like a trap. The house was cold, everything about it felt wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

Instead, you forced out the words, the ones you knew your dad wanted to hear.

“Yeah,” It came out hollow, but you couldn’t help it. You were too scared to say anything else. The fear of what would happen if you told the truth was too strong.

The social worker didn’t seem to notice. She smiled and jotted something down in her notes, “Well, it seems like things are improving. I’m happy to hear that. It’s really good to see you two getting along so well.”

As she stood up to leave, you felt a knot of frustration in your stomach. You had to sit there, nod and smile, even though everything inside of you screamed that this wasn’t right.

Why didn’t you just speak up when you had the chance?

Your dad’s act had worked. Your social worker was completely fooled. You were stuck, unable to say anything that would make it stop.

When the door closed behind your social worker, the silence was deafening. Your dad stood up, his posture stiff, as if he was proud of what he had just pulled off. You could feel his eyes on you, watching for any sign of resistance. You kept your head down, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to give him any reason to lash out.

That same evening when he called you into the living room to talk, you couldn’t escape the tightness in your chest. You had to keep playing along, or it would all fall apart. 

Your dad didn’t seem to notice your hesitation as he sat down, a forced smile still on his face, “See, kiddo? Everything’s fine now. The social worker thinks we’re doing great.”

You nodded, the fake smile still in place, but inside, everything felt wrong. The house felt colder now, the emptiness more suffocating.

And then you said it. The wrong words at the wrong time.

“I miss Leah. I… I wish I could go back,” It was a slip of the tongue, but it was enough for your dad’s anger to return.

His face shifted instantly, his eyes narrowing and the smile slipping off his face, “You want to go back to them, do you?” His voice was scarily low and dangerous, laced with venom, “You want your precious Leah and Jordan? Too bad. You’re stuck with me.”

Before you could even try to explain, he stormed off, his footsteps heavy and fast. You heard the sound of the kitchen cabinet slamming, then the unmistakable clink of glass. Your stomach dropped when he returned with a bottle in hand – whiskey.

You could feel the terror building up inside you. Whiskey meant he was no longer the man he pretended to be. It meant anger. It meant violence. It meant fear.

Your dad wasn’t a nice man when he drank at all, and the bruises were enough to show for that in the past.

“You see this bottle?” He hissed, holding it up like a weapon, “You’re the reason I drink, you little brat. Always whining. Always complaining. Now you’re asking for Leah and Jordan all the time. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your body went cold. The words stung, but you couldn’t fight back. You just sat there, frozen in place, watching as he raged on. The fear kept you silent, kept you from speaking, from fighting.

“You want them? Too bad. You don’t get to have everything your way,” Your dad’s cold voice sneered, and there it was.

That haunting familiar tone of voice that sends a chill down your spine, and left you cowering in the corner of the room.

The anger in his voice was suffocating. You stared at the floor, blinking back tears, but they came anyway. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You had tried so hard to keep the peace, to make everything okay, and now it was all falling apart.

When he finally left the room, slamming the door behind him, the silence that followed felt more suffocating. Broken and alone. The house felt even colder now, the emptiness more pronounced. You wanted to scream, to run to Leah, to have her hold you and tell you everything would be okay.

But you couldn’t.

Your dad was right, and you were stuck here, stuck with him, and pretending that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[lvnleah]

viv’s last match.

bit of a long and kinda emotional one! <33

You didn’t wake up happy. 

The sunlight peeked in through the window, tickling at your face and making you scrunch up your nose. You tried to hide under the covers, squeezing your eyes shut. But then Beth’s voice drifted in, soft and gentle.

“Roo… time to wake up, baby.”

You didn’t budge. Your bottom lip stuck out in a pout as Beth’s footsteps got closer. Then the edge of the covers lifted, and she peeked in with a soft smile.

“Rory, it’s Mamma’s last match. We’ve got to get you ready, sweetheart.”

You huffed, a little too loudly, and her smile turned soft and understanding. Her hand reached under the covers to ruffle your hair. But you didn’t move, keeping your face hidden.

Today was the last game of the season and also Viv’s last-ever game for Arsenal. Ever since Beth and Viv had broken the news to you that she was leaving you’d been in a complete grump. 

You now hated going to training with Beth and Viv because despite you only being five, you were Jonas’ biggest hater alongside Buddy and Monkey. 

You’d gone from loving every Arsenal training day to absolutely hating them. Before, you’d spent most days cheering with Buddy or giggling with her as you watched the players run around. But now, everything felt different. Now you sat with a big scowl on your face, arms crossed, and made sure everyone knew you weren’t happy.

Every time Jonas would say hi or wave, you’d just frown harder, turning your back and sticking out your tongue when he wasn’t looking. Buddy and Monkey would laugh at your grumpy face, and even Viv would smile and shake her head, but it didn’t make the bad feeling go away. 

You didn’t want her to leave Arsenal. 

And most importantly you didn’t want her to leave you.

Beth’s hand rubbed your back gently as you snuggled into your pillow and Twix. 

“I know it’s hard, Roo,” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. “But you don’t want to miss Mamma’s game, do you?”

You shrugged, keeping your face hidden. But even as you did, you knew Beth was right. You wanted to see Viv play, even if it was for the last time in an Arsenal kit.

“C’mon,” Beth coaxed again. “I bet Mamma’s hoping to see her biggest fan out there today.”

After a moment, you peeked out and saw her waiting, her face soft and patient. Beth knew better than to rush you, so she just stayed there, giving you a gentle smile.

You finally let out a big sigh and slowly sat up, rubbing your eyes. You knew it was silly to pout so much, but the thought of Viv leaving still made your chest feel tight. Beth helped you out of bed, and after a few minutes of cuddling, you made your way into the kitchen with her and Twix clutched tightly under your arm. 

The kitchen smelt of toast and strawberry jam, Viv was standing at the kitchen island already with Myle sitting at her feet. 

“There she is,” Viv smiled as you walked over to her, Twix still in a tight grip in your arms. “Morning, meijne miesje.” she smiled. 

“Up please, Mamma.” You mumbled, lifting your arms up to Viv. 

Viv chuckled and bent down to scoop you into her arms, settling you comfortably on her hip. The familiar warmth of her embrace made the tightness in your chest ease just a little, but the grumpiness still lingered.

“See, isn’t this much better?” she asked as she kissed your forehead.

You nestled your head against her shoulder, not quite ready to answer. The smell of toast was tempting, but you were still too wrapped up in your own feelings.

“Mamma’s right, Roo,” Beth chimed in, plating a piece of toast and spreading jam on it. “You know Mamma wants to see your smiling face today.”

You pulled back just enough to pout at her. “But I don’t wan’ her to go away. I wan’ her to stay.”

Viv’s expression softened as she looked down at you, her fingers brushing your hair back from your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Roo. I’ll always be your Mamma, no matter where I play.”

“But I don’t like that you’re leaving Arsenal,” you said, your voice a little louder than intended. “What if I don’t see you anymore?”

“Munchkin,” Beth interrupted gently, “You know we’ll always find time to see Mamma, right? We can visit whenever you want and she’ll be home a lot anyway!”

“But…but Mamma will still be away,” you stumbled over your words as tears began to build up in your eyes. “I don’ like Mamma…being away.”

Viv’s face softened as she held you closer, “I know, Roo. It’s hard to understand, and it’s okay to feel sad about it. But I promise, we’ll find ways to make it work. You’re my baby, aren’t you? I’ll never stay away for too long.”

You sniffled, resting your cheek on her shoulder. “I just wan’ you here all the time.”

Beth came over, rubbing your back gently. “We’re all going to miss Mamma around here,” she said softly. “But she’ll still be with us for all the important things. And hey,” she gave you a little nudge, “You can even cheer for two teams. You’ll be the biggest Arsenal and whatever club Mamma goes to fan around.”

You wrinkled your nose at that idea, and Beth laughed, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Think about it, yeah?”

Viv lifted your chin gently so you were looking at her. “And guess what, Roo? You and I can make a special plan—just for us. How about every time I’m off and I’m home we’ll have just us time? Just Mamma and Roo day.”

Your pout started to fade as you thought about it. “Promise?”

Viv nodded. “Promise. And I’ll even let you pick some of the places.”

Beth, seeing your spirits lifting, handed you the toast with jam. “How about we finish up here and get you into your kit, eh?”

With a little more energy, you took a big bite of the toast, nodding. “Okay.” You glanced up at Viv with a determined look. “I’ll cheer the loudest.”

Viv grinned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, meijne miesje.”

For the first time that morning, you felt a spark of excitement in your chest.

When you arrived at Meadow Park, it was buzzing with people in Arsenal shirts. You clung to Beth’s hand as you walked in, feeling both excited and sad at the same time. 

As you climbed out of the car, you noticed Steph getting out of the car beside you. While Viv grabbed the bags, you took Beth’s hand with Twix tightly in your arms still. 

Steph spotted you immediately and came over with a smile on her face, “Hey Roo! You excited for the game?”

You clinged onto Beth’s hand and shrugged, “Roo’s a little grumpy and upset aren’t you, munchkin?” Beth laughed, playfully shaking your hand in hers. 

“Aw that’s okay, Roo,” Steph reminded you, crouching day to your height, “But you get to be Mummy’s mascot, remember?”

“Yeah! And I get to walk out with baby Lux!” You reminded Steph. 

Lux was the little boy of one of Viv’s and Beth’s, he was only nine months old and you found him funny. You found all babies funny. 

Steph chuckled, “That’s right! And I bet you two will be the cutest mascots out there.”

You made your way inside with Beth and Steph, and Viv followed closely behind you. Leah, Lia, Buddy and Monkey were already in the reception area when you, Beth, Viv and Steph walked through the doors. 

“Roo!” Buddy smiled, running over the second she saw you, “We match!”

Buddy was right—you both wore matching Arsenal kits, and her grin was infectious. But you still felt the grumpiness hanging on a bit as you glanced over at her and gave her a small nod.

Leah chuckled as she held Buddy’s hand, “You a little sad?”

“Roo’s still a bit grumpy,” Beth explained to Leah with a grin, “but I think seeing her best friend might help, eh Roo?”

Monkey bounced over and ruffled your hair playfully. “Come on, Roo. Don’t tell me you’re too grumpy to cheer for your Mamma!”

You looked up at her, clutching Twix tighter, and gave her a stubborn little frown. “Mamma’s still leaving Arsenal,” you muttered, just loud enough for Viv to hear.

“I know it’s sad, but well, think about it this way, at least she’s not joining a club on the other side of the world, right?” Monkey told you, getting a funny look from you. “She’s stayin’ in the wsl! Just dunno where yet..”

“That’s not helping matters at all, Menace,” Leah told her while giving her a knowing look.

Monkey exhaled a dramatic huff, “Geesh you try an help and you still get it in the neck, honestly, forget I said out– Oh! Kyra! You’ll never guess what…” She didn’t bother finishing her sentence, as she walked off to catch up with her Australian pal.

“And there she goes,” Viv murmured, shaking her head in amusement.

“Monkey’s on one today, huh?” Beth wondered.

Leah shrugged as she shook her head, “I don’t know what she’s on honestly, she’s all over the shop. I thought she’d still be moping like she’s been pretty much all week,” She mentioned gesturing to the rest of the week prior where Monkey had been dwelling over the news of Viv leaving Arsenal. 

Leah had also been dealing with Monkey and Buddy being sad and down with the news, she even had to go as far as stopping the hate posters Monkey was prepared to make for Jonas. 

“Monkeys’ crackers!” Buddy giggled, repeating familiar words that she had heard.

“That she is,” Beth joked in agreement. “Right you, shall we take you out to Grandad so me and Mamma can go get ready for the match?”

You nodded reluctantly, holding tight to Twix as Beth led you out to find Rich, who was waiting just outside the changing rooms. As soon as you spotted him, you let go of Beth’s hand and ran over, and he scooped you up with a grin.

“Grandad!” You finally smiled, running over to him as fast as you could. 

“There’s my little troublemaker!” he smiled, kissing the top of your head. “Ready to cheer on Mamma?”

You wrinkled your nose, “Yeah, but I’m still sad Mamma’s leaving.”

He gave you a nod, “I know, kiddo. But that’s what makes today so special, right? We get to send her off with all our love!”

You gave him a little smile, “How about we find our seats and get ready to make some noise, eh?”

You nodded as Beth smiled at the both of you, she tickled your stomach before kissing your forehead, “Be good for Grandad, yeah? Me and Mamma will see you in the tunnel.”

“Okay, love you, Mummy!” You said as Rich placed you down on the floor. 

You found your seats and you sat beside Rich with Twix on your lap, waiting for the match to start. Your seat was right behind the dugout with all of the other players' family and friends. The seat was right beside Buddy and Leah’s family, meaning the two of you could stand on the seats together and cheer away. 

Cheers rang around Meadow Park as the team entered the pitch for their warmups. As the players clapped their hands in the air in response to the cheers, Beth and Viv spotted you in the stands and blew you a quick kiss and wave. 

You grinned and waved back, the excitement bubbling up and momentarily pushing away the sadness. Beside you, Buddy bounced on her seat, waving both hands in the air as Leah blew her a kiss too.

“They waving at us!” Buddy squealed, turning to face Amanda, “Nana! Mummy’s waving!”

As kickoff grew closer, more people started to fill Meadow Park. Lots of them had signs for Viv and the Netherlands flag, you found it fun to look around and see what they say. 

Once warmups were over, you made your way down to the tunnel Viv’s friend, Nathalja, as she carried her little boy Lux down. Beth was near the front, right behind Leah, and instantly smiled as she saw you. 

“How’s my little munchkin doing?” She asked, crouching down to you. “You ready?”

You nodded, your fingers anxiously going to your mouth as your other arm her Twix. “Take those fingers out, little miss!” Beth joked, pulling your hand down. 

You lowered your hand with a sheepish smile. As the line began to move, you walked out holding Beth’s hand as she held Lux on her hip. 

You held onto Beth’s hand tightly as she walked you over to where the teams were lining up. Cheers rang out around Meadow Park as everyone lined up. You looked over and saw Viv at the subbench with Rich standing behind her in the stands.

"C'mon, munchkin!" Beth smiled as the line began to move, "Remember to high-five everyone!"

You anxiously shook your head as you got closer to the referee who were all crouched down, ready and waiting. “Are you going to be shy?” Beth chuckled. 

Once you reached the end of the line, Beth let you over to where the team photo was going to be taken. “Wanna be in the team photo, Roo?”

You nodded before following Beth over to where the team were now lining up. She crouched down and stood you in front of her while she positioned Lux to face the front. You made sure that Twix was facing the front too. 

After the photos were taken, Beth stood up, “Okay, let’s go over to Mamma.”

You ran straight over to Viv, crashing right into her chest as she scooped you up, “Well done, Roo! Let’s take you to Grandad, yeah?”

You shook your head, “No! I wan’ sit on the bench with you, Mamma.”

“You wanna sit with me?” Viv double-checked, getting a nod in response from you. “That’s fine, mijn meisje.”

Viv took you over to the subbench and sat down with you on her lap. Settling onto Viv’s lap, you clung to her tightly, your arms wrapped around her neck and your cheek pressed against her shoulder. 

“Comfortable, Roo?” Viv asked, her voice soft as she adjusted you slightly to make sure you were settled.

You nodded against her shoulder. “Mhm. Can I stay here the whole time, Mamma?”

Viv chuckled, brushing her hand over your back. “I think you’ll have to go back to Grandad after a little while. But for now, we can sit here together, okay?”

As the others joined the bench, you peeked up to see them smiling at you. “Hey, Roo!” Teyah greeted you with a big grin, reaching over to gently tickle your side as she sat down beside Viv. “You’re keeping Mamma company, huh?”

You giggled softly, nodding, though you tighten your grip on Viv.

The match soon started and by the seventeenth minute, Alessia had scored a goal assisted by Emily and another soon followed in the twenty-fourth. You jumped up from Viv’s lap and started to cheer, feeling a bit more happier. 

After that, the first half flew by quickly and before you knew it half time was over and the girls were back on the pitch. The first twenty minutes went by quickly, and Arsenal were given a penalty which Kim ended up missing. 

In the sixty-first minute, three changes were made and Viv was brought on. You were sad about her leaving you on the bench but it meant that you got to sit with Steph instead.  Kyra, Steph and Alessia left the pitch, hugging Viv tightly as Frida, Laia and Viv took their places.

“Hey, Roo!” Steph smiled, lifting you up off of the seat before settling you on her lap. “You enjoying the match?”

You shrugged, snuggling into her as you held Twix close to you, “Mamma leaving…”

Steph sighed, brushing a stray hair away from your face, “I know, it’s sad, isn’t it? But let’s cheer so loud for her, yeah?”

You nodded your head before moving your attention to Viv and Beth on the pitch. Cheers and chants once again rang out around Meadow Park. You watched as Leah kicked the ball to Beth who then passed it perfectly to Viv, giving her the chance to score her last goal. With a swift touch, she sent the ball flying into the net.

You screamed so loud Steph thought your voice might give out. “She scored! Mamma scored!”

Steph laughed as she tried to calm you down. “Alright, alright, settle down, little champ!”

After that, the last thirty minutes flew by and by the end, the girls had won 5-0. Once the final whistle blew, Steph carried you onto the pitch and over to Beth and Viv who we’re currently hugging. 

As you were carried across the pitch by Steph, the crowd’s cheers and clapping seemed to fade into the background. You could see Mamma and Beth in the middle of the celebration, surrounded by their teammates. Beth was laughing, her eyes a bit watery, and Steph set you down gently just a few steps from them, you rushed forward, legs carrying you faster than you could have imagined. The moment Viv saw you, a smile grew on her face, and she crouched down, arms open wide. You collided into her, squeezing her tightly as if she might disappear if you let go.

“Did you have fun?” Viv said softly, her voice full of affection as she kissed the top of your head.

Beth lifted you up onto her hip, “You did so well today, munchkin!”

You looked at her with a soft frown still tugging at your lips. “I still don’t want Mamma to leave.”

Beth’s hand moved to your hair, brushing it softly as she nodded, her eyes a little misty. “I know, munchkin. I’m going to miss her too, but we’ll always be able to see her!”

Viv smiled and lifted you into her arms from Beth’s, cradling you against her chest. “Yeah, think about how many fun sleepovers we’ll be able to have and all of the fun stuff you’ll be able to do!” Viv said, trying to lighten your mood. 

The team gathered for their final round of hugs and goodbye and Viv held you a little tighter, her eyes scanning the pitch, knowing this was her final moment at Arsenal. You nestled your head against her shoulder, holding Twix tightly against your neck. 

“Mamma needs to go get ready for her speech, are you gonna go with Mummy?” Viv told you as your head rested on her shoulder. 

Beth held her arms out to you, a soft smile on her face. “Come on, Roo. Let’s go wait for Mamma while she gets ready.”

You reached for her, your small arms wrapping tightly around her neck as Viv passed you over. She pressed a kiss to your temple before walking off with a reassuring smile, though you could see the hint of sadness in her eyes.

Beth guided you towards where the team was starting to form a guard of honour. Vic was already there, waiting for you as Beth placed you down on the ground. 

“You play football with me, Vic?” You asked tugging on her hand. “I don’ wanna stand here!”

“How about we play after Mamma’s speech yeah?” Vic said as she picked you up with ease, settling you on her hip. “Look, Sabs and Kaylan are gonna do their speech then it’s Mamma’s turn!”

You frowned slightly but nodded, resting your head against Vic’s shoulder. The crowd was still buzzing with excitement, and you could hear Beth’s voice behind you, laughing softly as she chatted with Steph and Leah.

As the speeches began, you stayed tucked against Vic, her hand lightly rubbing your back. Sab and Kaylan went first before it was Viv’s turn. The crowd erupted in applause as she walked down the guard of honour. 

You didn’t really pay attention to any of the speeches, you just rested your head on Vic’s shoulder and fiddled with Twix’s ear. Beth stood a few steps away from Steph, her arms wrapped around Steph as she tried to hold it together. You noticed the way her lips pressed tightly together, and even at your young age, you could tell she was feeling sad.

“Mummy?” you whispered, leaning slightly toward her.

Beth looked over, her expression softening as she met your eyes. “Yeah, Roo?”

“You’re sad?” you said matter-of-factly, your small voice full of concern.

Beth blinked, caught off guard, and then let out a soft laugh as she stepped closer to brush a hand over your hair. “A little bit, munchkin”

The speeches ended and the team began gathering for a photo with all the staff. Vic carried you over to join the group, Beth reached out to take you, settling you into her lap as the staff and players arranged themselves.

“Smile, Roo,” Beth whispered, tickling your stomach, her voice soft and encouraging.

You looked up at her, noticing the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Reaching up, you gently placed your hand on her cheek. “Don’t be sad, Mummy. I love you.”

Beth’s eyes filled with tears, but she managed a shaky laugh. “I love you too, munchkin. So, so much.”

The photo was taken, and after a few more pictures, you joined Beth and Viv for their lap of thank-yous. Viv carried baby Lux in her arms, while Beth held your hand tightly as you walked around the pitch together. Fans cheered and waved, and you waved back shyly as they called your name, though you stayed close to your mums.

Afterwards, Viv hoisted you onto her shoulders, letting you take in the view from up high. You giggled as she bounced you gently, her hands securely holding your legs. “This is fun, Mamma!”

Viv laughed, her voice full of warmth despite the bittersweetness of the moment. “I’m glad, Roo.”

Eventually, you spotted Buddy and Monkey playing nearby, and you wiggled excitedly. “Can I go play, Mamma?”

Viv nodded, “Just stay where we can see you and if you’re not with us stick with Monkey or one of your Aunties okay?”

You nodded as Viv set you down, “Okay, Mamma!” You chirped, running off with Twix tucked under your arm still. 

You darted off towards Buddy and Monkey, your laughing soon ringing out as you joined their little makeshift game with Kyra. Beth and Viv stood off to the side, keeping an eye on you as they chatted with a few of their friends and family. 

When it was finally time to leave, you started to grow tired. You waited outside with Rich while Beth and Viv got the bags before heading home. 

“Mamma? Up please?” You yawned, holding your arms up, “Don’ wanna walk.”

Viv turned around at the sound of your small voice, she quickly scooped you up into her arms, cradling you against her chest. “Of course, Roo,” she said softly, adjusting her hold to make sure you were comfortable. “You’ve had a big day, haven’t you?”

You snuggled into her, your small body already relaxing in her embrace. “Mhm… I love you, Mamma,” you mumbled sleepily, your voice thick with drowsiness.

Viv smiled, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “I love you too, Roo. So much.”

Beth, who had just finished gathering everything, walked over with a tired but content smile on her face. “You ready to go home, munchkin?” she asked, her voice soft as she looked at you in Viv’s arms.

You nodded slowly, your eyes barely staying open. “Yeah… home…”

Beth reached over and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before looking at Viv. “I think it’s time we get you to bed. You’ve had a long, exciting day.”

Viv nodded in agreement as she carefully adjusted her grip on you. “Let’s get you home, Roo. Time for some rest.”

Beth led the way to the car, Viv following closely behind. As soon as you were settled in your seat, Viv leaned in and buckled you in, her heart aching at how small and fragile you seemed at that moment. “We’ll be home soon, sweetheart, okay?”

You gave a soft nod, clutching Twix to your chest as your eyelids fluttered shut. Beth and Viv exchanged a quiet, loving glance before getting into the car and driving home, the soft hum of the engine lulling you to sleep in the backseat.

It had been a day full of joy, emotion, and change, but as long as you were all together, everything felt just right.

