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andraxicated · 2 months

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Absolute Threshold

Pairing: Sylus x f! reader

Synopsis: Sylus shows you how grateful he is that you'll carry his child

a/n: i came back from the dead pt. 500 and i totally forgot how to write.

inspired by the manhwa of the same name

Sylus—this man—never fails to give your heart somersaults in a bad way. The first one was when you thought you killed him by being forced to pull the damned trigger, and you thought his blood was on your hands now. The second one was being in the presence of meetings gone wrong where you swore he would've killed everyone in that room if you weren't there. And you can't seem to find a third one because it goes on and on. Living life with Sylus has put you on edge, and sleeping with him made the anxiety grow ten times bigger.

Especially when said man's baby is growing inside you.

You pace around the room, wearing nothing but his shirt and a panty just because it's comfy. Yet you know better than to let him catch you like that because you won't be leaving the bed 'til morning. You groan, clutching the pregnancy test and hospital results in your hand, wishing they would somehow disappear or just be a prank the twins did.

The door opens to reveal Sylus, just as expected, but with blood all over his body. The stench of blood hits you, and you fight back the urge to hurl at the wrong moment. You dash to his figure and shakily approach him, not knowing what to do but to stand uselessly as his scars slowly disappear and his wounds regenerate.

"Oh, you're here," he says as if he didn't know you came.

"Sylus. What happened?" you ask, your voice hoarse as tension dissipates from your shoulders. He rolls his shoulders and heads over to the bed, plopping down with his arms behind him. He smirks as his gaze scans over your figure, and you find yourself using your arms to hide your lower body. Sylus pulls you to him as he lays you down, adjusting your positions so your back faces his chest.

“Just another day of being the leader of Onychinus,” he says as his finger plays with the band of your underwear. You prepare yourself for the onslaught of his fingers on your pussy, but he suddenly moves upward to grip your breasts under your shirt—his shirt.

He inhales and sniffs at your neck, engraving your scent in his mind as he grinds on your ass from behind. You were about to lose yourself in his touch until you remembered what you came here for.

“Sylus wait!” You sit up and fix yourself; the man behind you starts doing the same as confusion settles on his face. You turn and hold his hand, gulping down every nervousness that threatens to take over your mind. You knew you needed to spit everything out and rip it like a band aid before you spiraled with anxiety.

Sylus waits for you to speak, but it's clear that his patience is running thin. He tsks “What is it now that you have to hold my hand? Were you that lonely when I left?”

You look at him and take a deep breath, trying your best to push everything out, and say, “Sylus, I'm pregnant.”

His stare blanks with silence, and suddenly he pulls you into his arms, his long limbs covering you completely as he gently pats your head. Something about his comforting touches brings you to tears. He pulls back to wipe at your face, kissing the tears away and showing his soft side that's only for you.

“Do you want this?” He asks the important question with furrowed brows. And when you said “yes," that was the moment he allowed himself to be happy and break a small smile.

He shows his gratitude by whispering sugary words to your ears, kissing down your neck as he continues his earlier ministrations to your breast. He plays them softly in his large palms, making sure not to go too hard on your sensitive peaks. He growls as he imagines them growing throughout your pregnancy, hard on rising from the thought of your already perfect body undergoing changes. He thinks it isn't so bad after all.

“Sylus! Mmmh!” He swallows down your moans with his lips, hungrily devouring you. He feels like he can't get enough of you—a prize for all the shitty things he had to go through in this life. Even better that you came to bear the fruits of his cum releasing inside you.

He pulls away to give you a reprieve as you suck in all the air you can. Sylus’ crimson eyes were feral as he took in your pretty face. You looked like a debauched goddess, and he intended to make it a sight every day.

“Sit on my face, kitten,” he commands with a gruff voice, and you snap your head in shock. Mouth open, unable to take in what he had said. You were taking too long to act, so Sylus decided to pull you on top of him, positioning you to slide off your underwear completely and baring your beautiful cunt for him to look up to. It was so lewd compared to the things you've done, causing you to clench at nothing, and you swore his eyes gleamed dangerously if he did catch it.

“Spread your legs more,” he says, and without warning, pushes your body on him to latch his tongue on your hole, his nose catching on your clit causing you to squirm in his hold and clench on the muscle flicking inside. Sylus felt you were tense, so he had to pull away and slap your pussy, giving jolts of pleasure as his words went from one ear to another.

“Relax and let me eat your pussy. You need to get stretched open.” He continues kitten licks outside the hole, stretching it open to make way for his tongue to taste your essence.

You feel him deeply buried, his face lewdly pressed against your pussy; the feeling of putting weight on his face has you heating up in embarrassing pleasure. “No more! Nghh-stop!”

“You say that but you keep grinding your pussy to my face.” He trails sloppy kisses into your hole like the menace he is to prove a point. “It’s like you're in denial that you get off on this.”

"No, 'm not!” You whine, and Sylus just chuckles deep within your pussy, sending vibrations down your spine to which you arch. He flattens his tongue to lick two long stripes before french kissing your tight hole, pushing in two fingers as a surprise and to play with your clit. Your legs shake as you grip his hair, using his face like a toy to chase your high. His nose repeatedly bumps in you, a toe-curling addition to the pleasure building up.

You went jaw-slacked back arched as you cum on his mouth, Sylus enjoying the clean-up of the mess you made. His tongue was a little less wild as he left butterfly kisses on his favorite part of you.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand before letting you off and settling you down gently on the bed. Sylus smirks with his glistening face, shining with the juice that came out of you. He taps his crotch and raises a brow. “Do you want to suck me off?” You nod, and he pulls you in for a quick kiss, his fingers threading once through your hair like a master to his kitten. “Good girl, I knew you would say that." Then he presses the leaking cockhead to your lips, the mere action sending sparks throughout your body at how lewd your position was.

He could see your ass up trembling due to your weakening legs as you started taking him in your mouth. The stretch was quite uncomfortable due to his large size, but the delicious feeling of his heavy member was enough to keep your head going. You direct your eye upwards at Sylus while making slow strokes, trying your best to fuel the expressions he was making. He had his sight locked on you, eyebrows together in pleasure, making sure to take a mental picture of your lip circled on his cock and your ass up in the air.

'Fuck!” He groans and throws his head back, hissing as you try to take him all in and make yourself choke on his dick. Sylus wanted to push your head towards him and fuck your mouth roughly just as he used to, but he knows you’re in a delicate condition that requires less manhandling. So he resorts to light thrusts to help you take him in, making you tear up a little than full on sobbing with muffled cries on his cock.

Sylus could feel his high coming, so he pulled you away as you gasped for air and coughed. You engage in a messy kiss, spit stretching between you as he suddenly positions you above his raging member. It was red and angry, very eager to cum inside the pussy it belonged to.

“W-wait! I’m not sure-Hahhh!” You scream as his thickness penetrates your small hole before stretching out your walls. Your arms lay limp behind his shoulder as he holds your hips and starts to thrust upward to meet your spot. Your earlier wetness creates squelching sounds against his upper thigh, a reminder of the pace he set in destroying your pussy.

“B-be careful!” You whine, trying to match his pace in going down on him, but he was far too vigorous in his actions that all you can do is moan prettily and take his cock. The girth and the veins graze on your wet walls as Sylus takes in a tit from your mouth, sucking like he’d get milk from it. You couldn’t help but comply with his whims, pushing his mouth further into you as you let him indulge and switch between the two mounds. He licks the sensitive buds and sucks lightly, finishing off with butterfly kisses that have you tightening in response.