[deadhands69]

Hitching a Ride

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader 

Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader

[separately]

Choose your own adventure with Shig//Dabi routes. This chapter has shorter optional sections and an extra shared part to scroll to at the end. 

part 1 - this is part 2

As you crack your eyes, the golden light breaks through the horizon. In your bleary vision, you notice that the driver has changed. You can hear Spinner’s gentle snores a seat back while Twice is behind the wheel. He hums along to the radio while his navigator, Toga, is still passed out. Her arms wrapped around a giant bag of gummy bears. 

You don't recall waking up when they switched, but you decide quickly that Twice is a better driver. The van rolls smoothly over the neverending stretch of road you can see above the dashboard. 

It feels like a dream. 

Tomura Shigaraki ᝰ⛐ 

Your head is still on Shigaraki’s shoulder, his face glowing in the light as you clutch the sleeve of his sweatshirt. You don’t recall cuddling up to him, but it would appear that your sleeping body had its own agenda. Not that you mind, he’s pretty and the warmth of his body is a nice change from your usual mornings. He begins to stir so you slowly extricate yourself from his arm. 

For the first time since climbing into this van, you have a chance to really look at him. He's beautiful. The morning glow illuminating his features. 

A bump in the road jolts everyone awake. 

Groggily, Shigaraki opens his eyes. “What time is it?”

“7:48,” Twice answers, “and we’re about fifteen minutes out from our next gas station stop.”

“Cool,” he mumbles, leaning back into the window.

Pulling into the parking lot, he perks up again. 

“Everyone remember the rules? If you see a wanted sign or yourself on the news-”

“Leave,” the group grumbles. 

“And if you’re going to steal anything-”

“Do it quickly,” Toga finishes, “yeah, yeah. We’ve been over this.”

“You have five minutes,” he reiterates. 

The group piles out quickly, spreading in every direction. You're a bit slower, grabbing your bag before you make your way towards the restroom to wash your face and clean up a bit. 

A man bumps into you. Instinctively you yank your bag away, jumping more than necessary in the process. 

He glances at the lumpy cash-filled sack before looking at you knowingly. No one has explicitly asked about it and you appreciate that. Even if you know you look like a stereotypical bank robber in an old movie. 

[scroll to continue the story] 

Dabi/Touya Todoroki ᝰ⛐

Your head rests on Dabi's chest, one of his arms slung casually around your shoulders. You feel the warmth of his body against yours, it's comforting in a way you haven't experienced in a while. You remember him falling asleep before you, hands folded in his lap. He must have moved in his sleep, you both did. In any case, you definitely don't mind. 

A bump in the road jostles you all, making him jump in his seat. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbles, moving his arm. 

“No, it's totally okay,” you respond. More than okay. 

The two of you sit quietly, looking out the window but with occasional glances at each other. It's nice, you decide, having someone to pay attention to. Having someone paying attention to you. 

In almost no time, the van rolls into a gas station parking lot. 

The group grumbles their way through some ground rules, but you're hardly listening. You've been to a gas station before. 

Packing up your only belongings, the giant bag of stolen money at your feet, you climb out of the van quickly as the doors open. 

A man bumps into you on his way out the door, making you jump back and wrap your arms around your bag. 

“A little overprotective of that, huh?”

You instinctively pull the lumpy sack a closer at the mention of it but he makes no moves to press further. Instead, he just rolls his beautiful eyes. 

“Come on,” he begins walking towards the back of the store, “Shigaraki will be pissed if we drag our feet in here.”

⛙ Continued ⛙

While in the bathroom, you transfer some of the money to your pocket. For the first time, actually seeing the contents of the bag. Some combination of excitement, shock, and terrifying protectiveness overwhelms you. You've never seen, let alone been in possession of, that much money in your life. And, so far, you got away with it. A pang of anxiety shoots through you. 

Trying to tuck the feeling away, you splash some cold water on your face. Pull yourself together, it's fine. 

Rushing out the door, you grab a toothbrush, get something to eat and drink, then head outside to meet up with everyone else. 

Dabi is smoking by road; Spinner is filling the gas tank. Only Magne has returned to her seat. Even Shigaraki broke his five minute rule, filling a less expensive soft drink cup with coffee. 

You watch as Twice and Toga debate over candy flavors before shoving them all in their pockets. Compress is nowhere to be found. 

Eventually, everyone is wrangled comes back together and the van moves on. 

The day flies by quickly. 

“I'm hungry,” whines Toga from the passenger seat, “I've eaten nothing but gummy bears for three days now!”

“And who's fault is that?” asks Dabi, “you should have stolen more than candy when we stopped earlier.”

She's not the only one though, none of you have had “real” food for a while and you're starting to feel it. 

A few minutes later, you see a fast food drive thru sign in the distance and offer to pay. It's the least you can do for the ride. 

“Welcome ta Fat Gums, can I take your order,” a grouchy voice rings out through the speaker. It's more of a command than an ask. 

Toga picks half the dessert menu and a small order of fries. 

Both Dabi and Shigaraki barely order anything, even if you know they have to be starving. 

Halfway through ordering, you hear a loud scream coming from the building. 

The voice on the speaker groans then continues like it's nothing.

“Pull up ta the next window!” without turning the headset off, he continues, “has no one started the fries? Do I have to do everything around here?”

When the van rolls around the building, the window opens and a cloud of black smoke billows out. You hand the money to a muscular arm you can only barely make out as the air clears. 

“Soy Sauce!” yells the angry one who you now assume is shift manager. 

“I'm on break,” a voice answers. 

“Not now you aren't! You're on grill,” he yells, still not realizing the microphone is on, “Dunce Face electrocuted himself again.”

“Again?? How? I thought we made that harder to lick?” 

Through the window you watch a different cloud of smoke follow the dark haired boy you know as ‘Soy Sauce’ as the bathroom door opens. In a booth nearby, a very dazed blonde is drooling on himself.

The food is still burning. 

“Um, is he okay?” you ask. 

“Oh, yeah,” the red haired boy handing you change responds, a little too cheerfully. “Don't worry, this happens all the time.”

Through the hazy air, you notice a girl with pink hair dancing around the kitchen. She seems to be tasked with filling the soft drink cups; they're overflowing.

It takes a solid fifteen minutes for your food to come out, the boy stationed at the register awkwardly attempting to make conversation with what he assumes is a very unconventional church group. There's an air of discomfort around everyone involved, disrupted only by the sporadic yells coming from in the building. Finally, four large bags of food make their way into your hands. 

“I'm really sorry about them,” he says with an awkward smile before whispering, “we threw some extra fries in there. On the house.”

You thank him and the van lurches back onto the road. Food is dispersed and you all dig in, quickly realizing it's the worst fast food you've ever had in your life. Half of it's burnt, the other half is frozen. 

Only the fries are edible. 

Hours later, you're all beginning to crash. Spinner has been driving half the day and he's becoming delirious. Twice is too tired to switch back again. 

“We'll pull off somewhere and sleep in here, there's not enough money to spend it on hotels.” Shigaraki reminds the group. Once more, you chime in, happy to help. 

It takes nearly an hour to find a motel who's ‘no vacancy’ sign hasn't been lit up for the night. You snag the last four rooms which, assuming they all have two beds, should be the perfect amount of space to accommodate the group. 

The lobby is run down and a bit grungy. The carpet could use a good deep cleaning and there's a prevalent mustiness that you can't quite place. Still, you know it'll be the most comfortable any of you have been in a long time. 

You pay in cash. Key cards are issued and dispensed. Even in the haze of drowsiness, everyone's autopilot gets them through. 

People instinctively pair up. Toga and Magne. Twice and Spinner. You look around the lobby and everyone's already picked a roommate for the night. 

Well, almost everyone.

masterlist

[vivwritesfics]

rn i'm thinking about oscar dating a single mum

(actually, i saw THIS FIC by @httpsleclerc (which i will be reading later) and it got me thinking)

oscar, who's on a run in monaco. headphones in his ears, blocking out the noise of his surroundings. he stops his run to have something to drink. when he does, a little girl runs in front of him. "excuse me, mister," she says as she looked up at him.

oscar wipes his mouth as he looked down at her.

her toe points out like a ballerina. "do you like my shoes?"

oscar crouches in front of her, giving her his full attention. he looks at the sparkly pink shoes on her feet. "wow," he says as he looks down at them. "they're very nice, very pink."

"thank you!" she cries, almost exasperated. "my momma hates them."

oscar looks around, looking for any sign of the girls mother. "should we go find her?" he asks, sure that someone would be running around in a panic looking for her. "then we can tell your mum how cool they are."

the girls face lights up as the girls grabs oscar's hand. "she's over here," she says and pulls oscar along.

they come to a bench. on that bench is you. your eyes are shut, hidden behind sunglasses. you aren't snoring, holding a baby against your chest. an exhausted mum, oscar recognised immediately. "is that her?" he asks the little girl and she nods her head.

"momma has been really sleepy since cooper was born."

oscar stands up straight. you look exhausted, like you needed this sleep. he sits your little girl on the bench beside you. "let your momma sleep," he said to her and she nodded her head.

at that minute, you wake up. your clutch your son to your chest and stare at oscar, eyes wide. "who are you?" you gasp, grabbing hold of your daughter and backing away from him.

oscar holds his hands up. "your daughter came up to me," he explains. "i was just making sure she got back to you."

you look down at your daughter, at amelia, and she nods her head. "i asked him if he liked my shoes and he said yes, momma!" she calls as you put cooper in his pram.

you stare at oscar. he didn't look like a creep. no, he looks sweet, attractive even. you hold your hand out and amelia grabs a hold of you. "the shoes are a nightmare," you say as you begin walking away. "they get glitter everywhere."

with that you walk away, filled with hope to see the handsome young man again. oscar can't help but grin at you as you go, just as desperate to see you again.

second blurb

[ilovethanosdick]

Choi Su-bong/Thanos (Squid Game) x fem! reader HCS

IM OBSESSED WITH THIS MAN!!!!!

also first ever post?! it’s a little short, but hope ya enjoy!!

SFW:

• he ADORES physical touch

• touching u at every chance he gets, like even simple hand holding, leaning against u

• HE LOVES IT ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES FROM U!!

• casually grabs u by ur ass in public, or give u a lil slap. when u confront him about it, he acts like he dont know what are u talking about, then giggle

• using ur breast like fidget toy, when he’s stressed

• squeezing it, when he feels like it

• shoving his head between ur boobs, bro can stay like that for a good 10 minutes until he calms down

• if u ask him if he would still love u as a worm, he would tell u that he’s not a zoophile

• pet names!! baby, babe, princess are his favs!

• he’s not so good with commitment and stuff like that, would prefer an open relationship (one sided tho, he's so possesive of u)

• have huge jealousy issues when it comes to u

• a male species near u??? he goes into rage mode, getting aggressively touchy to claim u! show everyone that u are his!!

• would apologise to u with rap songs

“Y/N” he screamed outside your house. throwing rocks at the window to wake u up.

“what the fuck…” u muttered to yourself, as u walked over to the window to check what this idiot come up with this time.

as soon as he saw your face, he screamed again, his hands clutching onto his chest “SEÑORITA!!! I WANT TO APOLOGISE TO U!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!! U DO REALISE THAT ITS 3 AM RIGHT NOW???” u screamed back at him, slightly leaning forward through window.

“I LOVE U!!!!!” he get on his knees.

“ARE U HIGH?????” u asked, clearly pissed at his presence.

“HI!!!!!” he said as he waved his hands to u, enthusiastically with a goofy grin.

even after this response, u can’t tell if he’s high. that’s pretty much how he’s acting regardless if he’s on drugs or not.

he turn on boombox, a cliche beat hit your ears. he stands up and cleared his throat.

“Yo, I messed up, I admit it, I’m a clown,

Flirting like a fool when you weren’t around.

But I swear, it was harmless, just a slip of the tongue,

Now I’m here confessing where I went wrong.

I told her, "Hey, nice shoes," and that’s all I meant,

But now I’m in the doghouse, paying the rent.

Baby, you’re the star, the queen of my heart,

And that other conversation? A throwaway part.

She laughed at my joke, yeah, I felt kinda cool,

But now I see, I was the class clown fool.

I’d never trade you for some silly chat,

You’re the boss, the CEO, I’m just the doormat.

I’ll buy you flowers, write your name in the sky,

Sing off-key if it’ll dry your eyes.

I’ll even quit drugs if you need me to,

Just don’t leave me hangin’, I’m a mess without you.

So baby, I’m here, on my knees with this beat,

Admitting my crimes, can’t handle defeat.

Let’s laugh this off, put it in the past,

‘Cause you and me, girl, we’re built to last.”

he end up the song showing a small heart formed with his thumb and index finger.

u sighed “all right, come inside”

“YAYY!!!” he did a happy jump and clapped his feet in midair.

• tbh he’s so silly

• steals flowers from a random garden for u

• night visits, but uses a window instead of a door to enter ur place, literally like some kind of teenager

• even if u gave him the keys to ur apartment, he will use the window no matter what

it was dark outside, about 11 pm. u were coming back from work. damn how exhausted u felt. some arguments with clients, boss yelling at u. it was not ur best day for sure.

u checked ur phone. still no text from Thanos. why he was ghosting u? probably he don’t want to deal with ur complains about how bad ur day went.

u opened the apartment door. u don't give a damn about anything. you plan to go to bed right away, you don't have the strength to change your clothes, wash yourself or eat something.

you threw everything aside and went to the bedroom. when you turn on the light in the room, you see your boyfriend lying on his side, resting his head on his hand, rose in his teeth.

“U WANT TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK???” u flinched. u can’t get used to Thanos randomly spawning in ur house.

“and i missed u too, princess” he grinned, standing up and then theatrically hand over the rose to u.

“i brought ur fav burgers and lotta beer” he said, pointing out at ur kitchen.

“thanks” u smiled softly at him. u can’t help but melt inside at his behaviour. he’a an asshole, but what a cute asshole.

“no problem, babe” he leaned to u, giving u a tight hug. burying his face in the crook of ur neck.

• avoids deep emotional conversation

• would tell that he loves u, but he don’t put much weight into that

• he’s saying it casually like it’s common sense that he loves u

• painting each others nails!!!!

NSFW:

• pansexual king, but he wouldn’t label himself

• he don’t care about gender, he fucks who he consider as cute and that’s it!!

• when u ride him, he would comment something like: WROOM WROOM!! or YEEHAW!!!

• A TOTAL FREAK….

• piss kink (y’all can’t prove me wrong)

• HE LIKES IT DIRTY!!!!

• public sex

• like fingering u in a club or on a party, sometimes anal when he's high

• claiming u like that in front of other people?? IT TURNS HIM ON SO BADD

• never a sub, it would hurt his ego

• bro don’t know what gentle sex is

• always rough and aggressive

• smokes weed/cigarettes during sex, blowing smoke in your face

• talking about himself in third person "yeah, babe. the great Thanos will make u feel so good”

“u like that slut? u like Thanos’s dick that much??”

• he’s not into after care. usually he just rolls down on bed, doesn't even bother putting on clothes, hug u tightly and fall asleep like that

[lubdubology]

Til The Sun Turns Black

SYNOPSIS: Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader

WC: 13.1 k I apologize for nothing

WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni, mentions of drinking, angst, peril, some fluff, implied age gap (I guess?), mental trauma, miscommunication, Wade being Wade, dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cowgirl, missionary, cock warming, sex with feelings, unprotected p in v

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Soft Edges! I was not expecting that kind of response when I posted that story, so thank you <3. I had the idea for this story in my head since after I first saw the movie. I had no idea my one random runaway thought would turn into this. Also, this story would not have been finished if it weren't for @joelsgoldrush. She let me tease her for WEEKS with this and act as the ultimate sounding board. And she's overall just a delightful human being and I'm so glad I've found her.

The TVA agent sits staring at you, an odd and uncomfortable smile on his face. Like he isn’t quite sure he knows how to smile but had seen it once on TV.  You also don’t think he’s blinked in the past several minutes. It makes your eyes water just thinking about it. 

“I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes, well—“ the agent clears his throat and smoothes a hand down his chest. “You’re a threat to the multiverse.”

You squint your eyes at him and wonder if you’re lucid dreaming. Or trapped in some bizarre fever dream, but you can’t remember being sick. “The…multiverse? As in, more than one universe?”

He nods once. “Precisely.”

It’s your turn to stare as absolutely none of this is making sense. The morning had started off normal—wake up, shower, coffee at your favorite local corner store. You had barely finished your latte when you were apprehended and taken to this bland room by a man who must own insane stock in eyedrops. 

“You see, we’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he continues, oblivious of your growing confusion. “A handful of reincarnations, actually. And we believe we’ve finally pinned it down.”

His words sound insane. 

You were a low level mutant at best. You’ve been able to deeply sense and influence emotions in others since you were six—a standard empath if there ever was one. But reincarnation?

“Reincarnations? I’m sorry but—”

You feel it coming then, that all too familiar prickle of deja vu creeping up your spine and setting deep in your brain. The room begins to soften, the corners blurring and you feel disjointed, separate from the you sitting in the chair.

“Ah, see. We’ve pinned it down.”

The world tilts on its axis and your mind explodes into brilliance, the memories of hundreds of alternate versions of yourself firing down your synapses, leaving you as raw and exposed as a fresh wound. The pain is all consuming as you gasp for air and desperately try to quell the throbbing in your skull. 

Your hands grip the edge of the table, desperate to clutch at something solid to root you in reality as the kaleidoscope of memories swirl before your eyes, colliding and merging with one another. All the timelines converging down to a single point of existence within your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced this process, the return of your memories—the return of your consciousness—was always accompanied by a torturous sensory overload. 

“You see? You have extensive knowledge of the multiverse. And that kind of knowledge is coveted and dangerous.”

Your vision blurs as the memories keep slamming into you and you can’t help the primal scream that rips from your lungs, the pain in your throat a welcome distraction from the torture in your head. And then, amid the chaos, a single figure emerges in crisp focus, a face you’ve seen thousands of times.

“Logan.” His name comes out in a whisper, your voice trembling.

You know he’s not actually in front of you and instead a mirage, a figment of your overloaded neurons, but his presence calms you. 

“Yes, Logan. You two are quite fond of each other.” The agent stands and you squint up at him, wanting to be anywhere else as you regain your memories. “But never mind him. We can’t have you traipsing around with all that knowledge in your head.”

“No, no, no, please. Please just let me find him,” you beg, hating the desperation laced in your voice. 

The last thing you see before being sent out of existence is his creepy, uncanny smile. 

+++

The Void was bullshit. 

It had been a month since you were unceremoniously dumped here. 

Maybe. 

You weren’t really sure.  

Time had no meaning, each day seeming to stretch on for eons and simultaneously in the blink of an eye. And for every single one of those moments you’d been focused on one of two things: finding a way out and not dying. 

You quickly learned you had a better chance at survival if you stuck to the outskirts and avoided others. So you squirreled yourself away, sheltering in an abandoned cabin and hoping beyond hope you could figure out a way out of the desolate cesspool you found yourself in. 

Figure out a way back to him. 

Back home. 

+++

You don’t venture out unless you have to. 

The Void is full of phantom emotions left behind by its previous inhabitants and the cacophony overwhelms you. Rage, terror and despair so thickly envelope every surface you feel like you’re choking. It’s beginning to wear so harshly on your nerves you wonder if you might actually go insane here.

There was a tension growing in the Void. You’d heard whispers of unrest within the factions, Cassandra hungry for something to sink her teeth into. The undercurrent of rage has increased in the last couple of days and it’s enough to set your teeth on edge.

Stuffing a backpack with a few essentials in case you get stranded, you ready yourself for a supply run. The thought of leaving the perceived safety of your cabin has little appeal, but you’ve been putting it off for far too long. There was a small cache only a few miles from your cabin that other survivors kept stocked with extra provincials. You were hoping for something good, anything other can canned food or cereal. Or Spam. 

Tightening the straps on your backpack, you take one last glance around before stepping out into the forest. It’s eerily quiet, no birds or animals chattering to fill the silence, just the crunch of your shoes against fallen leaves. The Void has always felt oppressive to you, the air just a little too heavy, but there’s something lingering today that makes you feel on edge. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you pat your belt for the knife you’ve stashed there. 

Just in case. 

You’re half a mile away from the cache when you feel it—the inky slick of anger. It catches on the air and wafts towards you in waves. You slow your steps as you approach the road and come to a halt when the battered van comes into view. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

You’d recognize those claw marks anywhere. 

Your heart races as your eyes trace the deep, jagged cuts gouged into the metal and the large swathes of blood coating the ground and what you can see of the interior of the van. Instinctively your hand tightens around the hilt of your knife and you crouch down low behind a fallen log. You scan the area for any signs of movement and find none, but you know Logan is stealthier than you and wouldn’t give up his location willingly. 

The van door creaks open on its battered hinges and you inhale sharply as Logan stumbles out of the vehicle covered in dried blood and sweat and more knife wounds and bullet holes than you can count. 

The sight of him ignites a spark of longing that blooms in your chest and makes you physically ache. You can feel him. Your lips remember the hungered warmth of his mouth against yours, the way he’d nip at your bottom lip so you’d open up for him. Your skin remembers the calloused rasp of his hands and not just the greedy grabs when he needed to claim you, but the light brushes of his fingertips against your palm as he held your hand, just to remind himself that you were real. Your nose remembers his scent, woodsy and clean, like the earth after rain. 

Shaking your head, you push down the memories and peer back over the log. A slight breeze wafts through the air and you watch as he sniffs, his head turning in your direction. 

“Fuck,” you curse lowly, trying to crouch further out of eyesight. 

You hear the metallic snikt of his claws and your pulse quickens. There’s no point in hiding—he knows you’re there. You take a slow, steady breath before attempting to focus waves of calm in his direction, hoping to ease some of the anger wound around him. 

His eyes lock onto yours, sharp and predatory and he shakes his head, trying to keep you out. “Who the fuck’re you?” 

You draw back your power and raise your hands in surrender as you slowly rise to your feet. You toss out your name and silently hope for a spark of recognition. But he doesn’t know you. Not yet. 

“It’s not safe out here alone,” you start, moving out of your hiding place. You walk towards him, his eyes following your every move. “There’s a cache just up ahead—” 

The atmosphere shifts without warning, the anger you’d felt previously now melting into thick, cloying fear and desperation. You can taste the ozone and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as electricity sizzles across the sky. Glancing up, you see the dark, swirling mass of Alioth just beginning to form. 

You look at Logan, panic racing along your nerves. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, but I know you, Logan, and right now I need you to trust me.” 

Alioth’s presence is getting stronger and drawing closer, and every drop of tension and rage swirling within is beginning to weigh down on you, threatening to suffocate you. 

Logan’s eyes narrow, but there’s a slight twitch in his jaw and you know he’s considering your words. His claws retract, but his muscles remain tense, coiled and ready to attack. You grab for his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin and the hard muscle beneath your fingers. “We have to go. Now.”

For a moment, you think he might resist. But then with a low curse, he follows you, his stride matching yours as you lead him towards the cache. The trees blur by, the wind picking up and beginning to toss leaves and loose branches into the air. 

You’re operating on pure adrenaline and your heart pounds in your chest as you run, Alioth gaining speed and distance faster than either of you can move. Each gasp of air burns your lungs and your muscles ache with the effort of your sprint. 

Still a quarter of a mile away from the cache, you know you won’t be able to outrun Alioth. The storm has consumed the sky, the sun diminished to twilight, as the thunder and groans loom ever closer. You turn towards Logan and yell, “It’s too close, we’re not gonna make it!”