“Need to stretch you out for our baby.” He pants, pistoning his mushroom tip in a spot that makes your legs shake and your body keel over. “You can take it like a good kitten.” Sylus’ thrusts repeatedly hit your gspot, driving you to the edge every time you jolt upwards from the force. His dick slips out from the continuous ramming, and you whine, making an effort to grab the length and put it back inside before he does.

“Daddy, please movee” You moan as he breaches your entrance once more, and Sylus lets out a breathy laugh as he watches your pathetic attempt to get filled.

“You love cock that much?” He glances down at where he meets you and sees the way his dick disappears to make a bulge on your lower abdomen. His crimson eyes glow dangerously as he puts in more power in working you open, balls hitting your soft ass as you start to chase your high by synchronizing with him.

“Mhmhm! Only yours~Ah~” You slur over your words in a cockdrunk haze, trying your best to ride him despite the obvious exhaustion in your bones. You feel like passing out, but you fight to stay awake just to feel the warm seed that knocked you up in the first place. You just love Sylus’ cum too much, love how he only does it for you.

“That’s my girl. Letting me fuck her and cum inside raw just because she loves my cock,” he says in a low voice, his pace going fast as you tremble in his arms. Sylus could feel the release building up, ready to shoot his load into you.

“That’s why you got pregnant.” He whispers, grabs the back of your head softly, and exchanges a small moment of eye contact before your lips gravitate towards one another. Teeth clash against tongues, and you feel yourself squeeze against his hard shaft. A few more seconds of hitting the sweet spot, and you pull away to prolong a moan with your mouth agape.

“Hahhhh! S-so good~”

Sylus growls loudly from the clenching of your walls as you savor your orgasm. Your breathing was light, and all your muscles relaxed as you coated him in your sticky release. You just let Sylus do his thing, fucking up into you with his fat cock as your head lays on his shoulder, your mind cloudy from his nonstop onslaught. When you caught sight of his sweaty face, it was very clear that he was starting to struggle because of his impending orgasm.

Your hand suddenly went to his neck, squeezing a little just to see his face when he cums with your hand on his. Then, as his hips faltered to still, you whispered "cum" just as Sylus let out a guttural moan with his head thrown back and eyes closed. You let go of the pressure on his neck and flinched at his warm cum filling you up and dribbling down between your thighs. He thrusts softly at the last of its spurts, making sure you’re all plugged up with cum before kissing you and exchanging saliva.

Between those kisses were giggles that came from your lips, and Sylus couldn’t help but mirror the smile on your face. He spanks your ass playfully before making you look up to him. “Who told you that you could touch my neck? You’re being a very bad kitty.”

“This bad kitty has to carry a child for nine months. You’ll live if I choke you a little.” You jest before giving him a peck and resting in his arms. His hand goes to your tummy and rubs it as exhaustion lulls you to sleep.

#love and deespace x reader #love and deepspace smut #lnd sylus #lnd x reader #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus smut #sylus x reader smut #sylus x you #sylus fluff #sylus x mc #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #l&ds sylus #l&ds smut #lads sylus

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sacredsorceress · 4 days

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Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

logan masterlist | inbox | full masterlist

It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

#wolverine #logan howlett #logan #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #xmen #xmen fanfiction #deadpool and wolverine

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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months

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puppy reader, who gets annoyed if 141 smell like someone reader doesn't know and sad if she smells them on each other, knowing that this little puppy was left out of fun

Cute puppy reader who will literally try to bite Ghost's dick off because a)it will regenerate anyway and it's fun and b) because she can smell Ghost on Soap and she is jealous because she wasn't invited( needy pups are getting punished, of course, by both her lieutenant and her sergeant, but it doesn't stop her from whining like a dumb puppy. She wasn't even invited to watch them, and this is makes her extremely anxious and sad( poor little baby, she really needs to get her pussy played with, or else she will whine the whole time she is left out of fun( It's not fair, honestly, when she can smell someone else on Gaz when they are cuddling...harpy is trying to understand why his usually chill and happy pup become so sad, but you just want your favorite people to stop treating you like a dumb pet who doesn't know anything( if they are playing with someone else, you can play with them too, you have energy! Turned out that Gaz was just in the training session with some other hybrid, and the scent lingered a bit too long - still, you will bite and scratch at him, and he accepts his punishment with grace. Out of everyone, even Soap, he is the softest - always allowing his pup to run around freely. It's hard to smell anything on Price besides cigarettes, but you are still able to pick up on bitter scents of other people - and even though he doesn't sleep with anyone else, he will still get angry at you for even suggesting that. Dumb pup is going to get her butt spanked and plugged with the biggest plug he could put in you without breaking your sorry hole - but this is the only mercy you will get. If you dare to bite him out of selfish desire to mark the bear hybrid, he will put a really uncomfortable muzzle on you, making you whine and scratch on it as he bounces you on his cock( dumb pup should have know better than to question him!

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cringe--is--dead · 2 months

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𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝔻𝕠 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕊𝕚𝕔𝕜

Incl. Umemiya, Hiragi, Tsubakino, Choji, Togame

Umemiya

Having grown up in a group home, Umemiya knows how to be the best care giver ever

That being said: he’s also insanely clingy and affectionate on his worst days

He’s attentive to a T

With Kotoha’s help he’s bringing you homemade soup, full of fresh veggies from his garden

He’s making you tea and keeping water bottles near by whenever you even mention wanting a drink

Sends his four kings out to watch over while he’s with you because he refuses to leave your side until your healthy— doesn’t matter if it’s a cold or the flu

Still cuddles with you, despite you telling him he’ll get sick— he tells you his love and affection will make you feel better

Whenever your fever spikes he’s quickly getting a wet cloth, laying it on your forehead and humming a wordless tune or telling you stories softly

He’s there to wake you up whenever you have fever induced nightmares, and holds your hair back if you rush to the bathroom to be sick

If you even feel the tiniest bit insecure because you feel gross and greasy he shuts that down: by telling you:

“In sickness and in health!” “That’s— those are wedding vows?” “Ha, yeah! But think of them as…pre-engagement, pre-wedding vows now! Hey— your face is all red, did your fever spike again?”

If you’re far enough into your relationship he’ll help you bathe: his hands are gentle as he washes your hair, no wandering touches as he helps you clean your body

He’s so soft you nearly fall asleep in the water, lulled into a serene peace by his soft voice and gentle touches

He combs your hair once it’s dry enough, braiding it to keep it out of your face and wrapping you your freshly washed sheets you have no idea when he had time to clean

Overall; 11/10 to take care of you when you’re sick

Even if he does end up getting sick himself after

Hiragi

You probably got sick after he warned you to bring your coat with you or not to stay up too late let’s be real

Dad sighs and twitching eyes

But he’s buying all the best meds and electrolyte drinks

I personally believe this man knows how to cook so he’s making you homemade soup, congee and other things his mom used to make him when he was sick

Brings a type of lemon “candy” that helps with your throat, knows they work because he keeps them on him in case Kaji needs them

He stays with you, but he gives you space

1. Because he needs to make sure he doesn’t get sick— he has to take care of you firstly, and secondly he cannot let Umemeiya free of him for too long

2. Because he knows you’ll want space occasionally; to sleep, to rest, to regenerate your social battery

While you nap he’s cleaning around; washing and folding clothes, doing dishes, organizing your mail— he’s completely husband material

When you want him near he’ll have you lay your head on his lap, and he’ll run his fingers through your hair and read to you— literally any book you choose he’ll read without hesitation

He’ll be so attentive and supportive when you’re sick, and he makes sure to continue to give you vitamins even after to help you avoid being sick again