Logan’s eyes flash with anger as you stop and turn towards the oncoming destruction. He grabs for your wrist, pulling you almost nose to nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “We can’t stop!”

His proximity briefly disarms you, his fierce gaze igniting something deep within you, but you don’t have time to dwell on those emotions. You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I’m gonna try and calm it down.”

“What are you going to do, think happy thoughts at it?” he asks, his tone biting and sarcastic. 

You know every cell in his body is begging to fight, aching to release his claws and tear Alioth apart with his bare hands. But this isn’t something brute strength can subdue. 

“Just trust me,” you plead, your eyes searching his for some indication that he believes you. “Please.”

His stare is hard, but eventually his eyes soften and he loosens his grip on your wrist. “Fine.”

Tearing your gaze from him, you turn back towards the storm, now a full blown maelstrom of anger and destruction hellbent on consuming you both whole. You exhale slowly, pushing your own emotions of fear and panic as far down as you can. Instead, you turn inward and concentrate on every feeling of peace, calm and stillness you’ve ever experienced and project it outwards. Waves of soothing energy pour from you, an almost ghostly aura emanating from you as your power continues to grow. Alioth continues to surge towards you, the wind now flattening trees to the ground and lifting debris high into the air. 

The fight is excruciating, every cell in your body shaking with effort as you continue to project outwards, the sphere of your influence growing. When the two opposing masses collide, you’re almost knocked off your feet by the force. You’re vaguely aware of Logan beside you, claws unsheathing as he steps closer into your protective shield. 

For a brief moment, you feel the power of the storm ebb before it seems to press into you harder. Your knees begin to buckle and your stance slips. “I…I don’t know if I can hold it!” you gasp. 

Logan doesn’t run but instead moves closer, giving you one solitary nod. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, feel the doubt swirling behind them and yet he stays besides you, ready to fight. 

His silent encouragement is enough. 

You are not dying in the fucking Void. 

Gritting your teeth, you continue to push. A guttural scream rips from your throat as black spots dot your vision and blood drips from your nose. You dig down, channeling every last drop of your energy into a final wave, extending yourself deep within the core of the storm. 

The black of the storm begins to retreat and the wind begins to calm. As the first few beams of sunlight filter in through the treetops, your vision fades completely and the world goes black. 

The last thing you feel is a pair of strong arms wrapping around you before your mind goes blissfully blank and unconsciousness claims you. 

+++

You wake up in the cache. 

Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming in through the broken windows. The light is soft, definitely not the early morning glow from before you left the comfort of your cabin and you wonder how long you were out. With a groan, you try to sit up. Your body is stiff, every muscle in your body aching with the effort you took to banish Alioth. Wincing, you swing your legs out of the makeshift bed, the effort taking your breath away and you can feel the sickly creep of nausea climb up your throat. 

A low voice cuts through the haze. “Take it easy.”

Logan. 

You blink, trying to adjust your eyes to the light and find him sitting on the floor, one leg pulled up to his chest as a bottle of whiskey hangs between his fingers. He takes a long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“How long was I out?” you ask, your voice hoarse. 

Logan doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches over at a box beside him and then rolls a water bottle towards your feet before he finally mutters, “A day.” 

You accept the bottle with a nod of thanks. Taking a slow sip, you close your eyes as the liquid soothes your throat even as your body protests the movement. You’ve never used your powers to that degree before. Fuck, you didn’t even know you could. A perverse sense of pride licks at the edge of your exhaustion. 

Lowering the bottle, you breathe deeply in an attempt to settle the nausea rolling in the pit of your stomach. You glance at Logan and find him watching you, his eyes sharp, calculating. 

“You owe me some answers. You said you knew me.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. After hundreds of encounters with different Logans, it was never easy explaining to him what you were. For a long time, you didn’t even have a name for it. All you knew was that your consciousness, all your memories, everything that you are moves across different universes and inevitably crosses paths with Logan. It always felt like an invisible string, guiding your soul to his. 

“I’m a temporal nomad.”

Logan’s eyes narrow as he glares at you. “A temporal what?” His tone is laced with skepticism. 

You take another sip of water, giving yourself time to gather your thoughts and push away the throbbing at your temples. “A temporal nomad. I don’t die, not in the way you think, anyway.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you see his grip tighten on the bottle in his hand, his knuckles going white. “You tellin’ me you’re immortal?”

“No, not immortal,” you reply, exhaling slowly. “When I die, my consciousness moves. I reincarnate in a different universe. Eventually I regain everything—my experiences, my memories, my feelings. It’s why—” you pause and take a deep, steadying breath. “It’s why I always find you.”

Your words hit their mark and Logan’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher—shock, disbelief, maybe some anger. He sits up straighter, tipping the whiskey bottle to his lips without breaking eye contact. “You always find me?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. “We’ve met before?”

“I’ve lost count of how many time, actually,” you admit softly. “But in every reality, every universe, I find you. And we’re not just friends, Logan.”

Your words linger in the air between you and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. Logan stands suddenly, the now empty whiskey bottle clattering to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face, his jaw clenched as he paces within the small space. A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. “This smells like bullshit, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at his use of the word sweetheart. It’s one he’s always preferred for you, usually spoken with reverence, like a prayer falling from his lips. Except now it’s casual and cold, something with a sharp edge instead of softness. 

“I know how crazy it sounds. Believe me, Logan, it took me several lifetimes to wrap my mind around it.” You stand, your legs wobbly with the effort and you wince against the pull in your spent muscles. “But I know you.”

His expression hardens. “Yeah? Well, I don’t know you. And if you really knew me, you’d know to stay the fuck away from people like me.” Logan’s pacing grows more hurried, his hands clenching into fists. 

“I can’t,” you say softly, taking a tentative step closer towards him. “And I don’t want to. While I might not know the Logan in front of me or the nuances that make you different from the others, I know you.”

His nostrils flare and he lets out a low growl. “Stop.”

“I know the way you fight,” you continue, ignoring his warning. “I know the way you carry your pain as if no one else can possibly shoulder that weight. I know—”

“Stop!”

“—how you push people away to protect them, but that deep down you hope someone will push back. You may carry a lot of self loathing, Logan, but even you know you’re not heartless.” 

Logan’s fist slams into the wall behind him, the sound reverberating in the small room. He stands there, chest heaving, his knuckles bleeding from where they made contact with the rough wooden planks. You watch as the raw skin knits itself back together, his head hanging low. 

His jaw clenches as he wipes the blood from his hands, his breathing still ragged and posture rigid, itching for a fight. He glances over at you, his expression softer but still rough. 

“We’re done here,” he growls, but his voice soft, more broken than angry. 

Logan turns without another word and all you can do is watch him leave.

+++

You spend the rest of the morning dozing in bursts of fitful sleep, your confrontation with Logan taking its emotional toll. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and for the first time in your life, you feel as if you’re destined to wander this universe alone. 

But you can’t think about it. 

Not now. 

Ignoring the ache in your limbs, you pack up what supplies you can and ready yourself for the walk back to your cabin. The sun is a couple of hours from setting, the world bathed in golden light, when you set out. Walking down the steps, you pause at the distant crunch of boots on the gravel. You feel your pulse thrum in your chest as the sound gets closer and then he steps into view, his eyes locking onto yours. 

Logan. 

The sight of him standing there fills you with a rush of conflicting emotions. Relief, angry, anxiety and you’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak first. He looks the same—tired, disheveled, but steady and strong all the same. Neither of you moves, unspoken words hanging between you.

“I shouldn’t’ve left,” he says finally. 

For a moment you say nothing. Because it’s exactly what you want to hear from him. Except, because you’re beyond exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, you say, “No, you fucking shouldn’t have.” 

There’s definitely more bite in your tone than you intended, but the release of some of your pent up anger feels so good you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Logan’s eyes narrow as you move past him and keep walking. “Wait, so I come back here to apologize,” he begins, following close behind you, “and now you’re gonna just walk away?”

“You know, you never even thanked me for saving your ass,” you say, side stepping a downed log. “Just started demanding answers and then tucked tail and ran when you didn’t like what I had to say.”

He grabs your wrist and you stumble into his grasp, your breath hitching in your throat as you stand almost chest to chest. “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this!”

His anger bleeds into you, curling around your skin where his fingers press into your pulse point. You feel your nostrils flare and you’re itching for something to hit as you stare up at him, his jaw clenched. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you know you need to reign in your emotions or you’ll ignite the fuse between you. 

“You think I did?” you ask, pulling your arm from his grasp. Your voice is calmer, but just as sharp. “You think I want to relive the grief of mourning you over and over while also finding something new to love about you? You think I wanted to be banished to the Void all because my soul just can’t die when I do?”

Logan’s expression softens and he scrubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. I’ve had a shitty coupla days here. And you’re saying a lot of shit I don’t understand.”

He seems weary, then, and any remaining anger you harbor towards him dies in your veins. You take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly. “You don’t have to understand right now. Just—just trust me. Please?”

You hate how your voice breaks just a little.

Logan nods then, the barest tilt of his head, but it’s enough.

He continues to follow you through the woods back towards the cabin and for a while neither of you speak. It should feel awkward, especially now, but it doesn’t. You’re so used to his brand of stubbornness and reluctance to see what’s right in his face that this is the most at home you’ve felt since you got here. 

“So,” you start after a few minutes of silence, “how did you end up here?”

Logan huffs. “Some asshole in red spandex dragged me here and I said I need to help save his universe.”

“And can you?”

His step falters and you pause to look a him, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the trees. “I couldn’t save mine.” The weight of his words linger, heavy with a burden only he alone has been shouldering. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he brushes past you and keeps walking. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, catching up with him.

Logan growls. “No.”

“Alright, maybe later then,” you reply and he simply ignores you and keeps on walking. “Where’s this asshole friend of yours?”

“I left him tied up in the van.”

You had long passed the spot where you found Logan by the beat up van and the road was deserted. Based on the subtle smirk on his face, you figure Logan already knows that. Whatever his relationship is with the stranger, he seems somewhat happy to be rid of him and you don’t push him further. Although, you can’t help but wonder what happened to the van and whose hands it fell into. 

Logan’s gait slows as the cabin comes into view through the trees. He follows behind you as you clear the space, checking for any stragglers that may have come along while you were gone. Pushing open the door, you watch as he looks around, taking in the small space. 

“You’ve been living here?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but sure,” you comment, throwing your backpack on the table as you sit down. You can’t help the groan that escapes your lips as your muscles relax. “You can stay here if you want. I didn’t just let you follow me for your sparkling personality, you know.”

Logan actually laughs at that as he sits down on the small couch. His face lightens up, eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners, and for the first time since you found him, he seems unburdened. A blossom of hope grows in your chest and you grasp onto it, holding tight to the one bit of light you’ve had in this month of darkness. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You know he means for more than the offer to stay and you return his smile with one of your own. “You’re welcome.”

As the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you bring out some extra blankets and a couple of pillows and help Logan turn the couch into a makeshift bed. You turn to leave when you hear him ask, “You really find me in every universe?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds terrible.”

You give him a small smile as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom. “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I get to fall in love with you all over again.”

+++

You wake in the middle of the night to the sound of low, panicked growls coming from across the room.

You quietly slip from the bed and tiptoe towards the couch. Logan writhes beneath the sheets, pain etched across his face as he wrestles the demons in his sleeping mind. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself and focus every fiber of your power in his direction, hoping the waves of calm can break through whatever battle he’s fighting deep in the recesses of his mind.

Logan growls deep in his throat, the sound guttural and raw, his claws unsheathing and tearing at the sheets beneath him in agitation. A fine sheen of sweat beads along his brow and pieces of hair are plastered against his damp forehead.

“Logan,” you say softly, trying to break through the fog of his nightmare. “You’re safe, Logan.”

Your powers are waning, the stress of fighting off Alioth having left you depleted. You push down the ache, the tug in your brain demanding that you draw back, and instead kneel down in front of him, trailing your fingers across his palm and over the pulse point in his wrist. He jerks at your touch, his claws coming close to your skin, but the contact is enough and you feel his pulse slow beneath your fingertips.

You continue to speak in hushed tones, your voice barely above a whisper. “There you go, Logan. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Logan’s breathing is ragged, his eyes squeezed shut. You can feel the tension in his body, his muscles rigid with the need for release. You keep your fingers against his wrist, your touch steady and calming, as you bring up your other hand to smooth the lines along his brow.

“There you go,” you continue to murmur, “Focus on my voice. Focus on my calm.”

Gradually, his growls subside and his breathing begins to even out as the nightmare loses its grip over him. His muscles lose their tension and relax and the frantic movements of his limbs subsides. With one final deep breath, he stills, his claws retracting and he settles back into a peaceful sleep.

You sit and watch him for a minute, taking in all of his features and simply admiring him for the first time since your last life with him. This Logan is different—they all are in their own way—but this one a little more than the others. He seems wearier, more worn down, his usual scowl lines etched deep. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, too, you haven’t seen before and you wonder if this Logan actually ever rests. 

As you stand, you feel his fingers circle loosely around your wrist and give a small tug. You look down to where he’s touching you, his skin hot against yours, and you glance up to find him staring at you through half lidded eyes. 

“Stay.” It comes out in a low whisper and as you open your mouth to protest, he adds, “Please.”

You could never deny him in any universe.

The couch is barely wider than he is, yet he shifts to make a sliver of space for you to slot yourself into. It should be awkward, the way you press yourself between the couch and the solid warmth of his frame, but it’s not. You hitch your leg over his hip, forcing your legs to tangle, as you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and comforting beneath your ear and you find yourself quickly relaxing into his touch.

As you fall asleep, you feel his arm curl around you, tucking protectively against your ribs.

+++

When morning breaks, you’re alone. The warmth of his body is gone and you find yourself shivering. Pushing to sit, you wrap a blanket around yourself before standing up. 

The cabin is empty.

You try and ignore the sliver of panic that threatens to slip its way down your spine. 

Opening the front door, you pause when you find him sitting on the dilapidated porch, staring absently out at the trees. He glances up at you and watches as you sit down beside him. You hug the blanket closer around your shoulders and sit with him in silence.

You don’t mention last night.

“So,” you start, “what’s the plan?”

Logan raises his eyebrow. “You planning on stickin’ with me?”

“If you let me,” you reply with a smile.

You listen as Logan explains the events of the past couple of days, including Wade’s abduction of him from his own universe and how they both became to be bloodied and battered in the van. Your ears perk up when he mentions Paradox and returning to Wade’s universe. 

“You think he can actually get back?” you ask, willing yourself to not hold onto too much hope. 

Logan huffs. “Probably not.” 

“And yet you’re out here trying to think of a way to find him,” you say. “Why?”

A frown tugs at Logan’s mouth and he looks down at his hands. Eventually, he reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a crumpled Polaroid. He tilts it towards you and you look down at the group or smiling people. “He’s got something to go home to,” he says, thumbing the edge of the photo. “I got nothin’.”

There’s something soft in his gaze as he looks down at the photo, some lingering hope he’s too afraid to put words to. 

“I’m sure you have something, Logan,” you say quietly. 

His expression hardens then, jaw tightening, as he slips the photo back in his pocket. “Had. Past tense.” Logan stands then and looks down at you. “Get ready. We’re leaving in five.” 

+++

You get ready quickly, changing your clothes and splashing water on your face before making sure your pack was sufficiently stocked. You were hoping you wouldn’t be needing it for much longer, but you didn’t want to express that thought out loud. Despite Logan wishing to go back to find Wade, you knew he wasn’t convinced this would end well.

Logan’s already started down the path as you jog down the cabin steps, swinging your pack up onto your shoulders. Catching up with him, you hand him the Pop-Tart you pulled out earlier. “Breakfast? They’re unfrosted, because this is the Void, but it’s something.”

He looks down at you, a strange expression on his face, but he accepts your offer. “Thanks,” he says, taking a bite.

“So, where exactly were you headed when you both decided to maul each other silly?” you ask, keeping pace with him as you walk through the woods.

“Johnny had mentioned a resistance out in the Borderlands,” Logan answers, swallowing the bite of Pop-Tart. “Figured we might find some people who could help us get control over Cassandra.” 

You nod. “You’re not far from the Borderlands. Maybe four or so miles from he cache. I haven’t ventured out that far, but I’ve heard there’s a few outposts where others have hunkered down.”

“Then that’s where we go.”

You walk in comfortable silence, leaving Logan to his thoughts as you travel further away from safety and into the unknown. You stop at the cache briefly, pausing only snag a few water bottles before moving on. 

A couple of miles past the cache, Logan suddenly stops, sniffing the air. His posture goes rigid, on alert as he slowly moves forward, beckoning you to follow him. A few yards away, the beat up van comes into view, parked alongside a lodging that looks as if it was built into the very earth itself. 

Logan’s arm darts out, stopping you. “Stay close,” he commands quietly, stepping cautiously closer towards the structure.

You follow behind him, every sense on alert as you step inside. The place is quiet, but then you hear it—the soft rustle of snoring. And then Logan’s soft, “Ah, fuck me.”

Peering over his shoulder, you find a sleeping Wade spread eagle on the bed. Logan side steps the bed, ignoring the sleeping man, and begins rummaging through the place. Finding a bottle of whiskey, he groans in delight, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull. 

“Really Logan?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What else would you like me to be doing?” he asks, biting. 

“You came all this way to find him and now you’re gonna just drink?” you ask in disbelief. It gnaws at you, his indifference. You can feel little frissons of indignation licking at your skin and you have to tamp down your emotions before they bleed into him. 

Logan shrugs. “He’s asleep. I ain’t draggin’ him anywhere.”

You cross your arms, glaring at Logan in frustration. “I didn’t follow you here to watch you stand around and get drunk. Wake him up.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, his brow furrowing. You don’t relent, your stare pointed as he takes another long pull from the bottle. Muttering to himself, Logan makes his way over to the bed and gives it one swift, forceful kick. 

Wade jolts awake with a loud, exaggerated snort. He looks between you and Logan, his eyes finally settling on you. “Who’re you?” he asks, looking around as if expecting an answer. “When did the script get rewritten?”

You look at him quizzically, your eyebrow raised. “Who are you talking to?”

Wade huffs. “The audience,“ he says, gesturing towards the wall.

“Does he do this often?” you ask Logan in a whisper.

“Hasn’t stopped since he fucking dragged me here,” Logan replies. 

Your attention is diverted as Wade suddenly rolls from he bed, crossing the room and two large strides. He unsheathes one of his katanas, pressing himself against the wall and then he’s pinned on the ground as a woman pulls a blade of her own. After a moment, she lets Wade up and two more people follow into the room behind her. 

Logan eyes each one with suspicion as introductions are made and you can feel the tension growing within him as he continues to drink.

You jump as Gambit uses one of his playing cards to burst the bottle of whiskey in Logan’s hands. Logan ignores your pleading look and Wade’s admonishment as he grabs another bottle with a soft, “Boo boo boo.”

When Laura enters, you feel Logan’s interest pique, something heavy weighing on him. They both look towards one another, taking each other in and you don’t miss the recognition in Laura’s eyes.

“Do you know her?” you ask Logan, sliding closer to him.

Logan shakes his head. “No. But Wade’s Logan does.” He takes another long drink from the bottle, eyes still trained on her.

Wade continues to talk with the group, recapping their time in the Void and how they managed to escape Cassandra’s lair. Logan punctuates the conversation with vitriolic quips of his own, drinking more as Wade tries to get the group to form a team.

You try to send your power Logan’s way, trying to bleed into him some calm, but he shakes his shoulders and brushes you off. “Don’t fucking bother, sweetheart.”

“I can help you, Logan.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it.”

As Wade rallies the group into a cohesive unit, gaining their support in taking down Cassandra, Logan huffs a bitter laugh. “You’re all fucking dead.”

“Oh, my god, read the room,” Wade chides. 

+++

Logan storms off, one bottle of whiskey fisted in each hand. You want to follow after him, but Wade stops you. “Let him go, cupcake. Peanut’s in a fragile state and you’re too pretty to become mincemeat.”

You shoot a glare at him and brush his hand away from your shoulder. “No, he only seems to sink his claws into you,” you bite back, but the anger leeches from your voice. 

“Spicy,” Wade comments, “I like you. The script editor worked overtime on you, I can tell.”

“Yeah, well the jury’s still out over here,” you say, but you can’t help the twitch of a smile tugging at your lips. 

You glance over at the door and feel Wade sidle up beside you. “Seriously, cupcake. Chasing after him is like trying to catch a raccoon with rabies. Might be fun, but it’s not worth the bite.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, peering over at him, “And how long have you known him?”

Wade pretends to look down at his wrist and taps a non-existent watch. “Four days, six hours and thirty-two minutes,” he says with a smirk, “but I don’t really like to put a timestamp on friendship."

With a groan, you plop down on the bed and rub at your temples. “Is everything a joke with you?”

“Mostly,” he chirps with a grin. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches you. “But I have been known to press pause occasionally.” Wade regards you for a moment, a slight tilt to his head. “Honey badger does it for you, huh?”

Sighing, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I have followed Logan through millennia, Wade. I can’t remember a time anymore where I haven’t loved him.”

“His mutant dick that good, huh?”

You half laugh, half snort and shoot him a pointed look. “Not everything is about sex, Wade.”

“Agree to disagree,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve all got emotional baggage, mine is definitely over the free to fly limit, but that guy? Literal mountains. Centuries worth, even.”

“Exactly,” you say, sitting up. “I’ve helped him carry more than you can imagine. Logan may push people away, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need someone to stay.”

Wade cocks his head, considering your words and his expression softens. “You know running after him isn’t going to fix him.”

“I’m not trying to fix him,” you reply. “He just needs to know someone is there for him.” 

“Well, it’s your funeral, cupcake,” he says with a sigh. “I promise I’ll give a really moving eulogy. But, I do think if anyone is gonna convince tall, dark and brooding out there to join us, it’s you.”

You give him a soft smile as you stand. “Thanks, Wade.”

“And just so you know,” he calls after you, “I’m open and willing to being your mutant dick rebound.”

You roll your eyes and walk out the door.

+++

You step outside and see Logan sitting by himself in front of a fire not too far from the lodging. Walking quietly, you stop when you see Laura approach him and sit along side him. You’re close enough that you can hear their words—hear Logan tell her about the suit, about how he found the X-Men, his friends, dead. 

The anger, the loathing, this Logan carries comes into focus and you can’t help but wonder how long he’s lived with this weight upon his shoulders. Suffering alone with only the bottom of a bottle to quiet the thoughts that scream in his mind.

As Laura eventually leaves, she catches your eye and gives you a small nod.

You feel a strange kinship with her. She too has memories of a Logan who no longer exists and who is radically different from the one she has now. You wonder what she’s thinking and have half a mind to follow after her when you hear Logan call out, “I know you’re there.”

You turn back towards where he remains sitting in front of the fire, the whiskey bottle now more than half gone. Closing the gap between you, you sit down alongside him and watch as he continues to stare down into the fading fire.

“How much did you hear?” he asks, taking a large swig from the bottle. 

“Enough,” you answer simply.

Logan grunts and takes a long pull from the bottle, his lips glistening as his swallows get sloppy. “Well, now you know. I’m the worst Logan,” he almost spits, his tone dark and bitter. “You drew the short straw with me, sweetheart.”

“You know I don’t think that,” you say softly. 

Logan doesn’t respond and instead finishes the rest of the whiskey, tossing the bottle somewhere behind him. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks over at you. “You actually gonna join them tomorrow?”

“Are you?”