But even when you are he’ll be there again

15/10 he’s just so HUSBAND MATERIAL

Tsubakino

LOOK

if there’s one thing anyone knows about me it’s I am a Tsubaki stan first and a human second

that being said

I imagine him taking care of you being sick is, while sweet, also a bit panicky

I imagine he has this weirdly insane immune system so he’s hardly ever gotten sick, and he’s also an only child so this isn’t super familiar territory

but he tries

does so much research he might go a bit overboard

“My darling! I got cough medicine, fever reducers, cooling masks, some cough drops Hiragi suggested! I got some water bottles and Suo-chan suggested different teas— I wasn’t sure which one would be best so I got all six! Nirei-chan said to get electrolytes so I got different flavors of those! And Kotoha-chan made soup! And congee! And I can order more, in fact I have a few different soups on the way!”

he just hates seeing you feel so bad

he’s a ball of nerves around you, always checking in on you and asking what you want, what you need, what you’d like

you can’t even be annoyed he’s so sweet

he helps you bathe, much like Umemiya, he’s sweet and attentive

he brings over his own stuff too; bathbombs, shower steamers, hair masks, face masks

he can’t make the illness disappear but you’ll at least feel clean and good on the outside

he takes his time with your hair and face, and he’s basically your personal masseuse in the bath

you’re never felt so relaxed despite being as sick as a dog

even though you’re sick he’s still quick to press kisses to your cheeks and forehead, face red from fever, embarrassment, and lipstick stains now

paints your nails while you rest with a cold press on your head, tells you about the latest debacle between Umemeiya and Hiragi and Sugishita and Sakura

by a miracle he doesn’t get sick

and he stores all the leftover meds and electrolytes (there’s a lot) between your place and his so he’s prepared next time

overall: 1000000/10

realistically: 10/10 (but always 100000/10 in my eyes)

Choji

oh boy

o h b o y

let it be known you try to hide the fact you’re sick from him for as long as possible

read: you fail

he’s showing up at like 7am, waking you up and charging in

did he bring anything?

of course

he’s brought snacks

not healthy ones

you’re not hungry because you’re nauseous, so he just stores them in your fridge and comes to cuddle you

he’ll wait on your every command don’t get me wrong

want water? he’s grabbing you a glass

need to go to the bathroom? he’s helping you up and walking you there, waiting outside the door and helping you back

bored? he’ll tell you all the thoughts in his head! and there’s a lot!

hungry? he’s grabbing those snacks for you!

he’s attentive and sweet, but he definitely is spoiled by Togame so much he’s not entirely sure how to take care of a sick person

but he’s strong so he’ll just beat your illness for you!

he’ll hold you while you rest, turn your fan on when you say you’re hot, turn it off when you’re cold

he tries to braid your hair while you rest, it’s messy but he tried

he ends up getting sick before you’re even better yourself

now Togame is tasked with coming to your place and taking care of both of you

overall: 7/10

he tries he really does

but he charges in with no instructions and just love

which is great but doesn’t treat the flu

Togame

he probably has taken care of an ill choji (^) so he knows what he’s doing

the patience of a saint holy—

he comes to see you when you’re asleep, and he’s silent as he unpacks stuff from the nearby convention store

you wake up startled at him just chilling, probably drinking a ramune and reading something

he keeps his voice soft as he asks if you’re hungry or thirsty

helps you sit up as he hands you a water bottle, and if your hands are too shaky he’d holding it for you to drink out of

he won’t even let you open your mouth to apologize before he’s giving you that stupidly soft smile and telling you he’s happy to take care of you

he keeps the curtains shut so the light in your room is dim, and he brings in candles with your favorite scent so the lights don’t hurt your eyes and the scent helps you feel calmer

not much of a cook himself when it comes to specific food to help you, but he grabbed take out on the way and heats up the perfect portions whenever you’re hungry

not too much so you leave food on the plate but not too little so you’re still hungry after

the man that he is

can definitely see him massaging your hands, your arms and your shoulders cause you’re tense from feeling ill

keeps a bucket or a bag nearby in case you get sick and can’t make it to the toilet

does a little braid to keep your hair out of your face, jokes about how he learned how to braid his hair so he’d he perfect at it for you

tries to brew you tea, and either burns it or under-steeps it

you both opt for just water for the time being

doesn’t get sick, but definitely sleeps for an entire day after you’re healthy

you both do actually— a long sleep cuddled up together

overall; 13/15 i think i made myself fall more in love with him

#hajime umemiya x reader #toma hiragi x reader #tsubakino tasuku x reader #choji tomiyama x reader #togame jo x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #hiragi toma x reader #tasuku tsubakino x reader #tomiyama choji x reader #jo togame x reader

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gallifreyanhotfive · 11 months

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Things you can't convince me aren't canon

The Doctor is autistic.

The Doctor and the Master are definitely divorced.

Five is asthmatic and has some sort of peripheral nerve damage in his legs (because his regeneration almost failed).

Nine wears Fitz Kreiner's leather jacket.

Time Lords are actually eldritch but normal humans can't tell because we can only perceive three dimensions at once.

River Song makes it out of the Library somehow.

The Spy Master first met the Doctor as 'O' when he was Eleven.

Sacha Dhawan plays a character called Reverend Matthew in the audio Ghost Walk, and I like to pretend it's the Master fucking around and being manipulative and shit in disguise. It's very entertaining, especially since a woman in his employ literally calls him Master at one point.

Evelyn knitted Seven's outfit.

Two and Jamie definitely had something going on.

Ood Sigma and hallucination Amy were Ten and Eleven's Watchers, respectively.

Eight is 'like that' (if you know you know) because the anesthesia Seven got delayed regeneration long enough that some of his brain started to die from lack of oxygen, bloodflow, etc etc.

If Survival had been a Sixey episode, he would have had a VERY different reaction to local catboy Master. (I said what I said.)

I'll add more eventually, but I need to sleep now.

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darnell-la · 9 days

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𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥

pairing: the wolverine x assassin!reader

warning: Wolverine struggling to regenerate, stabbing, brutal killing, manhandling, pinning, trapped, cutting clothes off, breaking skin, rough sex, begged, hard orgasm, etc.

request: After Logan gets taken back to Japan for his old friend buddy's last goodbye, idk if you've seen that movie but you know how their interaction goes, and then the old friend dies. Basically, people start going after his granddaughter uh sorry anyway after the old friend's funeral Logan gets away with the granddaughter and heads to the safe house. Once there Logan gets to relax for a few days till more bad guys show up and try taking the granddaughter. It makes Logan angry and as he ends up fighting one of the bad guys he discovers it's a female and that's when female y/n comes in place. Maybe Logan is just too tired and overall angry he takes it out on y/n in a very aggressive nsfw fashion of course

note: this story is a bit all over the place because of how angry the Wolverine is in here. He isn’t as nice as usual. He takes what he wants, and of course, y/n’s going to take it all.

Please comment, like, reblog, request, and follow us!

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“Mariko?” Logan growled as he woke up on the couch he chose to take so the princess could take the bed. “Hey — Mariko!” Logan groans, sleeping from the well-needed nap after all he’s been through for the past few days.

“Hey?” Logan heard Mariko speak as she opened the front door. Logan quickly leaned up from the couch, remembering that there were people after her.

“Shit,” the man groaned under his breath as he got up, falling at first, but got back up and ran to the front door. She was speaking to someone who he couldn’t see.

“Alright, talk time over,” Logan said as he pulled Mariko from the door. He went to shut it until he saw who stood in front of him. A woman.

“Hi, I was just wondering if you were interested in some fruits?” The woman asked, making him look down at the covered basket she had in hand.

“Come on, Logan — We haven’t eaten a good meal in a while,” the princess spoke behind Logan. He had jumped at her voice, almost forgetting she was there. He was too focused on the woman standing before him in a white wavey dress.

“Uh- Sure, sure — Two for the lady and one for me,” Logan said as he dug into his pockets, looking down to see if he had changed on him.