“It’s a fucking suicide mission,” he answers. “You want to walk up to your death, be my guest.”

“If you’re so convinced this is a suicide mission, why don’t you want to go?” you counter, his ire beginning to bleed into the space between you and creep uncomfortably along your skin. “You afraid you might come face to face with actual death and realize that’s not really what you want?” 

Logan’s gaze flicks up to your face, his eyes dark, dangerous. “You’re fucking pushin’ it.”

“Good! Someone fucking should be!” you exclaim, standing from the fallen log. Maybe Wade was right—maybe this was futile. In every universe Logan could be a stubborn ass, but this one was particularly obstinate. “Do you really believe you’re so unredeemable, Logan? That you’re just a vile mutant who doesn’t deserve sympathy after his friends were brutally murdered?”

You can feel his rage boiling just under the surface of the thin veneer of calm. His eyes pierce into you, pinning you in place as he stands to his full height, his fists clenched tightly. 

“You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart,” he growls. 

Anger simmers in your veins, threatening to burn you from the inside out. “Oh fuck you, Logan.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me sinking into your cunt while you picture whatever version of me you think I am.” His voice is a low rumble, adding to the tension threatening to suffocate you. 

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and it isn’t desire that courses through you, but rage. Your skin prickles and his vitriol ignites something deep within you, something hotter and brighter than you’ve ever felt before. 

“After all this time and everything I’ve told you, you honestly believe that’s all I want from you? You’re a fucking pathetic asshole,” you snap, your voice sharp and laced with venom. 

Logan’s expression darkens, the smirk slipping from his face as his jaw clenches. “You got some balls sayin’ that shit to me,” he spits. 

A small part of you is terrified of him, afraid that he might actually snap. Might actually unsheathe his claws and send you onto your next life without ever having truly lived this one. But you know him, you know him. His pain and rage isn’t towards you, but himself. 

You risk a step closer to him, narrowing the space between you and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, mingling with your own fury. “Yeah, well at least one of us has a pair.”

Logan doesn’t have time to react before you channel your powers towards him, unleashing an explosive burst of energy that sends him staggering back. And then you smother him, smother him in thousands of years of memories, thousands of years of every single feeling you had ever felt for him in every universe you’ve known him. 

The weight of your emotional onslaught brings him to his knees, but you keep pushing, switching from your feelings for him to his feelings for you. All the affection, all the love, all the comfort the two of you shared in every version of your coupling across space and time floods his mind. 

You watch as his expression melts from anger into one of overwhelming vulnerability and pain. His hands, still clenched into fists, tremble beneath the weight of your power surging through him. He looks up at you then, his eyes pleading and your resolve breaks. Tears burn in your eyes and trail down your cheeks, wetting your lips as a scream rips from your lungs.  

Your hold on Logan dissipates as you reign your emotions back under control. You stagger on your feet as your power diminishes, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and broken sobs. You can’t look at him, not yet. If you do, you might actually break. So you do something that you never thought you would do—you leave.

+++

Night in the Void is cool, almost bordering on uncomfortable like everything else in this godforsaken place, but for once it doesn’t bother you. You gaze up at the sky, the haze of distant stars and planets blurring together the more you try and focus on just one. 

You’ve always loved looking at the stars. There was a comfort in knowing you could look up at the sky and see the same constellations in every universe, that there was always one constant among all the variables. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting before you hear the crunch of his boots on the earth, dried leaves and twigs snapping under his heel. Logan joins you on the ground, sitting with a heavy sigh. The maelstrom of emotions swirling within him bleeds into the space between you and you can feel it, thick and heavy and suffocating. 

You risk a glance at him and he looks…defeated. His eyes are red-rimmed and raw and you see something in those hazel eyes you rarely see—fear. Not fear at you, although your guilt would rather have you believe that, but fear of himself, fear of feeling what you’ve shown him. Logan’s breath is slow, controlled, but you can hear the slight tremor in it. 

“I promised myself I would never use my powers on you” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know what it feels like to experience that onslaught. It feels like drowning.” Your voice cracks and you fight to keep the guilt burning in your chest from consuming you whole. “And that was just a fraction of what we’ve felt across lifetimes, Logan.” 

Logan stays silent but gazes at your face, eyes flicking across your features, drinking you in. The scrutiny makes you shiver. Before you isn’t The Wolverine, the X-Man people in his universe loathe, but a man left raw and vulnerable. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says slowly, his voice rough as the words are pulled from him. “You shouldn’t have shown me that.”

You flinch, the weight of his words are a punch to your gut. “I know,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. “I know and I’m sorry, I—”

Logan cuts you off with a shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I already knew, sweetheart,”he murmurs, his voice low. “You feel like—you feel like home.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest and for a moment you can’t breathe. The words hang between you, heavy and raw, the sound of them something you’ve been craving to hear. 

“I am your home,” you reply softly. 

Logan shifts beside you, closing the space between you as he slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. His mouth crashes to yours, his kiss urgent, rough and desperate. 

You reach for him, gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, the Void slipping away. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the rough scrape of his beard against your skin, the way his other hand tugs at your waist in an attempt to pull you closer. 

It’s messy and intense and you don’t want it to end. Logan kisses you like a man starved, like you’re his last breath of air. 

A whimper falls from your lips as he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You’re both breathless, his nose softly nudging yours. 

“Please come with us tomorrow,” you whisper against his skin. “Let me take you home.”

He nods once and that’s all you need. 

+++

The morning comes quicker than anyone would like. 

Nervous energy bleeds through the group, everyone knowing they’re on the precipice of life or death, that this may be the last day they ever inhale air into their lungs or feel the warmth of the sun on their skin.

Logan’s quiet, already tucking into Gambit’s liquor, as you sit down beside him. He looks down at you briefly, taking a long long pull before offering you the bottle. You take it from him and take a swig of your own, the amber liquid burning a path down your throat. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, handing him back the bottle.

He stares down at his feet, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “I honestly don’t even fuckin’ know.”

You reach for his hand and give him a comforting squeeze. He stares down at you for a moment and then drags his gaze up to your face. “Whatever happens Logan, I’ll be right there with you.”

Final preparations complete, everyone piles into the van, you tucking alongside Logan in the hatchback. The ride is mostly quiet, punctuated only with the few occasional quips by Wade just to ease the tension. You brace yourself, gripping Logan’s calf as Blade sends a rocket launcher through Cassandra’s front gate and Elektra floors it through the explosion. 

The others leave the van first, forming a line of defense. You look up at Logan and lean forward to press the faintest of kisses against his lips. His fingers curl around your neck and pull you closer, deepening it just enough to taste your mouth. 

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling back. “Stay by me.”

You swallow hard, loathe to let him go, wanting to stay in the perceived safety of the van, but you simply nod and follow him to join the others.

Fighting erupts all around you and you stick as close to Logan’s back as you can. It’s a symphony of chaos—rage, fear and determination all swirling heavily in the air. You feel your power thrum underneath your fingertips as you channel those emotions back towards whoever Logan is fighting, hoping to disarm them—even if temporarily—with their own vitriol in an attempt to give him an advantage. 

The air burns in your lungs as you move through the fight, your mind spinning as you gain distance towards Cassandra’s lair. You can see the others move around you—Elektra and Blade slicing down enemies with their blades; Gambit disarming others with his explosively charged playing cards; Laura fighting in a style all her own, yet so much like Logan’s; and Wade cutting down others like he’s having fun.

A clear path opens up to the ramp leading up to Cassandra and the others swarm behind you, allowing yourself, Wade and Logan to break free from the melee. Logan looks back at you just long enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. You try and remain stoic, even though your mind is racing with all he the ways this could go wrong, and give him a small nod of encouragement. 

You stop short in front of Cassandra as she sits sipping tea, seemingly disinterested in the battle happening just outside her stronghold. “You two escaping I could live with, but coming back willingly…” she trails off, “Boys are so silly.” Her eyes dart towards you. “And you brought a friend!”

“I just need to get home,” Wade says, his tone serious. 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Cassandra flicks Wade aside effortlessly and Logan’s instantly on alert, claws extended at his side. You attempt to direct your powers at her, trying to defuse the anger simmering below her surface. She rolls her neck and glances at you, intrigue in her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you interesting,” she says, effortlessly flicking your powers aside. “I wonder what treats you have hiding in that mind of yours.”

Cassandra steps closer to you, her calculating stare flicking over your face. She lifts one hand up to you and from behind her, Logan growls and moves to attack. You watch, powerless, as she pins Logan to the ground with his own claws. 

She tsks and looks down at him, “That’s enough out of you.”

And then, she’s in your mind, every nerve ending in your body on fire, ready to consume you whole. 

You’re standing in a library, Cassandra at your side. Shelves extend as far as the eye can see, fading into an infinite distance. You walk aimlessly along the shelves, pausing at the entrance of a room simply titled “Logan”. 

“Oh, now this is something,” you hear Cassandra say from beside you. “This is quite the collection you have.”

Your fingers reach out and touch the spines, the briefest flickers of memories emanating from their covers. “I’ve known him for so long,” you murmur. “Been with him through so much.”

You pause in front of one book, the urge to open it nearly overwhelming. Pulling it from the shelf, the pages flutter open and you gasp, the memories of that life flooding your brain. 

You and Logan were married in this life. He worked a simple job, construction. There were no X-men, no missions, no danger. He kept his mutation a secret, showing only you when the memories got too rough, too unmanageable. You were his anchor. You had two kids—girls. And oh, how he loved them. Both of them wrapped effortlessly around his heart from before they were even born.

Tears spring to your eyes as the warmth of those memories flood through you. “I loved that life,” you whisper, putting the book back on the shelf.

“And who wouldn’t?” Cassandra agrees, placing her hand on your shoulder. “So effortless his love for you. So different from now.”

You glance over at her, confusion drawn on your face. False empathy tugs at Cassandra’s sympathetic smile. “Are you even sure he cares for you now? This Logan is so broken, more broken and unloveable than all these other Logans, hm?”

Shaking your head, you try to resist her efforts to batter you, to convince you your soul’s purpose is not worth it. Not worth him. “That’s not true. They’re all worthy. All capable and deserving of love,” you say, your fingers trailing along another spine. “Even this one. Especially this one.”

Cassandra’s face contorts then and…

She’s wrenched from your mind and you fall to your knees, blinking up as you see Wade holding Cassandra from behind, one hand holding Jaggernaut’s helmet to her head. 

Your mind still spins as Logan and Wade confront her, their conversation a jumble in your mind. But you don’t miss her saying either they kill her, or she kills them. Finding the strength to stand, you rise and place your hand on Wade’s arm.

“If I stay,” you start, focusing only on Cassandra and ignoring the press of Logan’s gaze into your skin, “Will you let them go?”

Logan reaches for you and you pull your gaze from Cassandra long enough to press your palm against this chest. You meet his eyes, silently pleading with him to let you continue. 

“Will you?” you repeat, unable to keep the pleading out of your tone.

Cassandra laughs bitterly. “You love him that much? To sacrifice yourself to save him? That Logan, out of all of them?”

You nod, feeling the tears burn in your eyes. “I love him that much,” you reply softly.

Logan grabs your hand then, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t,” he chokes out, voice thick with unspoken emotion, “Don’t do this.”

You smile softly as you reach up and cup his cheek, his beard rough against your palm. You don’t miss the way he briefly nuzzles into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. “I love you, Logan. In all my lives, in this one and in the next one, too.” The first tear slips down your cheek as you look up at him. “I promise I’ll find you again, Logan. I always do.”

You press a kiss to his mouth, soft and gentle. It lingers for a moment, a desperate, bittersweet exchange as Logan tries to memorize the feel of you. His hands grip your waist, clutching almost hard enough to bruise, but you relish the pain. 

Wade stands beside you both, uncharacteristically silent, his hands still holding Cassandra in place. His usual banter is gone, the weight of the moment not lost on him. “This is the worst fucking idea anyone has ever had,” he mutters, but his tone is soft. “And I’ve had some pretty terrible ideas.”

Cassandra regards you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “If I let them go, you’ll stay here with me in the Void. Be my ally.”

You nod, “Yes.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, calculating, weighing her options. Finally she sighs, “Fine. But you know…no one will remember this little sacrifice of yours. The next Logan won’t even know you.”

Logan growls and you squeeze his hand in gentle reassurance. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice finally breaking. “I’ll remember enough for the both of us.”

You step away from Logan, your heart shattering with every step. Wade lets go of Cassandra and you feel the weight of your decision settle heavily against your shoulders. 

Cassandra pulls something from her pocket, slipping it onto her fingers. Before you, a portal opens up, just outside the boundaries of the room. Outside, the raging storm that is Alioth grows near and in that moment, you realize Cassandra was playing a game of her own.

“I figure,” she says, straightening the lapels of her jacket, “that they have approximately four seconds before they’re through.”

Your eyes flick to Logan and you memorize every detail, every emotion written across his face. With one final nod, he tears his gaze from you and he runs towards the portal, Wade alongside him.

And then, darkness consumes all.

+++

You’re unsure how long you’ve been out. The last thing you remember was Alioth screaming towards you, giving you barely enough time to cocoon yourself from his rage.

Cassandra is gone.

Wade is gone.

And Logan—Logan is gone.

You open your eyes and find Remy standing above you. He offers you his hand and helps you to stand. “C’mon, chère,” he says, nodding towards the open portal behind him, “Let’s go home.”

You’re not sure where home is any more, not without Logan, but you don’t have the strength to argue. From the moment you wound up here in the Void, you’ve been looking for a way out. Now that you have one, you know you need to take it. 

Accepting Remy’s hand, you join him through the portal.

You stumble into a familiar room and are greeted warmly by a smiling TVA agent. She’s unlike the first TVA agent you met, her presence comforting as she says your name. “We heard you’ve had quite the adventure.” She looks over towards Remy. “Mr. LeBeau, if you’ll follow this agent here.”

Remy leaves with he other agent, turning towards you with a wink. “Enjoy your man for me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters in your chest and you look towards the agent, trying to suppress the hope you feel in your chest. She smiles and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. From her pocket she pulls out a small device, pressing a few buttons on the pad. Before you a different portal opens and she gestures towards it.

“Welcome home.”

+++

You stand in front of the apartment door and hesitate before knocking. Your nerves flutter uncomfortably in your belly even though it’s been less than two days since you last saw Logan in the Void. But you’re out now—you both are—and the fear nags at you that maybe this isn’t what he wants. That you aren’t what he wants. 

You stuff that thought down with a shake of your head. Raising your hand, you rap against the door three times and let out a shaky breath. When he opens the door, you feel as if the air has left your lungs and you forget to breathe. Your heart aches at the sight of him. 

Logan stops short, his face falling into one of pure disbelief and all he can do is stare at you.

“Is that my stripper?” you hear Wade call from farther into the apartment. Logan continues to stare at you as Wade pops up behind him, his face lighting up in surprise. “Oh, hey cupcake! Didn’t expect to—“

“Get out,” Logan growls, turning his head slightly in Wade’s direction, his eyes never leaving yours. 

From over Logan’s shoulder, Wade wiggles his eyebrows. “Ah, looking for some afternoon delight?” he coos, slinging his arm over Logan’s shoulder and patting his chest. “This guy has been jerkin’ it constan—“

You hear the sknit of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe into Wade’s thighs. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!” Wade curses. “You’re supposed to be penetrating her, not me!”

“Get. Out,” Logan repeats, retracting his claws. 

“Fine.” Wade pushes past Logan’s frame, limping slightly as his wounds heal themselves. “You’re lucky Blind Al’s already out playing Bingo. Or selling herself for blow. I don’t actually know her schedule,” he comments as he walks down the hallway. “Glad you’re home, cupcake.”

Logan barely waits until Wade is out of sight before tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling you towards him. Your gasp dies on your lips as he drags you inside, shutting the door with his foot and pushing you up against the rough wood. Then his mouth is on yours and it’s warm and wet and wonderful. 

His hands cup your face, fingers moving to tangle in your hair and you feel him everywhere. You whine as he nips lightly at your chin before trailing his lips back up your jaw, licking into your mouth as he kisses you deep. 

Your fingers scramble for purchase, fisting themselves into the fabric of his button-down flannel. 

There’s a desperation and urgency bleeding from him, as if he can’t drink you in fast enough, or hard enough, or long enough to satiate the longing that’s within him. And you’re feeling it too, an ache growing deeper in your belly, a need to be consumed by him fully and you whine into his mouth because he’s not nearly close enough to you.

A thigh slips between your legs as he kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, a moan falling from your lips as you greedily seek friction. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Logan husks against your shoulder, pulling your hips harder against his clothed thigh. 

Your hands cup the sides of his face, your fingers scratching lightly against his beard. You force him to look at you, his pupils blown wide. “I always come to you,” you say softly. “I always come home.”

He kisses you softly then, his mouth slow over yours and he drops his thigh from between your leg. You whine at the loss and he pulls back. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you further into he apartment. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a door.”

You follow him to the bedroom, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and you can feel the prickle of anticipation along your spine as he turns back to look at you. His eyes never leave yours as he shrugs off the flannel and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Your eyes trace the lines of his chest, the strong definition of his muscles, following the line of hair that leads to the top of his jeans. As you bite your lip, you hear his chuckle, “My eyes are up here.”

“Mmm, yeah they are,” you start, tugging your shirt off and shimmying your pants over your hips, “but the view down there is nice, too.”

Logan reaches for you, his large hands skimming over your hips, over the flesh of your ass and under your thighs, lifting you up and forcing your to wrap your legs around his waist. With an easy flick of his fingers, he’s unclasped your bra and you toss it aside with the rest of your clothes. 

Kneeling on the bed, he lays you down, kissing his way down your stomach, his nose nuzzling along the top of your panties. “Do you have any fucking idea how sweet you smell?” His mouth is hot against your skin and he laughs as you tilt your hips up towards him. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue? Lap at you until you’re seeing stars?”

Molten desire shoots down your spine and you can feel the slick between your thighs. God, the mouth on him was going to be the death of you. 

You prop yourself up onto your elbows and look down at him. “Just fucking touch me already,” you whine, and you hate how desperate you sound. “Haven’t we waited long enough?”

He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his nose along the center of your clothed cunt. You inhale sharply as he kisses over your clit before trailing his fingers along your hip bones and pulling the fabric down. His warm hands palm along your thighs and he opens you up, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. And then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a hot stripe through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as his mouth continues to lap at you, pleasure tingling low in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Logan hums. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart.” His tongue dips down, collecting the arousal at your entrance. “I could die happy between these thighs.”

You trail your hands down over your chest, briefly palming each breast before you continue down and sink your fingers into Logan’s hair. His groan rumbles through you and you don’t miss the way his hips start to rut against the mattress, seeking friction. 

His mouth and tongue continue to move over you, long, slow licks punctuated by gentle sucks and flicks over your clit and you can’t stop the grind of your hips against his face. You feel his smirk against you as one thick finger finally sinks inside your walls, nudging that spot deep inside that makes you squirm.

Another finger slips inside you and a low whine spills from your lips. 

“You’re beautiful like this, you know that,” he says, voice rough, thumb replacing his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue pumping. “All blissed out and needy and desperate to come on my fingers.”

His words zip through you as he fuck you with his hand and you bite your lip. “C’mon,” he purrs, “let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

Soft whimpers spill from your throat as he continues to work you, that pull in your lower belly growing stronger and stronger. His hand never stilling, he kisses his way up your body, pulling a nipple into his mouth and then you’re coming, cunt clenching around his fingers. 

Logan licks into your mouth to steal your cries as he continues to work you through your orgasm. Your thighs clamp around his forearm, the pleasure overwhelming. 

He finally stills, pulling his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. You watch through half lidded eyes as he licks his fingers clean of your slick and you feel that flame reignite in your belly. 

“Take your pants off,” you demand, breathless, pushing at his chest. 

Logan laughs, but allows you to push him onto his back. “You always so bossy after you come?”

You fumble at his belt, undoing his buckle and unzipping his jeans before shoving them down his hips. “Make me do it again and find out,” you taunt as his cock springs free.

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and you sit back on your heels and admire him for a moment. Your eyes trail from his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest and follow that line of hair down his stomach to between his thighs, where his cock stands, thick and ready. 

“I will never get tired of looking at you,” you sigh, raking your nails down his thighs, deliberately not touching him where you know he wants it the most. “You’re so beautiful, Logan.”

Whatever response he has, dies in his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, giving him one long, firm stroke. He’s hot and heavy and you’re aching to feel him inside you. But not yet. Leaning down, your eyes meet his and you trace your tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the salt on his skin.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Logan curses, unable to stop the thrust of his hips, chasing your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit and collecting the precum there before taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. Logan hisses through his teeth, fingers winding their way into your hair to help guide your movements. 

“You’re so warm and wet, sweetheart,” he groans. “But I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

You give him one last stroke as you release him from your mouth and climb up to sit on his thighs. Logan pulls you forward by your hips and you gasp as your cunt slides across his cock. 

“Line me up,” he instructs and you obey without hesitation. 

Gripping him in your hand, you guide him to your entrance, notching him inside before slowly sinking down atop him. A sob chokes in your throat at the thick feel of him inside you, stretching you, making you feel complete. Your entire existence boils down to where he’s joined with you and you relish the burn.

His hands are everywhere as you start to move, caressing your thighs, your hips, up to your breasts and back down, tracing a map on your skin only his fingers can read. Praise falls from his lips in an almost nonstop litany, telling you how wet you are, how tight, how warm, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to know how you make me feel?” you ask, breathless. You look down at him through half lidded eyes and find him just as flushed and wanton as you. “How you’ve always made me feel?”

You continue to rock back and forth on his cock, slow, deliberate movements that leave you wanting, needing more. Logan shifts his hips and finds the leverage to fuck up into you, the deep drag of his cock against your walls making you throw your head back and moan. 

“Fuck,” he growls, his fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your hips, pulling you somehow impossibly closer. “Show me, sweetheart.” 

You brace your hands against his chest, raking your fingers through the damp hair there, feeling his heart beat beneath your palms. Leaning down, you capture his mouth with yours, the kiss sloppy as he continues to thrust up into you. You move your hands up his neck, your fingers collecting the sweat along his jaw and then, “Feel, Logan.”

It starts slow, an almost faint heat spreading from your fingertips as they ghost over his skin, your power beginning to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Logan gasps and his rhythm falters as the first wave of emotion hits him. You slow, too, your hips barely moving as you run your fingers down from his jaw, over the column of his throat and back to his chest. 

Your palms rest against his ribs as you continue to pour into him all the love and passion he’s ever shown you over centuries. Logan stares up at you in reverence, his face soft as he runs his hands up your sides, over your breasts. He tugs you down towards him, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Do you feel, Logan,” you ask, your breath hot against his lips. “Do you feel how much you love you have in you?”

He draws your bottom lip into his mouth, biting softly once, before capturing your mouth fully, kissing you deep. You hum as his tongue swipes against yours and his fingers tangle in your hair. 

A gasp pulls from your throat as Logan wraps his arms around you and flips your position, forcing your legs around his waist as he begins to thrust into you again in earnest. You feel him deep in this position, each thrust of his cock against your walls hitting that perfect spot inside of you. 

“It’s too much,” he groans into your skin. “Never…never felt like this.”

You rake your nails along his back, relishing in the growl that falls from this throat. “It always feels like this,” you gasp, drawing your power back. 

His arms slide under your shoulders, anchoring you in place as his hips continue to thrust into you. It’s lewd almost, the slapping of skin against skin and the wet noises from where you’re joined. His breath is hot and damp against your skin where his mouth hovers over the pulse point in your neck. 

Your fingers snake into the short strands of hair at the back of his neck and your other hand slips in between your bodies, reaching for your clit. 

“That’s it,” he moans, “use those fingers to get yourself off on my cock.”

You can feel where he’s sliding thickly into your cunt, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock damp with your arousal, and you begin to rub in time with his thrusts. Pleasure zips along your spine, every cell in your body afire at his touch. You feel that telltale tug low in your belly and you know you’re not going to last much longer. 

He slides his hands down from your shoulders, following the curve of your spine, forcing you to arch your back. Taking the opportunity before him, he swirls his tongue over one nipple, then the other as he palms the flesh of your hips in his hands, angling your hips further up into his. A keening whine falls from your lips as he somehow thrusts deeper into you, making your legs shake. 

Logan nudges your hand away from your clit, replacing your fingers with his own as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes are focused on the sight of his cock thrusting into you and the slick smeared across your thighs. 

“Logan,” you gasp, “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up to your face, “I got you. Takin’ me so well, so tight. Gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how fucking good you are.”

His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you as you spasm down on his cock, his name falling from your lips. He fucks you through your orgasm, each thrust of his hips sending aftershocks of pleasure along your limbs as he chases his own release. Logan’s thrusts grow erratic and you reach for him, grasping at his forearms, pulling him down to you. 

“Come for me, Logan,” you murmur in his ear. “I wanna feel you come.”

With one final thrust, he comes with a groan, forehead pressed against yours as he spills himself deep within you. You can feel cock spasm as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm, using your body to wring out the last of his pleasure. You hold him close, pressing open mouthed kisses to his jaw as he finally stills within you. 

Careful not to crush you, Logan pulls you to him as he rolls onto his side. He doesn’t pull out, tugging your leg over his hip to keep you close and full. 

You smile up at him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. He sighs at your touch, a content sound that tugs at your heart. 

“You really love me in every universe?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against yours. 

“Yes.”

“Even this one?”

“Especially this one.” 

You don’t know what the rest of this life holds, but you do know one thing—wherever he goes, you’ll be right there with him. 

[rafeandonlyrafe]

only you, always

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex

you would never admit it out loud to anyone, but a twisted part of you likes when rafe cheats on you. its a dark truth, one you wrestle with every time it happens.

it's always when he's blackout drunk or high at a party, usually a combination of both. it's often when you're fighting or on a “break”. like last week, when your blowout argument ended with rafe slamming the door behind him and stomping out into the night. you were quick to hear that he made out with some girl at kelce's party. the pain lasted until the next day when he showed up back home, disheveled and tear-streaked, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“i fucked up.” he croaked. 

you just stared at him until he fell to his knees, blue eyes rimmed with red as he pressed his forehead against your stomach. “please don’t leave me. i can’t lose you.”

the cheating hurts you every time, but rafe coming back crawling and crying, begging your forgiveness and worshiping you for the next few weeks always makes up for it.

“hi beautiful.” rafe kisses at your cheeks, a week having passed from your fight and his infidelity, the tension replaced with the warmth of his lips against your skin. 

“hey.” you smile, running your fingers over his face, stubble gracing his cheeks as he hasn't shaved for the last couple days, preferring to spend every waking moment with you instead as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i love you so much.” rafe leans in and kisses the tip of your nose this time, then your forehead, before dropping down to your lips.

“i don't deserve you.” rafe whispers before kissing you again.

“you probably don't.” you giggle, rolling on the bed so you're fully on top, pinning him beneath you. 

“i said i was sorry.” rafe pouts.

“and i forgave you.” you shake your head, your voice gentle but firm, realizing you probably shouldn't make fun of the situation, but humor feels safer than vulnerability.

“it won't happen again.” rafe says. it always does, yet he always promises it won't. maybe as you both grow older and more mature, both stop drinking and fighting so much, it will really be over, breaking the cycle. at least this time it was just kissing some random girl instead of sleeping with her.

you knew what you were getting into when you began dating rafe. he came with a wild reputation and an even wilder past. practically everyone in your friend group had a one night stand with rafe, but you didn't mind, because he chose to come back to you, not anyone else.

“what are you thinking about baby?” rafe asks, watching the emotions flicker over your face.

“just how good of a boyfriend you can be.” you answer with a small smile. 

“yeah?” rafe smirks, his head tilting to the side as a mischievous look flashes over his eyes. “do you want me to show you just how good of a boyfriend or do you want breakfast first?”

“you first.” you say quickly. “and then bacon and eggs.”

“scrambled or sunny side up?”

“scrambled of course.”

rafe grin grows, hands moving against your bare skin. “just like im about to scramble your-”

“allllright.” you cut him off before he can finish his joke, laughing as you roll off of him.

“no come back.” he pouts, pulling you back against his body, molding his chest to your back as he spoons you.

“you're so ridiculous.” you chuff, though your voice betrays the affection simmering beneath the surface.

“ridiculously in love with you.” rafe counters, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. he just had you last night, but he's already craving you again, missing the feeling of your bodies pressed together in the most intimate way.

“you're extra corny this morning.” you hum out.

“sorry.” rafe chuckles. you love that he's only like this around you, and only when he's just cheated. he turns into a dopey lovesick puppy until the need for your forgiveness and guilt wears off and he's back to his normal self.

rafe places his hand on your stomach, circling around your soft skin, each movement sweeping lower every time, deliberate and teasing.

“rafe.” you whine, eyes shutting as he begins to dip into your underwear with every gesture. 

“mhm.” rafe hums. as much as he likes to tease you, he wants to pleasure you more. his hand dips all the way into your underwear, fingertips coming to your clit.

he knows your body so well, exactly what to do to drive you crazy, every touch sending electricity through your body. his strokes over your clit are gentle, occasionally purposely missing to rub lower towards your entrance, like he's teasing where he's going to be later. it’s a dance you’ve done a hundred times before, but it never gets old.

“that feels so good.” you moan out, not even realizing that your eyes had fallen closed. rafe moves his other hand so it's under your body, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he sculpts himself around you, other hand cupping your chest.

“mmm.” you hum, feeling rafes hardness pressing against your bum as his fingers stop teasing your clit, rubbing intensely now with the purpose of getting you wet and open.

“oh, baby.” rafe moans as you reach behind your back, hand cupping over his underwear, squeezing at his length through the fabric.

“fuck me. please.” you begin to move your hips, grinding yourself against his hand.

“be patient.” he tsks, fingers pinching at your nipple before going back to cupping your breast.

“unfair.” you pout, but decide two can play at that game, bringing your hand underneath his waistband to stroke up and down his cock.

you can't see rafes face, but you're sure his expression just shifted to one of pleasure.

his hand delves further between your legs, finger circling around your entrance only once before pushing into your cunt, making you moan loudly.

“fuck yes.” you rock your hips again, this time back against rafes crotch, your hand still moving up and down his cock.

“god, i can barely wait.” rafe groans, finger moving faster inside of you, building you up as quickly as he can.

“stop waiting then.” you move your hand, turning onto your back, rafes hand maneuvering to still fuck into you. “come on, rafey.”

you know once he sees your pout he can't resist, not when he's still making things up to you.

“god, that face kills me.” he presses a quick kiss against your lips before moving, pulling your underwear down and flinging them off the bed before disrobing himself.

you grin as rafe doesn't even bother to ask how you want him, instantly lying himself over top of you and lining up his cock with your entrance.

“i love you.” you press a kiss against rafes cheek as your arms loop around his shoulders.

“i love you.” rafe echos back, connecting your lips that quickly develop into moans as he pushes inside of you, engulfing his cock in your heat.

rafe knows he doesn’t need to give you time, already used to his cock being sheathed inside of you. he begins to swing his hips in an even rhythm.

your fingertips dig into his shoulders, pressing into his tanned skin.

“nobody even gets close to you.” rafe groans as you tighten your cunt around him every time he pulls out to thrust back in.

“its only you.” rafe continues as he drops one hand between your bodies, placing his thumb against your clit as he rubs to the rhythm of his thrusts. “only you.”

you can't help that smile that stretches across your face. you don't give a shit if it's only you, as long as he continues to fuck you like this and treat you like a queen.

“faster, rafe.” you pull his chest tighter against yours, your nipples pressing against his skin, stimulating them with his every movement as he speeds up.

“c-close.” you whine.

“me too.” rafe grunts in agreement. “gonna cum in you, yeah?”

“yes.” you nod rapidly. “yes, please, please, please, rafe.”

your head is swirling with the overwhelming pleasure as rafes thumb presses against your clit just as his cock is thrust deep inside of you. it's enough to throw you over the edge, back arching up into rafe as you moan loudly, legs shaking as you feel him lose it to, his moans loud in your ear as he pumps into you.

“fuck, b-baby, y/n.” rafe groans as he finishes, making sure you get every last drop inside of you.

rafe drops himself to the side of you, the mattress bouncing as you both become slack against the sheets, hearts beating fast and chest rising and falling rapidly.

“i really do love you baby.” rafe says, his voice soft and slightly hoarse. “im sorry i always fuck things up.”

“you don't, though.” you move so you're resting against rafes chest, snuggled against his side. “you make mistakes but you always come back and make it right, that's all i ask for.”

you hear rafe sniffle and you know he's holding back tears, always extra emotional after a reconciliation, as if hes purging himself from the guilt.

“ill go make you some breakfast now if you wanna get dressed.” rafe slides quickly off the bed, keeping his back to you as he pulls his underwear back on.

“why would i get dressed if i want you to fuck me again after breakfast?” you tease, your lip quirking up.

you see rafes hand raise to his face, and you know he's wiping at his cheeks, but you give him time to collect himself, secretly happy only you can make him act like this.

“alright.” rafe turns around, his eyes still glossy but filled with adoration as he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead. “bacon and scrambled eggs and then ill fuck you on the table, then in the shower, then ill take you shopping and fuck you in the dressing room.”

“perfect.” you grin.

[tbaluver]

The Love And DeepSpace Men- Boyfriend Headcanons + Scenarios/ Imagines Pt. 2

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: myself bc i craved writing something sweet genre: perhaps tooth rotting fluff fluff warnings: none unless you want cavities a/n: every day i wish they were real and every day i have a lads brain rot and i would gatekeep these ideas but i would never so here ya go ! lmk if i should write more of these ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა enjoy reading ! first part is here if you haven't read it! Pt.1 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

The type of boyfriend who will finish your food whenever you can't finish it. He'll let you eat his food even when you say you're not hungry or you don't want anything. If the food he gets isn't something you would want, he'll make sure to buy something for you even if you say you don't want it.

You can expect his hand to always sneak into your lap when you lay in bed together after a long day. Gently embracing your lower stomach and whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you both fall asleep.

If you can't sleep, he'll try to join you for midnight snacks and watch whatever's on TV. He's trying his best to stay awake but you can already see him dozing off, clutching the stuffed plushie you won at the arcade.

Scenario:

You two sat on the soft grass, surrounded by a blanket of stars that painted the dark canvas of the night sky, eagerly waiting for the shooting stars to streak by.

"Xavier do you have anything in mind for what you're going to wish for?"

He turns to you, his gaze softening and a gentle smile spreads across his face. "I don't need to wish for anything else if my wish has already come true- I'm looking right at her."

Zayne:

He keeps all the little trinkets you've given him by his nightstand at home and his desk at work. That way when he wakes up you're the first thing on his mind, not that you left his mind in the first place. Each time he glances at them, he's flooded with happy memories and filled with anticipation to return to your embrace.

The type of boyfriend who puts a blanket over you if you fall asleep on the couch and eventually carries you to your shared bed.

Puts a ridiculous amount of sugar in his coffee that kind of leaves you concerned for your lover's sweet tooth.

Scenario 1:

You two lay in bed together, enjoying the lazy morning, not wanting to get up as if doing so would mean the day truly had to begin. You trace the outlines of his bare chest, your fingers dancing over the area where his heart beats.

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously as he watches you glide your fingers gently around his chest.

“Finding your heart and seeing who lives there,”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, a smile curling on his lips. “No one is there right now.”

You frown at his response, a playful pout forming on your lips. He cups your cheek, finding your reaction to be amusing and adorable. “That’s because the owner of my heart is currently right in front of me.”

Scenario 2:

As Zayne rushes to get ready for an emergency call from the hospital, his glasses are perched on top of your head.

“Zayne, aren’t you forgetting something?” you hinted, leaning in for a goodbye kiss.

“Ah yes, thank you.” He retrieves his glasses and you mock a pout. But he leans down, brushing your lips with his with a sweet kiss, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I love you. Please don’t stay up waiting for me again.”

Rafayel:

Sometimes he can be your boyfriend but sometimes he's also like your child from how much you baby him

He needs to be close to you at all times. The type of boyfriend who is all over you all the time. He needs to be close and touching you at all times. If you got hot from cuddling, he'll have either his hands or legs over your body because if you were apart for more than a second he thinks he might explode.

The boyfriend who stays up making something special for days and stays up overnight just to make it perfect just for you.

The type of boyfriend who adjusts your do not disturb on your phone so only his notification pops up whenever you're on do not disturb.

Imagine swimming in the ocean, you're enveloped in his embrace as you both gaze at the moonlight and stars above. He holds you close, resting his chin gently on the top of your head while you nestle your hand and head against his chest. It’s perfect like this. Just two of you near his homeland, the sea. Just him and you in your own world where you both find peace with the gentle sounds of the waves surrounding you both.

Sylus:

At the beginning of your relationship he redecorates his entire home so that you'll like it more and feel more inclined to stay over and stay the night at his place.

He only has a soft spot for you and only you. You see a side of him no one else does and not just that but his super silly side.

Sometimes he'll lift you onto the counter or lift you up to get what you need on a high shelf just because he wants to hold you.

The type of boyfriend who gets on his knees or sits down to be on the same level as you when you don't want to look up at him anymore. If he was sitting, he's definitely pulling you to his lap because you're not going to be the only one standing!

The type to hold all of your shopping bags and pure for you when you’re out shopping together. He does not complain about holding your purse at all, not that it would ever bother him in the first place. Also does not complain about holding all of your shopping bags, it’s literally light work for him and he would encourage you to buy more things of whatever you wanted.

Imagine after a long night at an auction, you two stumble back into your shared home not breaking the kiss. Your hands rest on Sylus’s neck, slowly sliding down as he murmurs sweet phrases against your lips. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he carries you bridal style, guiding you both toward your shared bedroom.

[parfaitblogs]

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 

And then he was free. 

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 

You couldn't complain. 

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?" 

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 

"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?" 

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 

He liked to hear you. 

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 

"Touch myself?" 

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 

Thankfully, you didn't have to. 

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[gojoshooter]

Homesick Husband: Gojo Satoru

Pairing : unsealed!gojo x wife!y/n

A/N : here's my contribution to the return of our beefy gojo satoru's headcanons! enjoy ^^

WARNINGS : crying, established relationship

Unsealed!Gojo whose first thought after being released is to look for his wife

Unsealed!Gojo who forgets he has powers to teleport, running & stumbling his way home

Wife!y/n who just like the past eighteen days, sits on the dining table resting her head on it as gojo's plate of food get's colder

Unsealed!Gojo who runs his frantic hands all along your body for any sign of hurt or injury

Wife!y/n who mirrors his expression and action with reciprocated feelings

Unsealed!Gojo who pulls you a little too hard towards himself and feels your head bump into his chest

Wife!y/n throwing weak punches anywhere she can on gojo and biting on his biceps

Unsealed!Gojo whispering gentle sorries and promises to never leave again in your ears

Wife!y/n who after a good hour of sobbing into his husband's chest realizes just how buffier his body feels against her

Unsealed!Gojo who realizes his wife has only got skinnier and weaker

Wife!y/n who asks if he'd like his food reheated clearly unable to think how to act in the moment

Unsealed!Gojo who would shake his head with a chuckle as he sits on your seat placing you on his lap instead

Wife!y/n who's still crying so hard she can't chew on her food

Unsealed!Gojo who rubs your back gently and slowly reminding you to take it easy as he offers another spoonful

Wife!y/n refusing to eat anymore of it and burying her face in the crook of the man's neck, taking in the comforting scent she so longed for

Unsealed!Gojo who finishes both their plates with silent tears and a fast asleep wife in his lap

Wife!y/n who unconsciously clutchs the front of his black tshirt as he takes her to their room bridal style

Unsealed!Gojo who puts you and himself in your favourite couple pajamas ready for the bed

Wife!y/n who wakes up crying and shaking profusely in the middle of the night whisper shouting, "please s-satoru, don't be a dream" along her many incoherent words

Unsealed!Gojo who snuggles impossibly close to your fragile figure pressing long assuring kisses on your face and lips knowing they calm you down

Wife!y/n 's futile attempts at scooting away from her husband because this wouldn't have been how he expected her to react

Unsealed!Gojo who only brings your kicking legs together with his thighs, telling you to breathe from your nose before diving in for a particularly long kiss that doesn't end until you're sleep and sound...

A/N : n that's it! hope u liked it ^-^ likes & reblogs are appreciated ♡

Tags : @nanamikentoseyebags @maybekoya @luckimoon

[gumii-bearr]

Heyy i dont exactly know how to write request So im trying to do it like this i guess?..

Andd i would really like if you could do like heian sukuna nsfw? When its like morning, And reader wakes up to sukuna kissing her neck?

Pretty please 😞🩷

YES MA'AM HAHAHAH YESSSS this is gonna be true form sukuna btw... cus im kinda feral for him.

❝ use your words ❞

summary: you look so fucking cute when you're sleeping.

featuring... ryomen sukuna

content warning: MDNI (18+), fem!reader, slight somnophilia, true form sukuna, two dicks sukuna, double penetration oh god, ass play, anal (im sorry but im also not), fingering, anal fingering, spitting, cuddlefucking then doggy, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie (naughty naughty) rough sex, spanking, squirting, heian era sukuna, possessive sukuna, toxic relationship maybe?, biting, marking, swears?, size kink!, dirty talk, overstimulation, hand mouth oh lord.

author's note: FERAL I AM FERAL– IM SORRY IF THIS IS TOO MUCH BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY IM SORRY ANON

Sukuna finds it hard to resist you in this state.

He's not sure what it is about you. Perhaps the way your soft lips part as little breaths fan across his arm under your head, or maybe it's the way your yukata parts, showing the gentle swell of your breasts, your chest rising and falling slowly as you breathe.

He tends to just watch you when you're like this. Revel in the way your smaller body presses against his stocky build, how your small hands are clutched around his thick wrist.

He likes the power he has over you, how could he not? You're so fucking cute and innocent and it drives him mad.

You have no idea the effect you have on him, but you can sure feel it when he presses it against your clothed ass when you're busying yourself with chores or getting ready for your day.

Sukuna is always stalking around nearby, keeping a watchful eye (or eyes) on you. You're a good girl, you behave yourself, always willing and ready to please him. That's what he keeps you around for after all.

Because no one can compare to you.

Sukuna struggles to be gentle with you most of the time. Always grabbing and pulling and manhandling you into whatever position he wants you in.

But when you're sleeping so soundly beside him, your little ass wriggling against his hips and your eyelashes resting atop your cheeks, he almost wants to be gentle to keep you asleep.

One of Sukuna's hands rests on your waist, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your loose yukata to touch your tummy. You're so warm and so cute.

He lifts his head, licking his lips as his eyes catch the soft skin of your neck and shoulder. He can't help himself, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, lips grazing over the numerous love bites in various stages of healing over your pretty skin.

You whine in your sleep, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his lips across your sensitive neck.

"Shhh, shhh," he coos against your ear, another one of his hands pulling your yukata open, exposing your pretty tits to the cool night air.

Your little hands tighten around his forearm and he smirks against your neck. Another one of his lower arms moves down your exposed body toward your unclothed cunt, still wet and soft from earlier in the night.

His graze your wet heat, cunt still glistening with slick, just the way he likes to leave you.

Sukuna's lower arm snakes around your thigh, gently lifting your outer leg over his thick thigh, pressing his tight muscles against your unclothed heat.

"'Kuna?" your voice comes out in a tired whine, still quiet and laced with sleep.

"Go back to sleep, little one," he mutters against your ear, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

"Mm–" you hum, your hand grabbing at his large hand splayed over your tummy.

Sukuna finally presses his rough fingers against your clit, already swollen and red, begging for his attention. You let out a whiny moan at the feeling, your hand coming up to thread through Sukuna's hair as he kisses and bites at your neck.

"S'wet for me," he teases, grinning against your neck as your slick leaks out of you and onto his fingers, allowing him to quicken his pace against your little clit.

"Mm, 'Kuna, please," you whine, humping and grinding your hips against his thick, strong thigh.

"S'needy," his voice is low but he gives in to you, pressing his thick fingers into your little hole. You're only taking two of his fingers to the first knuckle and you're so tight. "Relax, little one. I can't give you what you want if you don't relax."

You do your best, releasing the tension in your thighs and letting Sukuna plunge his fingers into your gummy walls.

You throw your head back, allowing Sukuna to nip at your skin, your neck glistening with saliva from his wet kisses.

Sukuna's fingers are big and long, always able to reach parts of you that you could never reach with your own fingers, not that you ever have to anymore with how attentive Sukuna can be (more like he's always ready to fuck you good if you just say the word).

Sukuna lifts his thigh, pulling your legs further apart to fuck your little cunt open with his fingers, his fingers curling against the spongy spot inside you before scissoring you open to get you ready for him.

Sukuna isn't the type to get you off with just his fingers. He likes to, getting a fucking ego boost from the fact he can make you fall apart using just his hands.

But where's the fun in just getting you off?

"That's it, brat," he smirks, your slick dripping down the inside of your thighs and coating Sukuna's hand. "Always such a good girl f'me."

Sukuna manifests a mouth on his palm, a tongue sticking out to flick over your neglected clit. You whine loudly, your hand grabbing at his wrist because it's just too much. It feels too good.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, "mm-mm, little one. You're gonna take it, hm?"

It's not a question, it's a command.

His upper arm grabs at your hand, lifting it away from his lower wrist to pin it above your head.

Your thighs shake and your tummy burns as the tongue and fingers between your legs send you hurtling over the edge of bliss, your head throwing back with a loud moan, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and he fingers fucks you through your high.

"'Kuna-! P-Please," you cry out, thighs attempting to squeeze together as his fingers and tongue begin to overstimulate you.

"What's that, little one? Please what?" he's teasing you. Trying to embarrass you and make you beg.

"Fuck me," you whine, "please, please–"

"You think you deserve it? Going to bed with no panties? Sleeping in this thin little thing," he emphasises by rubbing your hardened nipple over the thin fabric of your yukata. "you wanted this, hm?"

"I always want you, 'Kuna," you let out a breathy sigh, "always wanna be ready f'you."

He smirks against your skin, "such a good little girl."

Sukuna suddenly rolls you onto your tummy, lifting your yukata over your ass (which is still red with bites and slap marks from the night before).

You help him as he uses his lower arms to lift your hips up, propping your ass up against his hardened clothed cocks.

"Feel what you do to me, little one?" he smirks, rolling your hips against his. "you have no shame."

You press your face into the sheets below, hands gripping the fabric as Sukuna kneads the flesh of your cute little ass.

Your back arches when Sukuna runs the pad of his thumb over the tight ring of muscles that is your little asshole. You're always so responsive to him, he's sure he'll never get enough of you.

"Such a whore having your little ass played with," his voice is low and god he likes teasing you because it's so easy.

"'Kuna," you whine as he circles your little asshole, your cunt spasming and throbbing without even being touched.

Sukuna leans over you, letting a glob of spit fall from his mouth and onto your tight rim. You moan at the coolness of it, resting your forehead against your forearm to attempt muffling your moans.

Sukuna chuckles lowly at you before pressing his thumb into your ass, just to the first knuckle, but enough for you to grip the sheets and pant at the burning stretch.

He's done this before, you've let him fuck your ass countless times but you'll never be able to get over how fucking good it feels to have him stretch you open.

Sukuna's upper arms are gripping your hips to keep your from squirming away from his touch while his lower hands play with you. One of them with a thumb in your ass while the other kneads at your asscheek and spreads you open.

He takes it slow at first, but Sukuna is not known for patience.

He presses the rest of his thumb into your ass, unable to resist a chuckle as you moan and cry into the pillows. He pumps his thumb in a few times before he pulls it out, letting you relax for half a moment before his fingers, still wet from the slick of your orgasm, press into your asshole to stretch you open for his thick cock.

"Mm– F-Fuck–" you curse, fist scrunching into the sheets.

One of Sukuna's upper hands suddenly grips your hair, pulling you up against him harshly, your thighs quivering.

"M'gonna fuck your little ass and your pussy at the same time, can you handle that f'me, little one?"

You nod your head without thinking, feeling Sukuna's thick fingers inside you making you absolutely dizzy.

"Mhm-! I can do it," you cry out, his other hand coming up to wrap around your pretty throat, squeezing softly.

"Mm, good girl, I know you can do it," he grins, finally letting go of your hair and your throat to force you back down onto the mattress.

Sukuna finally pulls his fingers out of your ass and shrugs off the yukata draped over him, letting his hard, leaking cocks spring free, his upper cock slapping against his toned abdomen.

You peer behind you and watch as Sukuna pumps his upper cock, the tip red, leaking and angry.

You gulp back the spit pooling in your mouth, your pupils dilated as you peer up at his toned, tattooed body with those cute little eyes.

"I'll start gentle, baby girl," he smirks, already reading your mind with how you eye his cock closely.

He'll start gentle. Key word is start.

Sukuna grips his upper cock, his free hand spreading your slick over his cock to make it easier to push into your tight ass.

You let out a choked moan when he presses his tip against the tight ring of muscles, slowly easing his tip inside you. You cry and whine against the mattress as Sukuna eases into you.

"Shh, shh, you want the whole country to know what a whore you are for my cocks?" Sukuna coos, hands gripping your hips.

You don't know what fucking planet you're on when Sukuna finally bottoms out inside your ass, feeling every ridge and vein of his heavy cock.

"Told you to relax," Sukuna grunts, landing a hard smack! to your ass.

"M'trying," you cry, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks, "just s'big, 'Kuna."

Sukuna smirks and chuckles before pulling half way out and slamming his hips back in, your plush ass rippling against his hips.

Your thighs quiver and shake, back arching as Sukuna slowly and achingly pumps his thick cock into your ass, trying to loosen you just a little so he can fuck you into oblivion.

You nearly fucking scream when he lifts his other cock tip to your wet little cunt, pressing the tip inside you.

You feel so fucking full.

Sukuna fucks the air out of you when he sheathes both of his cocks into your snug little ass and cunt. You feel fucking dizzy, like your head will explode with how full of him you feel.

He's stretching you open and it burns but fuck it feels so good.

He lets you adjust for a moment, feeling your holes clench around him, so tight it might snap his cocks clean off.

"Feels good, huh?" He knows it feels good, your body is telling him everything he needs to know.

From how your cunt drips, slick running down your thighs, coating his cock and soaking the blankets below you. From how you pant and cry and whine like the little crybaby you are. He makes you feel so fucking good and it goes straight to his head.

"M'gonna move, little one. You gonna take it?"

You nod your head, panting against the mattress.

"Words," he commands, yanking on your hair again. "Use your words."

You bite at your lip, the burn in your skull from how hard he's gripping your hair would be awful if you weren't so tragically into it.

"I wan' you to move," you pant out, "please, 'Kuna."

He smirks at the little nickname before letting go of your hair to wrap his thick hand around your throat, squeezing softly as he pulls almost all the way out before slamming his hips back in.

Sukuna sets a brutal pace, your ass sore and red from how hard his hips slam against it. Your hands don't know what to grab so you grab at his hand around your throat.

Sukuna is strong enough to hold you up with just an arm, he's always been stronger than you with how he manhandles and carries you around.

His hands are all over you, gripping your hip, another gripping your throat, another circling your clit while his last free hand gropes at your bouncing tits.

Sukuna loves to overstimulate you, he loves how fucked out and stupid you get when you can't take all the pleasure he's giving you.

So he manifests mouths on all his hands, tongues flicking over your clit and nipples and throat. You scream out a choked moan, eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling of Sukuna everywhere.

His thick cocks split you open, pumping hard inside you and prodding at the most sensitive parts of you.

He bullies his cocks into you, the lewd skin on skin and squelches bouncing off the walls.

You're so damn loud and Sukuna can't get enough of it.

"M'gonna cum in your ass and cunt, little one. You want that?" He's teasing you again, he's gonna cum inside you no matter what, it's where his seed belongs, dripping from your little holes.

"Yes, yes-! I wan' it," you choke out.

"Good, cus I'm gonna fuck you full."

If he could fuck you any harder you'd say it was impossible, but Sukuna was never one to be strapped down by such absurdity.

Sukuna fucks you harder, tip prodding against your cervix while the other reaches deeper and deeper into your ass. He's groaning and grunting behind you, muttering about what a good girl you are while teasing you about being a whore for him.

You feel your belly burn but it feels different this time, a pressure building in your lower belly that hurts.

"W-Wait, 'Kuna– Something feels w-weird!"

Sukuna chuckles against your shoulder, biting down on the skin, "just let it happen, little one, 's gonna feel so good."

"Mm, b-but–" you cut yourself off with a moan as you feel something snap.

You gush hard around Sukuna's cocks, crying out as you squirt all over his lower abdomen, his thighs, your thighs and the blankets.

Sukuna can only laugh as he fucks you through your high, hands gripping your hips to slam you back to meet his thrusts.

"That's it, baby girl, s'good," he grunts out as he feels his own release crash into him, spurting hot ropes of his cum against your gummy walls.

You go limp as he continues to fuck you through his own high, fucking you so full of his cum that it slips out of your tight holes and down your legs.

Sukuna finally stops, cocks throbbing inside you as he lets go of your throat, allowing you to pant and whimper against the blankets.

"Hah, s'good, brat," he groans, finally pulling out of you with a quiet pop!

You whimper at the emptiness, your holes still spasming as his thick cum leaks out of you.

"Hah, that's a sight."

You feel like you're floating, your ass still in the air as you pant, attempting to catch your breath.

Sukuna stands up, disappearing somewhere before lifting your head.

You're covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your baby hairs sticking to your skin and your eyes tired and fucked out.

Sukuna's fingers rest under your chin as he eyes you.

"You did good, brat," he praises.

You smile tiredly before he leans down to press the softest kiss to your lips, something that is entirely rare for Sukuna.

"Yeah..." he mutters against your lips, "you did good, but you're not done."

Sukuna smirks against you before letting go of your chin and gripping the base of his still-hard upper cock. Your little doe eyes meet his and he raises a brow expectantly before pressing the tip to your lips.

"Well? Open up, little one."

author's note: i'm so bricked up. happy 1,000 followers!!!

[captain-hawks]

double shift

— kento nanami x f!reader

summary: Kento Nanami hates overtime, but who is he to say no when his boss asks him to go check on his wife while he's out of town?

word count: 4.2k

content: NSFW, 18+, smut, infidelity, heavy lactation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, degradation, dirty talk, squirting, breeding kink, restraints, counter sex, wet & messy

Kento’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he stares at his phone nestled in the cupholder, limbs taut with aggravation as the bored voice of his boss continues on, “She hasn’t been answering my calls all day, and I’m not flying back for another week yet. I know you’re probably about to leave the office, but I’m going to need you to stop at my house and check on her first, Nanami.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the words ‘OVERTIME’ flashing red behind his eyes and drawing forth a fresh surge of anger that has him contemplating the consequences of smashing his phone on the pavement outside and finding a new job entirely.

Today has been shit.

Capital S, Shit.

His asshole boss has been out of town for nearly a week already, every client is somehow ten times more unbearable than usual, the incompetence across the office has become a goddamn disease, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that that piece of shit is doing anything  but keeping his dick in his pants while his wife and their new baby are left home alone.

His very attractive, very lovely wife who probably has no idea what a waste of oxygen her husband is. 

You’re too fucking good for him.

And you’re also too good for Kento, who’s spent more nights than he’d care to admit furiously fisting his cock to the memory of whatever tantalizing outfit you’d turned up at the office wearing that day.

And seeing you pregnant?

While the knowledge that you were now entirely stuck with that undeserving asshole sent his blood boiling, Kento could hardly complain about the sight of you during those months, his shaft straining painfully in his slacks every time he laid eyes upon your gloriously swollen, heavy breasts. 

And the cum he splattered all over the mirror and sink after inevitably rushing out of his office when you finally left? Well, that was between him and the four walls of the men’s bathroom. 

So after the awful day he’s already had, Kento’s not sure he can imagine a worse type of overtime than waltzing into your house and playing the part of a dutiful employee checking in on his boss’s wife, acting like he doesn’t want to fuck you so bad it’s driving him up a goddamn wall.

But he’ll fucking do it.

Of course he will. 

“Sure,” he replies tersely, before hanging up and peeling out of the parking lot.

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

She’s finally asleep.

Sighing weakly in relief, you close the door to your daughter’s bedroom and shuffle down the hallway. You make it all the way to the kitchen before you’re forced to lean heavily against the countertop, gritting your teeth as another wave of discomfort radiates from your sore, swollen breasts. 

“Hello?” a familiar, male voice tentatively calls out in a hushed tone.

You whip around, still clutching the counter for support, eyes widening at the side of Kento Nanami standing in the doorway to your kitchen. 

“Hi?” you respond, your heart doing a somersault as you drink in the sight of his tall, muscled form. 

He twirls a key around his finger twice before catching it in the palm of his hand and stuffing it in his pocket. “I apologize for barging in, but your spare key hiding spot is shit, and I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and wake the baby.”

“It’s okay, Nanami,” you assure him, the erratic thrumming in your chest far from a feeling of fear.

For whatever reason, he appears to be attempting to avert his eyes after glancing over at you quickly, roughly running a hand through his hair. “Your husband asked me to check on you. He said he hasn’t heard from you all day,” he explains carefully. 

“Well, I figured it would be rude to interrupt the wild orgies he pays for with the company credit card,” you deadpan.

Nanami’s jaw ticks, “He—”

“I’m well aware of what he does.”

“Then why—”

“Because I realized too late, and I’m too tired to do anything about it right now,” you sigh, wincing at the continuous ache of your breasts.

And it’s then that you realize why Nanami’s been looking anywhere but at you directly.

You’re wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and knee-high socks, which in and of itself isn’t overtly reprehensible, given that you’re in your own house, you have a four-month-old child, and you can’t remember the last time you got a full night’s rest. The issue is that your breasts are so sore and tender right now, you haven’t been able to even look at a bra in days. 

Which, once again, wouldn’t be an issue alone in the privacy of your home…when one of your husband’s employees isn’t desperately trying not to acknowledge the fact that two large wet spots have soaked through your shirt. 

“I should…” you trail off awkwardly, glancing around the room in hopes that you left one of your flannel over shirts lying within reach. 

“It’s fine,” Nanami blurts out, scratching the back of his head and studiously feigning interest in the collection of party invites and shopping lists stuck to the side of your fridge. 

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s not fine. 

It’s anything but fine. 

It’s a complete fucking disaster. 

Kento hasn’t seen you since you gave birth. And despite how exhausted he knows you are—he can see it in the bags under your eyes and the limpness of your posture— your soft pregnancy glow has transformed into a postpartum radiance that has his breath catching in his throat each time his eyes sweep over you. 

You’re fucking stunning. 

And somehow, he knows your husband hasn’t noticed this. Hasn’t told you how incredible you are, how fantastic motherhood looks on you. It sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through him, the mere thought that he could bear to let himself stray from you—especially now, at such a vulnerable time. 

But any hopes Kento had of trying not to commit this sight of you to memory were swiftly dashed the moment he noticed the wet spots on your shirt. 

Even now, when he’s looking at a box of cereal on the counter as if it’s the most interesting thing in the entire world, every layer of his inner psyche is rapidly overheating at the thought of your heavy, swollen breasts. The milk leaking from them, soaking through your clothes and inevitably trailing down your stomach. 

He needs to fucking leave. Now. 

“I should go—“

“—do you want some tea?”

You both speak at the same time, and when Kento turns to face you again, you’ve slipped a blue flannel shirt on, buttoning it up partway. As if his traitorous cock will somehow forget what he now knows is obscured underneath the added layer of material. But despite the growing discomfort swelling and throbbing against the zipper of his pants, he concedes, his need to quell the apparent loneliness in your eyes with a moment of company winning out over his lust-addled desire to disappear to the nearest private place to jerk off. 

He’s thankful to sit after you pour him a cup, hiding any and all evidence of what a terrible man he is beneath the table, one leg idly bouncing as he wills his hard on to go down. It’s a big ask, though, given that you’re probably not even aware of what you’re doing to him when you lean your body over the kitchen island with your mug clutched between your fingers as you idly chat with him, your oversized shirt just barely masking the flash of pink panties it reveals beneath each time your shoulders bounce as you laugh. 

He’s two seconds from excusing himself to put his fucking dick in the freezer. 

His chair scrapes against the tile floor as he pushes it back, having decided he’s at his limit, but he pauses when a pained sound escapes your lips. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, hurrying over to where you’re now pressing your forehead against the island countertop, whimpering softly. His hand hovers for a moment before he opts to gently touch your shoulder, just to let you know he’s there. 

Your fingers scrape over the marble as you breathe out in a quiet voice, “No.”

As if on instinct, Kento begins to rub small, comforting circles into your upper back, his tentative touches growing more confident when he feels your tense body behind to relax slightly. 

“What’s wrong? What can I do?”

You whine again, standing up straighter but keeping your back to him as you clutch at your chest. “They…they hurt so bad.”

Kento’s halfway certain his soul has left his body as he watches, stunned, while you slide your hands up under your shirt and squeeze at your breasts, exhaling a chorus of breathy little sounds like the fucked up cherry on top. 

“Do you need to…” he trails off, and though you can’t see from where he’s standing behind you, he vaguely gestures in the general direction where he can only surmise the baby’s room is. 

“It’s…they’re clogged,” you whisper, elbows lifting up and revealing the small of your back as you begin to knead your tits desperately. “They’ve been so sore and swollen for days.”

Kento bites his lower lip, mentally steadying himself for a moment before he asks, “Tell me how I can help.”

“Can you grab a clean washcloth out of the drawer next to the sink and soak it in hot water?”

He swiftly complies with your request, returning moments later after wringing out the small towel and waiting for it to cool down slightly. You’re still using the counter to steady yourself, so he approaches you from behind and goes to hand you the washcloth, only to find his hand immediately pinned between your own and one of your breasts. 

You let out a whimpering cry of relief, and it takes everything in him not to let out the noise rumbling in his own throat as you squeeze his hand over your tit. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “It just feels so…”

“It’s okay,” Kento murmurs. “Relax.”

Internally, every single warning bell inside of his head is blaring indignantly over the fact that he’s got his hand under his boss’s wife’s shirt, and he’s massaging her lactating breasts with a hot towel while she whimpers and presses into his touch. 

But your fingers are laced with his, and you’re not telling him to stop. 

In fact, you’re begging him to keep going, keeping a hold of his left hand when he switches the towel to his right, urging him to massage both of your tits at the same time. And who is he to tell you no?

Kento’s fairly certain his balls are going to be aching for days when he feels the warm liquid that begins to coat his fingers.

Fucking fuck. 

What the fuck is he doing?

Then your back arches as you outright moan when he brazenly toys with both of your nipples at the same time, milk squirting out, your ass pressing directly into his throbbing erection. 

And fuck it, fuck dignity, because Kento’s on the verge of coming in his pants. 

But then you spin around to face him, your back pressed into the island as you gaze at him shyly and say, “I…I think I need more.”

Your eyes flick from his mouth back down to your breasts, and he cups the side of your face as he asks, “Are you sure?”

You nod, slipping your shirt off entirely and tossing it aside, and Kento’s mouth goes dry as he stares at the trails of milk leaking from your tits, wondering how he’d ever thought to call today ‘Shitty’. 

He motions toward the counter, his large hands grasping your waist to help you get seated up on top of it, fingertips hesitant to pull away from your lacy panties when he spies the wet spot over your cunt. 

Kento has never thought of himself as a greedy man. Far from it, actually. 

But the moment his mouth latches onto one of your hot, swollen breasts, pulling a shameless moan from your pretty lips as your thighs wrap around him, the sweet taste of your milk hitting his tongue, he feels fucking insatiable. 

His mind is a buzz of static as he drinks from your tits, all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, precum soaking through his boxers and slacks. Your fingers tangle in his hair, the heel of your foot pressing into his back and pulling him closer, and he groans, one hand grasping your upper thigh as he teases your nipples between his teeth and squeezes a spray of liquid onto his gluttonous tongue. 

“Feels so good, Nanami,” you whine, fingertips sliding down the front of his dress shirt, catching on each button.  

“Kento,” he exhales, licking up the milk dripping down your chest. 

“Kento,” you moan, tugging hard on the tousled blond strands that have fallen onto his forehead. 

And at the sound of your breathy, wrecked tone moaning out his name for the first time, every nerve ending in Kento’s body goes up in flames. 

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Nothing has ever felt this good. 

Nothing. 

Kento Nanami’s sinful mouth is latched onto your heavy, engorged tits, greedily drinking every spurt of breast milk that comes leaking out of you, the flow growing steadier with each lap and squeeze. 

He has no fucking clue that most of your impromptu visits to the office are actually to see him. To talk to him, if only for a few moments. Kento Nanami, who has always treated you with unfailing kindness under his sometimes brash exterior. Who extends more patience toward you than all of his coworkers combined. 

He has no idea how trapped you feel in your marriage, how often you’ve longed for the bland touch of your husband in bed to be his. 

He doesn’t know how many times you’ve brought yourself over the edge with your fingers with his face lingering in your mind, the rough, teasing sound of words you’ve imagined in his voice playing out in your head like the most sinful soundtrack you’ve ever heard. 

And now he’s grunting and moaning as he makes a mess of both of you, his lips and chin gleaming with the same wet, sticky milk that’s all over your chest and thighs and his hands and pooling on the countertop beneath you. 

It’s filthy.

It’s so fucking filthy. 

And maybe it’s wrong. 

But you’re so desperate for him. For this. You need more. You need it so badly, you can hardly breathe. Searing desire is coiled so tightly in your abdomen, you’re trembling with restraint, aching with the desire to beg him to fuck you. You know he wants it, too, though. It’s hard to miss the thick, mouth-watering outline of his cock straining against his pants, like a beacon waiting to fulfill your darkest desires. 

It’s a line you know he won’t cross unless you ask for it. 

“Kento,” you murmur again, pulling his face up to meet yours. 

“Mmm?” he asks, pupils blown wide with lust, and you can tell he’s slightly dazed, drunk off of the taste of the milk leaking from your tits. 

You lean closer, letting your lips hover over his, Kento’s breath mingling with your own as you whisper, “Please touch me.”

He gently pushes your thighs further apart, carefully running a finger over the front of your panties. His voice is a rough, gravelly sound as he asks, “Here?”

A thrill shoots up your spine at the feather-light touch. “Yes.”

“More?” he questions, his lips brushing against your mouth as he hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them aside. 

“More,” you keen, bucking into him as his knuckles graze your clit. 

He slides a finger through your folds, visibility shuddering as he comments, “You’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” you pant, trying to resist the urge to shamelessly start riding his hand. 

Kento’s mouth engulfs yours in a rough, hungry kiss at the same moment he slides a thick digit into your cunt, and he swallows down the whimpering cry of pleasure that spills out of you. His lips are relentless as they slot against yours, and you arch into him, every part of your body drawn to his blazing touch on your skin. 

You can taste the remnants of your breastmilk on Kento’s lips, but you don’t care as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you so deeply it makes your toes curl, one hand cradling the back of your head while he stuffs a second finger into your hole. 

And just when you thought you couldn’t get any more sensitive under his touch, he dips his head back down to continue ravishing your forgotten breasts, pumping his soaked fingers in and out of your pussy all the while. 

“Kento,” you whimper, chest heaving as you press your heels into the cabinets below, every muscle in your body going taut under the onslaught of arousal coursing through you. 

“Can you come for me?” he asks, his gravelly, barely restrained tone searing itself into your mind. 

It’s the combination of his thumb massaging circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves and the sight of milk dripping down his chin as he messily drinks from you that sends you tumbling over the edge, the rubber band inside of you snapping like a whip as your orgasm washes over you. There’s an unfamiliar feeling that accompanies it, clear liquid squirting from your cunt and soaking the front of Kento’s dress shirt. 

Kento’s eyes darken a fraction as he grasps your chin, thumb pressing into your bottom lip. “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing you. “Good fucking girl.”

Hand reaching between your bodies, you grasp his cock through his slacks, marveling at how maddeningly thick he feels. 

“I want you to fuck me now, Kento,” you tell him in no uncertain terms, rubbing your palm up and down his erection for good measure. “Fuck me like I’m a bad girl.”

Kento growls, hand palming the side of your neck, thumb caressing your collarbones, “You have no fucking clue what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

You’ve hardly had a chance to unbutton his pants before he’s slipping your panties down, stuffing them into his pocket. His hands come up to undo his tie, but rather than tossing the silky material aside, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he steps around the island, pulling your hands behind your back and tying your wrists together snugly with the yellow and black material. Anticipation zings through your chest, a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your sensitive cunt. 

“Is that too tight?”

You shake your head. “It’s perfect.”

He wastes no time in shedding the rest of his clothes, and you find yourself pressing hard against the restraints once you see his cock in all its glory, thick and flushed and so fucking big that you whimper.  

You spread your legs wide for him again as he steps between them, rubbing the leaking head of his cock against your damp slit. He notches it at your entrance, tilting your chin to his mouth and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

Kento’s hands grasp your hips as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance, slowly easing into you. He massages your breasts, his hot mouth nipping and lapping a trail from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe while he pushes deeper into your cunt. When he eventually bottoms out, you’re both breathing hard, and his tie is fighting for its life to keep your wrists bound behind you. 

“Are you okay?” 

You let out a huff of air, your entire body poised to implode with the weight of the lust and pleasure raging inside of you. “Fuck me like you mean it, Kento.”

Whatever thinly veiled restraint was left in him crumbles to dust at your request, and Kento tugs you closer to the edge of the counter as he begins to pound into your cunt at a ruthless pace, splitting you open right in the middle of your kitchen. The cool marble is slick and sticky beneath you, covered in a myriad of filthy fluids that continue to leak out of you. 

“So beautiful,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough snap of his hips. 

“I feel like a whore,” you admit, biting your lower lip, tits bouncing heavily with his punishing thrusts. 

A short, dark laugh escapes Kento’s lips, his brows raising. He leans in, stuffing his cock deep into your cunt as he presses his mouth to yours and murmurs, “Well you’re my pretty, filthy whore.”

If your husband talked to you like this, you’d slap him. But from Kento…the liquid heat that churns in your belly is anything but anger. 

“Am I?” you ask, trying to sound as innocent as you can when he’s balls deep inside of you. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, not missing a beat as he catches on to what you want to hear. He squeezes your tits, milk squirting everywhere. “My dirty slut. You’re such a good girl, making a such a fucking mess. Squirting all over me while your tits leak everywhere.”

You gasp as he leans down, burying his face in your tits, latching on to one of your nipples and drinking deeply from you again. The combined feeling of him sucking on your breasts and the push and drag of his shaft inside of you leaves you cock drunk, begging and babbling senselessly as tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Wanna put another baby in you, keep these nice and round and full for me,” he grunts, letting milk spray from your tits and leak down your bodies, dripping down his cock and coating his balls. 

The thought leaves you dizzy and breathless, keening as you imagine Kento filling you over and over with his seed. Waking up each morning to his cock already stuffed inside of you, fucking the previous night’s cum right back into your needy cunt. Tying you up to your bed posts with that goddamn tie. The satisfaction on his face when your breasts grow heavy and your belly grows round again for him, awakening something so feral inside of him he’s incapable of keeping his mouth off of your tits and his cock from the heat between your thighs whenever you’re alone. 

Rational thinking is a thing of the past as you choke out, nearly sobbing with pleasure, cunt squelching wetly as he pounds into you, “Fill me, Kento. Please.”

Kento curses, leaning in to caress the side of your face as he mutters, “My filthy girl.”

“Yours,” you pant. “I’m yours.”

He captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss, fingers grasping your hips for purchase as he plunges into your cunt, drawing shuddering, unabashed moans out of you. “Come all over my cock then,” he instructs, his rough tone dragging down your spine, fingers toying with your clit while your pussy clenches down on every inch of him. 

And when he leans down, holding eye contact with you as he licks up a forgotten trail of milk rolling down one of your tits, there’s nothing that can stop the searing explosion of pleasure that ignites inside of you, your entire body trembling with the relentless, burning hot flood of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

He follows moments after you, driving his length in to the hilt as he groans, fingers gripping you tightly, his thick cock pulsing heavily inside of you as he fills your cunt deeply with ropes of cum. As fucked out as you feel, you can’t help but whine at the ceaseless arousal that stirs within your gut as your pussy quivers around the stretch of his cock, milking every drop of Kento’s seed from him. 

Kento feels you subtly rocking your hips back into him, and his answering chuckle is like warm honey as he reaches between you. He plays with your overstimulated clit, pressing gentle kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as his seed begins to leak out of you. You moan softly, head falling against his shoulder, pleasure mounting inside of you once more. Leveraging what remains of his softening cock, he slowly fucks his cum back inside of you, his rough whispers of praise a warm caress against the shell of your ear as your entire body dissolves into one last blissful climax that leaves you completely boneless. 

You have all of two minutes to bask in the afterglow, Kento’s hands and lips tenderly mapping out your body, when the sound of your phone ringing on the countertop beside you startles you both. Your gaze meets his as you both see the unwelcome name that flashes on the screen, and he promptly flips your phone over and scoops you into his arms as he makes his way toward the living room.

“If I’m working overtime, I’m making this a double shift.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[tojikai]

Sundered (Alt. Ending): CRUSH

Pairing: Gojo x reader - Toji x reader (this part)

• Part 1  |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Sundered+ (COMMISSION)

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments

word count: 5.8k

a/n: here it is! (it's late, sorry. not proofread too😭) im forever grateful to you all who waited and supported the sundered series and for supporting my other stories too. i cant do much but this means so much. ily.

If you never talk to him again, he will miss you forever.

“Do I not deserve it?” You asked him, almost flinching at your words when you promised yourself you’d never ask anyone that. Toji sighed, taking both of your hands and bringing them to his lips. “Not this. You deserve more than this. You deserve to be genuinely happy without sacrificing anything, without feeling spent.”

Your brows furrowed, trying to contain another flood of tears threatening to overflow from your already swollen eyes. Why does it always have to be so hard when it's you? When it was Satoru who tried to move on, he did with Naomi. You wouldn’t say it was a breeze for them but you just know it was never this hard.

Naomi and Satoru stayed together for a year, being the family you couldn’t give your child. And now you, you couldn’t even make it work with Toji. Why do you always have to feel stuck? Why does he refuse to take your hand and pull you out of this void that is slowly sucking you down?

Along with these thoughts, you felt a squeeze in your hand. “Y/N?” Toji called, “Y/N, it’s gonna be alright.”  No, it’s not, you thought. The roof of your mouth tastes bitter against your tongue; so bitter that it burns. “It’s not. But it’s alright. I just don’t want you to feel burdened with this, alright?” You reached up to his face, eyes wandering.

“I’m sorry.” You felt selfish. You felt so selfish for not thinking about how this void of yours could pull him down with you instead of him pulling you up. You felt so selfish for wanting him to keep hurting just so you could feel safe. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, I didn’t realize it would be this hard on you too.” Your throat feels tight all of a sudden.

You stepped away from him, sniffing as you wiped your tears away. You couldn’t remember what else he said, you couldn't remember how you ended up in that room alone, crying as you clutched your chest, blaming yourself for wearing out such a good man.

You couldn’t remember, or more like you chose not to carve into your memory how that day ended. The only image you can see in your head is how he cuddled you to sleep, woke you up to eat with him and the kids, and went home. You remember him saying that they could always visit. And you hated yourself for doubting him.

Now you smooth out the bed, rearranging the pillows and gaslighting yourself that you’ve been the only one sleeping on it all this time just so it wouldn't feel so unfamiliar. You changed the sheets and prayed you wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night, reaching for the man you love. 

And the fact that this wouldn’t be the first time that you would do so…

You remembered how you would wake up and break down at midnights during the first few months of your separation from Satoru, weeping as you ran to your daughter’s crib just to remind yourself to be stronger, locking your phone away to not call and embarrass yourself in front of him and his then-new girlfriend again.

You heard the sound of the video your daughter was watching as she sat on the bean bag in the corner of your room. “Mama, look it.” You heard her tiny footsteps tap the floor as she ran to you, holding the phone out. The screen flashed with Toji’s caller ID, “Thank you, baby.” You kissed her cheek as you picked her up to sit her on your lap. 

“Yeah?,” You answered, hearing a sigh from the other end. You pulled your toddler closer to you just as she started to move near the edge of the bed. You that your voice didn’t sound hoarse at all. You didn’t cry as hard as you did with Satoru, but it was painful enough that you had to pause some chores just so you could think of a solution to fix it. 

You doubted there was a fix and if there was, you felt like Toji would only be trying out of pity for you.

You’re tired of that. You don’t want people to feel sorry for you anymore. You feel like you’ve been nothing but pitiful every year of your life. Your dad gave up on you and your mother, your baby daddy gave up on your relationship with him and now you feel like you caused Toji to give up on you too. 

Your brows bumped together at the thoughts and you were quick to shake your head, hoping it would shed off the searing pain in your chest as well. You can't have self-pity when you have a child. You’re determined to be better for her. Your index finger found its place on your lips, listening to your ex’s voice.

“Just wanna know how you’re doing.” You wanted to laugh, not to mock him but because you don’t really know how to explain how you feel to him. You decided to answer it from the surface, “I am okay, surprisingly.” You sniffed, hearing a sigh from the other end of the line and a tiny laugh from Megumi, probably watching something on his iPad. 

You would say it’s too early for him to call you, but this whole breakup isn’t even like the normal ones. You broke up for each other's well-being. Not because you fought, not because one of you cheated, not because you just started to hate each other. You broke up wanting only the best for each other.

“I know this is for the best.” You wanted to help Toji feel better about this decision. You could tell that there was guilt on his part. He probably feels like what he did was just an inch kinder than Satoru’s way of leaving you. That would eat him inside. The last thing Toji wants to do is shatter all your progress.

“I don’t feel the best about it.” There was no hint of amusement in his chuckle, no trace of smile in his words. You don’t even know if he meant to say he feels bad for doing this to you. You don’t want to assume that he’s not doing better away from you because you’re pretty sure he’s more relaxed now that he doesn’t have to worry about his girlfriend thinking of someone even when she’s with him. 

“Please, don’t dwell on it. I, uh, I have thought things through and it’s… it’s just getting kind of lighter for me.” You blinked away each tear that came with the lies that are flowing out of your tongue. It’s not getting any lighter. If anything, the crushing weight is still continuously pressing down on you and you know any time soon, you might break down in this phone call.

“I don’t know if I can trust your words…” Aside from the fact that it has only been a day, Toji thought back on your last conversation before you broke up. He’s well-aware of your tendencies to push all of your feelings aside  because you blame yourself for the fall of your relationship. You would probably shoulder all of this again, like you did with your separation from Satoru.

Toji isn’t all clean here but he doesn’t know how to get that to you. You can be very stubborn when it comes to these things especially when it concerns your past. It’s an unhealed part of you and Toji can’t help but feel like your previous arguments, his words to 

you and how he made you feel contributed to it rather than alleviate it.

“Toji, this isn't good for me. For us,” You’re not talking about your relationship with him but it’s about him contacting you. “I know that we’re still good, we broke up to save each other,” you laughed half-heartedly, “Our kids are friends, of course, we can’t just throw that away, but for now…” You took a deep breath.

“For now, let’s give each other space. I’m not mad at you, I could never hate you but, Toji, this isn’t helping me at all.” The crack in your voice sent a blow to Toji’s heart, “I…I want to be able to talk to you, see you and visit Megumi with Yui without feeling the guilt of letting something so good slip away so, please...” You took a deep, painful breath.

“Let’s just give each other some space. Just until I have picked myself up again.” You covered your mouth, desperate to turn away from your child who’s been starting to glance at you. Toji’s silence felt like it could squeeze you, like a soundless bubble getting smaller and smaller around you. 

“I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t have called.” Of course, you’re not fine, Is he out of his mind? The voices in Toji’s head knocked sense into him as he realized what he did. How could he be so insensitive? Is it because he knows of his crimes, the source of his guilt and how he didn’t think it would affect him as much as it does now?

Now, even this breakup feels selfish. How could he just decide to leave when you’ve been trying so hard? He’s not different from your baby daddy—running away when they couldn’t handle the pressure, leaving you to clean up after the mess. Toji closed his eyes tight, clearing his head, begging himself to say the right words and make the correct decisions.

“I—I’m still here for you always, alright? Take care, Y/N. Kiss Yui good night for me.” He spoke slowly, fighting the loss in the empty space he’s staring at, absorbing your soft hums and apology as he continued, “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry, baby. It took every fiber in his baby not to say it like that. For your sake. And for him. 

If you never talk to him again, he will miss you forever.

You put the phone down, feeling your daughter’s head on your chest as she stared up at you. Your mother once said that children do not understand these things yet but they feel their parents’ pain when it happens. And just like that, it’s almost as if your baby girl can read you. Her eyes says that she wants to help but doesn’t know how because she doesn’t eve understand it.

“Mama sad?” Her voice was small, it’s amazing that even at her age she knows how to try and soothe you. She knows that this is not the time to be playful without even knowing the situation. All she knows is that her mother is sad and crying. “No, mama’s just tired.” You smiled at her and for the first time she seems hesitant to reciprocate it.

“Mama sleep.” She got suddenly, bouncing her way to the spot next to you as she gets into a curled sleeping position. She’s a smart child. You laid down next to her, cuddling her small frame for as long as she can sit still but it wasn’t long before she was playing again, forgetting about it all. She’s still a baby after all. But this kid right here is the one who will always pull you out of the waters.

You wished that you could forget and get over this as quickly as this baby does, You wished it would all just fly out of your mind, that you could just throw up all of the pain out of your heart. You wished that you could just dust off the broken pieces of your relationship from your clothes, that you could scrub away the pain in the shower and watch it flow down the drain.

—————————-

“Look, I know Yui’s always been our priority but if you need a bit of time for yourself, you know you can leave Yui with me.” Satoru came earlier than expected. You can tell that he’s trying to stay inside the ‘boundaries’ as he struggled to find the right words to say about your breakup with Toji.

“You should take a break from work, if you think that’s what you need, I will-“ You placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. Satoru doesn’t want to seem like he’s taking advantage of the situation, that’s the last thing he wants to do. As painful as it is to admit it, he knows that you love Toji. 

“Thanks. But it’s alright. We’re good, we’re just…not dating anymore.” You forced out a laugh, trying to make it better than how it really is. It’s clear to Satoru that you’re having a hard time. He could see it in your face, your eyes. Satoru remembered those times when he would do anything just to avoid looking at you and seeing how badly he broke you.

He was heartless for letting himself make you feel like that. He was stupid for letting you feel like that. 

“Thanks. But it’s alright. We’re good, we’re just…not dating anymore.” You let out a laugh, retracting your hand away as you reached for the towel to wipe your daughter’s food-stained cheek. “Megumi and Yui still play together, I mean they’re besties now, right?” Yui giggled at the mention of her friend.

As much as Satoru wants to have another chance with you, he just doesn’t think he would deserve it just like that. Also, he doesn’t think he can see you like this everyday. Now he wants to talk to Toji. If it’s because of his interactions with you then Satoru himself would volunteer to give the big guy the assurance he wants. 

It would be painful for Satoru but to see you so dull makes him want to give up his fight. If he even has some. His friends, mostly Shoko, already told him that he already lost all his chances. “You’re not a cat. You don’t get nine lives in this Satoru.” She would say and Suguru would quickly add “You used to have nine lives, actually. But you’re a dead man to her now.” It was playful but depressing talk but valid but…sad.

It was everything but playful to Satoru, no matter how much his friends tried to lighten up the delivery, it still felt like playing darts with his heart. Because he knows how much truth those words hold. He would smile and shake his head. His friends are never the ones to sugarcoat shit. 

After saying goodbye to  Y/N with his baby girl, Satoru can’t help but feel curious about your breakup. He’s almost a hundred percent sure that it’s Toji’s decision because of how you are right now. He doubts that you’d be the one to break it off. You’re a fighter, he knows that. He hates that you have to deal with these cowards of men who only know how to break.

But of course, Toji’s more deserving than him. That’s the bitter truth. Toji left for your good, while Satoru…just gave up on you back then. He will regret it for the rest of his life if he doesn’t get you back. 

Get you back. He felt like a villain, hoping that you were the first to initiate the split. That would give Satoru so much hope. Thinking about why you did it (if you did), taunts him into assuming that maybe you still have something with him. But this isn’t right. No. Satoru should be better than this. Your happiness comes first. Even if it’s not with him.

Satoru swallowed the rushing mix of emotions that fogged his mind as he drives. It felt like swallowing needles, allowing them to go straight to his cracking heart. It’s almost impossible now, huh, to get you back? Even when you’re single again, it still feels impossible. Why is he even imagining it?

Shaking his head, he successfully parked his car, clapping his hands as he looked at Yui through the rearview mirror. “Let’s go now, my heart~” He sing-songed and the toddler eagerly reached up to him. “Tomorrow we go back to Mama, alright? She’s kinda sad, isn’t she? We gotta rescue that!” Yui cheered with him, despite not understanding what her father was saying.

Satoru knows that he can’t meddle with your relationship with Toji, no matter how much it bothers him. The least he can do is try to brighten your mood. Without any ulterior motives, of course. This is a vulnerable time for you. He doesn’t think he can stomach trying to get in through those cracks in your heart because of your failed relationship. 

It’s not the right thing to do and that’s not what a good person who truly cares would do. He can only support you, but he doesn’t plan on taking advantage of this situation. 

—-------------------------------------------------

3 months later

It’s a blessing to be a mother. It’s hard too. Especially, when your daughter won’t allow you to have a break from your ex for more than three months. “Mama!” She screamed at the top of her lungs for the hundredth time that morning. “I just took your bag, let’s go.” You wished you could’ve taken a picture of her, standing as she held the door of her room open.

“You’re so big now, baby.” Her birthday’s in a few months and you feel like crying because it felt like you just gave birth to her yesterday and now she’s turning three. Time is a thief. You wonder if so much has changed with Toji’s life too. You wouldn’t be shocked if he’s got a new girlfriend. After all, Satoru only took a few weeks to find someone new when you broke up.

That fucking stings. You told yourself and if you weren’t holding your daughter’s hand and her bag you would physically clutch your chest. The thought of being so replaceable has been a constant in your mind since Satoru and Naomi. 

And if it happens with Toji again, you’d probably just close the table for love.  You drove to the park, a meeting place you chose for the kids. You don’t want to be in Toji’s house. You don’t think you can handle that yet. 

You wondered if you’d be greeted by some new lady with him, like how Satoru received you with Naomi’s head on his chest. What if they play with the kids instead and leave you out of place during the whole play date? Or what if they leave you to watch the kids while they get some snacks, taking their time to play couple while you wait?

What if— A knock on your window broke off your train of thoughts as you took in your surroundings. That’s right. You’ve been driving and now you’re at the part. And now Toji’s shading his eyes, his hand arched over his brows as he tried to see through your windows. “Gumi!” Yui squealed, kicking in her car seat as Megumi waved from the outside. 

Toji was holding him in one hand as his bag hang loosely on Toji’s shoulder. You rolled the windows down, gulping your anxiety as you thanked the heavens that none of the scenarios in your head came true. 

“You spaced out.” He chuckled a bit awkwardly as he smiled at you. There’s something new about him. Did he really glow up after leaving you? You almost frowned but you gave him a laugh, trying to think of an excuse as to why you’re sitting absentmindedly in your car a few minutes before meeting with your ex and his child.

“I was trying to remember if I locked our door.” You laughed, gathering your things as you stepped out. “Can I hold that for you?” Toji offered as you opened Yui’s door. You thanked him softly, trying your best to seem relaxed. You don’t know if you should be glad or worried that he’s being so cool.

It could be because he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or because he doesn’t really give two shits about your relationship with him that he doesn’t even feel uneasy meeting for the first time after you broke up. 

Or maybe because he’s already moved on to someone else, he just didn’t bring her with him because he’s a respectful man. You swore you heard a voice say it and it almost convinced you that it’s your brain that wants you dead. “Yui.” Megumi’s neck stretched as he looked over your shoulder for his best friend.

“Chill, man. Your long lost bestie will be free in a minute.” He still doesn’t fail to make you laugh. You put Yui down and watched the two kids adorably and messily hug. Now you’re glad that you taught them the importance of hugs. 

“It’s cute that they’re still comfortable with each other.” You commented, pulling at your clothes as you tried to distract yourself from checking your ex out. You’re thinking hard to figure out what changed with his look. Aside from his forehead showing as the wind played with his dark hair, 

“Let’s sit there, near the seesaw. They love that.” The kids were talking in a language only they understand, pointing at stuff before laughing as if it was the funniest thing they saw while to you, it looked like nothing. You would give everything to be a kid again. Just carefree and happy. But seeing your daughter makes you realize you wouldn’t have this any other way.

“How have you been?” He started as you sat down, hugging yourself as you looked ahead at the children. To be honest, you don’t know how to answer that. Do you tell him first that you miss him? Or do you tell him first that you got a clearer understanding of the holes in your relationship with him?

“I won’t deny that I missed you.” He chuckled leaning back. “But I did some reflecting.” He paused, glancing over to you, eyes traveling across your face. “A lot of reflecting actually.” He nodded, licking his lips. Right. That’s right, you thought, referring to his looks. Aside from his hair being longer, he looked…softer. You blinked away your thoughts, clearing your vision.

“I…I’m okay.” You don’t know how to tell him it could’ve been better if he was still with you. You wondered if your relationship problems would’ve been gone now if you didn’t break up. Would it have been better by now if you kept going? “I missed you, of course. But,” You laughed airily, “I’m getting better.”

You didn’t let your breakup with Toji affect you as a mother to Yui. But if you’re talking about yourself. You’re still trying. You have lived without Toji, of course, you can still keep going now. But your split felt like a crash from cloud nine. You’ve been so soaked with your happiness with him that when he left it felt like you were slowly getting drained and dry.

He walked you into a field of roses and when you returned to your old garden you realized how dull it was. Yui was your sunshine in those days under the dark clouds. She was a sunlight that went out of its way to bring a smile on your face. “It’ll get better.” You sighed, glancing at Toji and seeing the solemn look on his face. Does he feel sorry for you? Does he feel guilty for leaving so abruptly as your baby daddy did? Does he feel—

“It doesn’t feel any better for me at all.” Toji’s not one to hide the reality of his feelings from people he feels comfortable with. It melts your heart when you think about how he loosens up with you. It makes you feel special. Though, not special enough to fight for.

“It will. Soon.” You looked down. You know that it wasn’t his intention to make you feel as if you’re making him feel guilty for choosing his peace. But it still feels like it and you don’t know what to say anymore. I’m sorry? I’m sorry that you feel sorry for me? He nodded, smiling so softly. Charming, you thought. You feel sad for the people who don't get to see this. Yes, his smirk can make one feel things but this smile…

The day went by fast, Toji invited you to dinner since a restaurant was nearby but you politely declined. It’s not that you want to. It’s just that you have to. One thing that you learned from your heartbreak with Satoru is that the more that you see them, the deeper the shards cut. 

“My mom’s coming over for dinner. Maybe next time.” Your genuine smile contradicted the lie flowing out of your lips. It was so tempting when he looked like this, but you have to stand your ground. Next time. The two words reverberated inside Toji’s head and that was enough to push aside the disappointment he felt when you declined. 

“That’s alright. There’s always a next time.” It sounded as if he was reassuring himself, emphasizing that you’re fine with meeting him and Megumi again next time. This is enough for now. After all, he still has to reflect on a couple of things regarding your breakup. But everything always seems to be pointing him back to you. 

—————————

“Just call me when you’re ready to go, and I’ll pick you up.” Satoru’s words before he left you and Yui earlier started to get twisted inside Toji’s head. Now that Toji has let you go, Satoru’s just waiting for your go signal so he can pick you up again. He swallowed dryly, faking a smile when you looked back at him, laughing at whatever the kids did that he didn’t see.

Time flew by fast but that image of you leaning towards Satoru so that he could give his daughter a kiss as he said that to you has been stuck in Toji’s head all day. The kids were drinking juice with small towels around their shoulders. “I can, uh, I can just drive you home, you know? I mean, so that Satoru wouldn’t have to drive all the way here again.” He suggested, wiping off some of the water droplets in his son’s body.

“It’s alright, he’s already on his way anyway and he owes Yui a kitty cake that they didn’t get to buy last time.” You smiled at him, before asking to leave to give Yui a quick warm shower. Toji would’ve wanted to chat a bit more with you. Just spend more time with you. He couldn’t ask for so much of it now. It felt like it would be too much of an imposition for him to do so. 

After a couple of minutes, the doorbell rang and he placed Megumi on one of the rugs, reminding him to stay there so he won’t slip. He sighed, running to his gate, knowing that it would be Satoru and of course, since you’re still getting Yui ready, the polite thing to do is to let him sit and maybe, entertain your baby daddy a bit.

“Oh, come on in. She’s just getting Yui ready.” His voice was almost monotonous, the nod of his head was another way to be a bit more ‘friendly’ to the guy. “You a fan of iced tea?” Toji cleared his throat with Satoru following behind him. Megumi was still on the rug, staring off into space. Toji can’t help but laugh when Satoru waved a hand at his face.

“Yui Dad.” He looked up, waving his small hand despite the blank look on his face. “He really looks like you.” Satoru commented, “Except his hair.” Toji placed a pitcher on the counter, pouring a glass for the man, something he didn’t think he would ever do. “I’m glad you and Y/N are doing better,” Toji spoke after a couple of minutes of silence. 

“Yeah,” Satoru nodded, holding Megumi’s hand as he tried to walk towards Toji. “We’re getting more used to this co-parenting thing. Figured out it was healthier for all of us when we’re not constantly arguing about something.” Toji doesn’t know if it’s right to say it but it already came out of his mouth before he realized it.

“The both of you single made it better, eh?” He didn’t mean it to start something with Satoru again, it’s just that that is the first thing that popped up in his head when he heard him. “Yes and No.” Satoru answered before he could even back it up with something lighthearted. “Me being single, yes. Because Naomi was basically a wedge, one cause of the problems that used to arise between us. And no, because no problem arises directly from you regarding those arguments.” He shrugged, taking a sip before continuing. 

“Actually, I don’t even know why you broke up with her, if I’m going to be frank I trusted you with my family already, why did you even left her?” He’s saying a lot more now than before. Definitely a healthier man. And he seems like he’s back to his real self now. Toji might even assume he’s drunk if only you didn’t mention that he doesn’t handle liquor well.

“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, alright? I want you to love her because you truly love her, but come on, man, there’s no threat.” Yui definitely takes after her father. Very talkative, Toji thought. Inhaling, he gathered his thoughts and which aspect of what Satoru has said he should focus on, “I don’t know.” Was his short answer. 

“I mean… I was worried. I don’t know if she’s really over you. I don’t want her to keep hurting by my side.” It was quiet. Satoru didn’t speak, allowing Toji to continue. “Plus, I fear that she will forever feel like she just comes second to my wife. To be honest, I feel that with her too. With you being her first.” Toji felt surprised at his honesty. He just hopes that you won’t overhear this.

“You’re the present. I’m her past.” It felt bitter for Satoru to say, “I’m starting to accept that now. I’m just contented that I can be with my daughter and that I take care of them even from the sidelines.” 

But Satoru would forever wish it didn't have to be like that. 

“I’m not playing matchmaker. I just want what’s best for her. Even if it’s not me, Toji.” He stood up, sighing as he heard footsteps coming closer. You came in struggling to carry a barefoot, laughing little girl, a towel and her bag. “Dada!” She screamed with a smile as she tries to get away from you. “You’ll slip!” You warned her and Satoru quickly went closer to take her in his arms. 

Toji sat there for a minute more, processing the man’s words. The best for you. If he’s going to ask Satoru about it, he’d say that if he has to pick someone for Y/N, Toji will be a top candidate. Aside from the fact that he’s a good man who truly cares for her, he also easily understands your situation because he has a child of his own too.

It’s safe to say that right now, you’re the only man that Satoru feels is safe to leave his daughter and baby momma with. His past mistakes and horrible decisions put him in this place and the least that he could do to make it all up to you is support you and whatever makes you happy as long as it’s good for you and his child.

“We’ll be going now, thank you, Toji.” Only then has Toji realize that he’s been staring at the three of you now and his baby boy who’s trying to hug Yui as her father puts on her shoes. “Uh, yeah. Let me walk you guys out.” He licked his lips, blinking fast as he tried to snap himself back to reality. “Come on, Megs. After this, you take a bath, alright?” He picked him up, wrapping a towel around his body.

“Come again. Please.” Satoru laughed as the little boy waved, probably worried that it would take months for his little friend to come over again. “She’ll be back soon, bro. Chill.” That’s wild, Toji thought, He just called my son ‘bro’. Before you could even get on the other side of the car, Toji has made up his mind. “Uhm, Y/N.” You looked up at him, for some reason, eyes shining with what seemed to be…hope.

“Can we come over sometime?” Megumi’s little cheer made your smile wider, nodding at them, “Of course..” You felt like a teen, worried that you answered too quickly, “Anything for that ‘gumi smile.” You played it off cool but kept your eyes on Toji the whole time. 

You didn’t hear anything about what he and Satoru talked about. But it was nice to know that they’re starting to get along. Inside, Satoru was fixing his daughter’s things, somehow glad that he couldn’t hear whatever the of two of you were talking about because no matter how happy he is for you, he’d always break into smaller pieces each time he saw you smile and look at Toji like that.

He knows. Because you used to look at him like that. 

Albeit, crossed with pain and longing, you used to look at him with so much love. Overflowing. And then, along with the tears he caused. It felt like acid in his stomach, threatening to spill out of his mouth whenever he thought of what you went through because of him. But now you’re happy. 

He didn’t know that love would show him that some people are worth being pulverized for.  

The car door opened just as he pretended to find something inside the glove compartment and he swallowed the pang in his chest at the glow on your face. “Gumi, babye! Gumi, babye!” His child screams behind him, waving her hands back at her playmate. “You ready to go?” He asked you and you hummed, glee evident even in the small sound. 

With that, the two of you waved at Toji and Megumi, pulling out of their driveway. You smiled at the shared nods between Toji and Satoru before speeding down the road to the bakery where Satoru usually buy Yui’s cakes. Your mind kept going back to Toji. Maybe you’re being delusional but you can’t help but feel like he had to gather the courage to ask you that very last-minute question. 

He feels like a…high school crush. 

And maybe he’s being a high school crush because a week later, he shows up at your doorstep dressed like a heartthrob with a kid in oversized sunglasses and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

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[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

CAN U DO JUDE BELLINGHAM FLUFF LIKE TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF... LIKE uh having a family with him and its all sweet

Pink Dress

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Your daughter takes after you, something that Jude both hates and loves.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Husband!Jude Bellingham x Wife!you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.2k

Warnings! FLUFF, cute kid, domestic fluff, sweetness, baby fever, dilfjude, he's such a good dad.

Jude had always loved that your daughter had taken your sassy side.

After all it was the thing that made him fall in love with you.

But right now, he was at his wit's end. The spirited retorts that once charmed him now echoed through the house like tiny thunderclaps. Your daughter, standing defiantly with her hands on her hips, mirrored the very stance you used to take when you challenged him.

The same fiery determination in her eyes, the same spark that had drawn him to you so many years ago.

He took a deep breath, and he knelt down to her level. "I'm sorry babygirl, but we have to hurry." Clearly, that was not the right thing to say.

Her lips pursed in that familiar way, a mini-him staring back at him with an unyielding resolve. "But Daddy, I not wanna wear the blue dwess. I wanna wear the pink one!" she insisted, her stubborness rivaling yours.

Why did the women in his life love to go against him.

Jude glanced at the clock, knowing they were already running late. He softened his tone, trying to channel the patience you always seemed to have in abundance. "I know you do, and the pink one is lovely. But remember, mommy picked out the blue dress for picture day. We don't have time to change now."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and for a moment, his heart ached at the sight. He could never say no to his little girl. Something she knew. And used to her advantage.

He pulled her into a gentle hug, her small frame trembling slightly. "Okay, okay," he whispered, stroking her hair. "How about this? After picture day, we'll have a special Daddy-Daughter day, and you can wear your favorite pink dress then. We can go to the park, get some ice cream, whatever you want. Deal?"

Nora sniffled, considering his offer. "Pwomise?" Her tiny voice was filled with hope, and Jude could see the wavering resolve in her eyes. He smiled and wiped away her tears with his thumb. "I promise, sweetheart. Pink dress, ice cream, and the park. Just the two of us."

She nodded slowly, her lips curving into a small smile. "Otay, Daddy."

Jude stood up, lifting her effortlessly placing her on his hip before giving her a big kiss on the cheek. "Let's go show Mommy how beautiful you look in your blue dress, huh?"

Her giggle was music to his ears, and as they made their way to the bedroom.

Jude felt a wave of relief wash over him. The crisis had been averted, and his little girl was smiling again. He would kill to keep that smile on her face. Forever.

He gently pushed the door open, and there you were, laying in bed with Klara laying on your chest. Jude felt his heart swell at the sight. She was fast asleep, her tiny hand clutching your shirt. And you looked as beautiful as ever.

Even though it had only been a few days since the baby had arrived, you seemed to radiate an otherworldly glow. Just like the goddess he knew you were. God, he was a lucky bastard.

Jude tiptoed into the room, not wanting to disturb the peaceful scene. You looked up at him with tired but loving eyes, and he could see the exhaustion etched into your face. Yet, there was an unmistakable serenity there too, a contentment that mirrored his own.

"Look who's ready for picture day," he whispered, turning slightly so you could see Nora perched on his hip, now beaming in her blue dress. You smiled, amusement swimming in your eyes. You knew how much of a hellion your daughter could be and you were thankful to Jude for volunteering to tame her. The cute adorable little beast.

"Well, don't you look absolutely stunning, my little princess," you cooed softly, careful not to wake the baby. Your daughter preened at the compliment, any earlier resistance forgotten in the face of your praise.

Jude carefully set her down and she immediately ran over to you, climbing onto the bed with the kind of energy only a young child possessed. She carefully snuggled up next to you, and you wrapped an arm around her, holding both your children close.

"Ready for your big day?" you asked her, brushing a stray curl away from her face. She nodded enthusiastically, her earlier tears now just a distant memory.

"Yeah!" she chirped, her excitement bubbling over. "Daddy said after pictures we can have a Daddy-Daughter day!"

You glanced at Jude, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Did he now? That sounds like a wonderful idea." The softie. This is how it went everytime.

Jude chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged. "What can I say? She's got me wrapped around her little finger." That she did.

You laughed softly, the sound a soothing balm to his soul. "I know the feeling," you said, looking down at Klara who was still peacefully asleep. The love the both of you had for your daughters was something that sometimes scared you. The way you would do anything for them. Anything.

He watched as you gently kissed the top of Nora's head, and sighed. Jude knew then and therre that he couldn't have picked a better mom for his precious little girls. You were everything he ever wanted, ever dreamed of. You've given him everything and he vowed everyday to reciprocate that.

He loves doing life with you.

Nora snuggled closer to you, her tiny fingers playing with the edge of your shirt. "Mommy, can you come too? To the park and ice cream?"

Your eyes met Jude's, a silent conversation passing between you. You knew how much he cherished these special moments alone with Nora, needed them.

What with his career taking up a lot of his time sometimes. He had often shared his fears with you. Fears of missing out on their lives. But you were always there to reassure him.

"I think Daddy and Nora should have their special day," you said softly, smoothing down her curls. "But maybe we can all go together another time. What do you think?"

Nora seemed to ponder this for a moment before nodding. "Okay, Mommy. We can do that."

Jude smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. "It's a deal then," he said, giving you a grateful look. "And maybe tonight, after picture day and our little adventure, we can all have dinner together. Just the four of us."

You nodded, your eyes shining with love and happiness. "I'd like that very much. Now you guys better get going so you're not late. I want good pictures." You squinted playfully at the two, causing Jude to get into a soldire stance.

"Ma'am! Yes ma'am!" Jude teased, saluting with a grin. Nora giggled, mimicking his salute with an exaggerated seriousness that melted into laughter. You chuckled softly, shaking your head at their antics.

With a final glance at Klara, still peacefully asleep in your arms, Jude gently scooped up Nora and headed for the door. She squealed in delight, waving enthusiastically at you as they made their way out of the room. You waved back, your heart swelling with love for your little tribe.

You were the luckiest woman in the world.

No one could convince you otherwise.

-Bianca🌻

[skyrigel]

Grim Reaper! Simon x f!reader | tw: death

Grim Reaper! Simon who's supposed to take you away, between life and death, after and before, here and gone.

Grim Reaper! Simon who watched you all day, couldn't help the cold dread that clouded him because you were so full of life, despite the mess, you woke up and made your coffee. Choosing your clothes and saving that very expensive dress for some other time, some special day — not knowing this is the last, your most special. Instead picking on that shirt you loved for it's colour, not knowing it would end up only red.

Grim Reaper! Simon who stood helplessly when life was squashed out of you. One moment of extreme pain and then nothing at all. People screaming and pitying and murmuring, while you clutched your chest and raised above, looking around — blinking and confused, until you looked down and your pupils widened. Oh..gone.

Grim Reaper! Simon who clasped your hand as you cried and lamented, a life you hated so much and yet you loved it just the same. Glancing back at the flesh, hands outstretched as if begging you to not leave, same eyes, same face, same fucking everything — just lifeless.

Grim Reaper! Simon who held your soul as you wept and sobbed, it wasn't your fault...you were just trying to save the puppy, it wasn't — but now you were dead. No prayer would count. And these people around you, they're just watching your lifeless frame while you cry and cry.

Grim Reaper! Simon who knew how it went, one snap and you were truly gone to the other side. “T-this it it ? Is this the end ?” you sobbed more, remembering your goodbyes, did you tell you mum that you loved her, or did you tell dad his burnt toast were your favourite, did your friend knew they were so amazing and you loved them ?

Grim Reaper! Simon who could read your mind, “No. Come now.” he echoed, lifting you away from your dead body, just flesh that resembled you, all those things that made you a real person crumbled under those rubber tyre, now nothing but memories.

Grim Reaper! Simon who shaked his skeleton of a head, covered with his ghostly black hood, swaying like cloak behind him. You wouldn't stop crying, he couldn't bear that. “No, sweetheart.” He traced your jaw, letting those tears vapour in a whoosh,“Not yet. Not so soon. Not for you.”

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you back to your apartment, letting you take it all, your fingertips against smiling people trapped behind glasses, your cat purring in her cushion, notes sticked around, empty checkboxes that would never get ticked.

Grim Reaper! Simon who held above the dress you'd saved. “You would look so lovely.” he kept, ‘You always do.’ to himself, he sat as you licked the last bit of Nutella and patted your cat, oblivious to so many things.

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you to the beach because you never got time to go one, never had anyone to go with you. Now was the time and company.

Grim Reaper! Simon who sat beside you watching the last bits of rays disappearing into nothingness, letting sky turn darker and stars twinkle in it's wake.

Grim Reaper! Simon who might be smiling just a bit when you want to go for a night walk, with no fear and no worries. He's swaying behind you, while you are almost flying with new freedom, a new sense of living or dead taking over you. There was a before that you loved but there's also an after that awaits. It's okay, Simon had said. It's going to be okay.

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you on rooftop because you wanted to see the city, the whole fucking city. “How you wanted to go ?” He found himself speaking, he never did that, it's a simple affair — guide them to the other side, that's it. You rewarded him with a smile, “Like this.” You whispered, he would hear it anyway, “I wanted to be gone like this...on my own will, L-like —” You choked on your own words, “— to jump from a very tall somthing.” and that's the irony, your life was squashed out of you, no fall and no wind smashing your face and nothing like you thought.

Grim Reaper! Simon who would grant all your wishes, “Come” he said, the second time. First, he said it when he was pulling you back while your eyes were struck on those that belonged to you, the very same but truly empty — gone before it's time.

Grim Reaper! Simon who wanted you to be happy, forever if he could help it. He took your hand in his and floated to the edge, across the horizon. There's sun rising from new beginnings, “I can't die a second time.” you laughed, a soft choke in your throat. Your stomach twisted in your guts and it's shouldn't be like this. You should feel empty and whatever void meant to be, but this knot wouldn't let go.

Grim Reaper! Simon who shook his ghost of head, tilting his head affectionately to you, “No. but you can live.”

Grim Reaper! Simon who took the fall with you, in the dress you always wanted to wear, smelling like all the things you loved, your city and salt and your favourite perfume. A smile that was forever young and true. There with him, between life and death.

Please always take care. Someone somewhere loves you so much and you mean the world to them. Please remember, please know you're loved and blessed and mean so much more than you think. Xoxo.

Masterlist

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[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Three} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Daemon Targaryen x F!Reader} Request {Anon}:Hey! about kinktober can i be 18 and 27 with daemon x fem reader with ambiguous appearance, please

~ There was not enough Daemon requests and I'm devastated ~

1.9k words - Kinks: Sorta angsty??? Dom / Sub & Cockwarming...

You were pulled from a soft dream by the touch of your handmaiden, the girl's fingers grazing against your knuckles as she whispered, "Princess, you've been summoned," her voice barely above a hushed breath.

The air around you was still warm from sleep, and the thick furs and silks felt like an embrace you loathed to leave, but you knew there was only one person who would call on you this late, and he was a man not to be ignored.

So, with a reluctant groan, you pushed yourself up and slipped from the covers. You shivered as the chilled night air wrapped around your nude body, and quickly found the shift that was left out for you.

"Is he in the study?" you asked, pulling the garment over your head, before grabbing the robe that lay across the chair beside your bed.

The handmaiden nodded and said, "He was pacing when I left."

"That bad, huh?"

"I don't know, your grace, I didn't linger."

"Right, of course," you sighed, then smiled softly at her and gave her hand a gentle pat. "Go back to bed. Thank you."

"As you wish, princess," the girl said with a small curtsy, before she disappeared through the door.

You sighed again, then made your way to the room across the hall and opened the door.

It was dark, except for the light of the full moon shining through the window, and the orange glow of a single candle burning in the windowsill. Your husband was sitting behind his desk, taking a long drink from his goblet. He took one look at you and you knew exactly what he wanted, it was always the same thing when he called on you at this time of night.

You were silent as you locked the door and crossed the room, then you silently stood beside him and waited. Quiet and dutiful, just how he liked you.

He sat there for a moment, just breathing, then he grabbed your hips and pulled you down to his lap. You straddled him, and he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his goblet of wine was still clutched in his hand.

You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his temple, then asked in a soft tone, "What's wrong my love?"

"Nothing," he mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck, slamming the goblet down on the desk.

He grabbed at your shift, pulling it up so that your bottom was bare, squeezing and kneading your flesh with his large, calloused hands, then he grabbed the front of it and ripped it open, revealing your breasts to him.

You gasped, the cold air causing your nipples to pebble and ache, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as Daemon's mouth explored your chest.

His hands roamed, grabbing at your skin and your curves, leaving behind hot marks in their wake, while his mouth left sloppy wet kisses across your chest.

You rolled your hips against his, grinding your aching cunt against his cock. You thought he would be pleased with your enthusiasm, but instead, he gripped the back of your neck and pressed you close, then hissed, "Stop. Moving."

His tone made your stomach tighten, and you immediately did as he asked, stilling completely in his hold.

Daemon let out a sigh of relief, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. You stared at him, waiting for a sign of what to do, but all he did was sit there.

"Take my cock out," he said after a while, his eyes remaining shut.

"Yes, my prince," you said, then reached between your bodies and unfastened his breeches. His cock was hard and hot in your hand, and it twitched when your thumb ran across the tip.

"Sit on it."

You did as you were told, rising up and holding his cock steady, before slowly lowering yourself down on him. He groaned, letting out a sigh of relief, the sound filling you with a warmth that settled between your legs.

You sat there for a moment, adjusting to the size and girth of his cock inside of you, unsure what you were supposed to do next.

He opened his eyes, and looked at you. You could see the storm of emotions within them, the way they swirled like a maelstrom. You wished you could help calm his mind, but you knew all too well that there was nothing you could do.

He reached for his wine and drank it, before slamming it back down on the table, then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, you had lost count of how many cups he had downed, and all you wanted to do was move. Your thighs were shaking, your hands clutching at the back of his neck, and every breath was a soft, desperate whimper.

But you were afraid to move. You were afraid to breathe too loud, afraid that if you moved a muscle, he would be upset with you.

Your husband was usually a forceful man. He liked control, and he enjoyed a good rough tumble. He liked to use your body, and take pleasure in it.

But tonight, he needed something different, and that terrified you.

"Daemon, my love," you finally breathed, unable to hold it in anymore. "My thighs ache."

He didn't respond, just kept his face buried in your neck.

You sighed and tried to pull away, but he grabbed your hips, keeping you firmly in place, his grip tight enough to leave a bruise.

"Daemon," you gasped.

His hand came down on your ass, hard, the sound ringing out in the otherwise quiet room. You moaned, your hips bucking as a sharp pain coursed through your body, your cunt clenching tightly around his cock.

"No moving," he said, his voice firm and cold, then he reached for the goblet once more.

You sobbed, burying your face in his neck, feeling the hot tears running down your cheeks, your legs trembling from the strain. You had been in this position for so long, and your body was aching, but it wasn't enough, it was never enough.

You didn't know why you craved this. To be used as nothing more than a vessel for Daemon's pleasure, for his pain. But you did. You wanted him to ruin you, to tear you apart, to break you until there was nothing left but an obedient toy, there for his use and his alone.

You needed him. You loved him.

And sometimes you hated him.

He finished his wine, then tossed the goblet to the side, it fell to the floor with a clang, rolling across the stone until it was stopped by the wall.

Then he reached for you, his hand going to the back of your neck and pulling you into a deep, hungry kiss. It was like he finally noticed you, as if he was just waking up, and he devoured you with his mouth and his hands, touching and kissing you wherever he could.

His hand came down again, harder this time, and you yelped against his mouth, but the sound was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth, his hand tangled in your hair, pulling it tight, until your scalp burned and ached.

His other hand dipped in-between your legs, finding the sensitive little nub he knew just how to play, and rubbed his thumb over it in a rough, hard circle.

Your hips began to move on their own, but he tugged hard on your hair and growled, "Stay still," his breath hot and heavy against your lips, before his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, "or I'll tie you down."

You whimpered, his threat making your cunt tighten around him, and your thighs shake with the need to move. You tried to be good, tried to keep still, but it was so hard.

You didn't want to be tied down. You wanted to move, to ride his cock like a whore. To take your pleasure, and give him his.

He smiled at your struggles, your face warm and wet with tears, and continued his ministrations. His lips and teeth were rough against your skin, and he rubbed and pinched the little bundle between your legs, until your entire body was shaking.

He knew your body so well, and he played it like a musician would their instrument, knowing exactly how and where to touch you, to make you sing, until the pleasure built up inside you and finally, it broke.

You came, hard, your body writhing, his hand on your hip the only thing keeping you steady, and he watched you, his eyes glued to your face, drinking in the pleasure and pain that twisted your features.

This is what he needed, to have someone so desperate for him, and so in need of him. You needed him to fill you up, to use you, to fuck you. You needed him to hurt you and then make it all better. It felt so good for him to be the only one who could give you that. Your body, your desires, only for him.

He pulled you close, until your foreheads were pressed together, his eyes staring into yours. He drank up your cries and moans, and kissed them away, swallowing them down like sweet honey.

You clung to him, your body shaking, and he held you tight, his lips soft against yours, his hand gentle on your cheek, the other cupping your ass, his cock throbbing inside of you.

You looked at him, your gaze clouded with desire and pain, and you knew what he needed. You leaned forward and kissed him, tasting the wine on his lips, the smell of the alcohol and sex surrounding you.

He let out a low growl, and grabbed your hips, lifting you up off his cock and back down onto him, hard and fast, his cock filling you and hitting deep.

You cried out, throwing your head back, and he leaned in and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat, his teeth leaving welts on the canvas of your neck.

He fucked you like this, hard and fast, his hips slamming into yours, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, and soon the only sounds in the room were his grunts, the wet slap of flesh against flesh, and your squeals of ecstasy.

He suddenly stilled, his eyes shut tight as he spilled his seed deep inside of you. You collapsed on top of him, your breathing labored, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"My sweet wife." He whispered.

He slowly stood up, holding you close and carrying you back to your bedchambers. He placed you down, gently, and laid beside you, pulling the furs and silks over your naked bodies, tucking you into his side.

You rested your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, and closed your eyes.

"Do you wish to talk about what's troubling you?" you asked, running your fingers along his chest, tracing the lines of his scars.

"No," he said, his arm tightening around your waist. "It doesn't matter."

You sighed, "Very well."

He nodded, his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around you. He was like a storm, ever restless and chaotic, but sometimes, when the conditions are just right, the winds calm and the rain stops, and all is peaceful.

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