As Logan locked for chained, he saw the woman open the basket. He saw the fruit, but under the few was a knife. A sharp snide that looked like it was made out of carbonadium. Something that can kill him.

“Shit- Princess, safe room-“ before he could finish as he turned around, the woman kicked open the door, making the man fall to the ground.

Mariko screamed as y/n ripped her dress off, showing her in a suit. The wavey skirt and the tight shirt that was swordproof, made Mariko’s heart pound. She knew this was the doing of her father.

Y/n jumped onto the man’s back as several other men came into the house from different angles.

Y/n quickly stuck the man in his upper shoulder, causing him to yell out in pain. She twisted in carbonadium knife, smirking at the pain he finally could feel. “You won’t be healing soon,” she said before getting off of the man to go after Mariko.

“No, no!” The man tried grabbing after the woman, but he couldn’t. The pain that went through his shoulder only angered him. This whole fucking situation angered him.

Logan growled as he struggled to get up onto his knees. It took him a while, but he finally got to his feet, almost tipping over, but he held himself together.

The man reached behind his back, struggling to find the knife until he did. The man gripped it hard before pulling it out with an animalistic yell.

“Hurry! He’s coming back!” Y/n, the woman yelled at her men as they tried breaking done the steal door Mariko was hiding behind. She was quick to run, giving Logan time to get up and active.

“Who sent you?” Logan asked, slightly knowing who it could be, but he needed to know for sure. “He’s back! Fight!” Y/n yelled, making her men turn around and attack Logan.

Y/n stayed behind, trying to cut the wires to the key, but it would take a while. She needed to cut the right ones.

The noises Logan made as he fought the men with carbonadium swords, slightly scared y/n. She told Mariko’s grandfather that she was ready, but she knew nothing about Logan.

He was an animal. An animal that has been holding anger for years, and these past few days have been bottling up inside of him.

The carbonadium wasn’t working on the man. Yes, it cut through his skin, making it sting worse than usual, but he still slightly healed. The adrenaline in his body was the danger.

“Retreat! Retreat!” One of her men said, making her turn around to see Logan rip apart the last few remaining. She jumped at the way his claws sliced one’s neck.

Logan was on one knee, in a superhero landing position as he breathed heavily, claws out and to the side as he tightened his fists.

“Shit,” y/n took off and ran towards the back door that was open after Logan looked up at her. His eyes were dark, his fangs showed, his mouth quivered and his growls were deep. She was the last one left. She needed to get out.

Y/n almost made it to the front door, hoping she could make it to the van they all came in, but she was caught and thrown back in the house.

Y/n whined as she grabbed her side, feeling pain in an instant. She was no mutant. She was a human. She’s trained almost her whole life, but she would never stand a chance against someone like the Wolverine.

“I’ll give you a chance like I gave you men. Who sent you!?” Logan asked, walking over to her as she slowly crawled backward on the floor.

“Please, spare me,” the young lady said as he held a hand out, still not willing to give up her senpai’s name. “Who the fuck sent you woman!” Logan yelled as he hovered over her.

“Logan! The fight is done, just let her go! This is not her fault!” Mariko yelled from inside the safe room. As Logan heard her pushing the codes, he ran over to the door and roped out the outside keypad, making the inside malfunction.

“Logan? Logan! Logan!” Mariko yelled, feeling his anger from inside the room. “Stay there, princess. I’ve got some business to take care of,” Logan said as he looked back at y/n.

Y/n quickly got up in pain and ran. She yelled, hoping someone would maybe hear and help her, but even if they could hear her, who would want to go against the Wolverine.

“You ain’t gettin’ out of here,” Logan lunged after the young lady until he got her, picking her up and slamming onto the hardwood table in the dining room.

Y/n yelped, trying to move and get rid of the pain, but Logan picked her up and slammed her back onto the table.

“Ow!” She cried out as he stared down at her in anger. One hand retracted his claws as he pushed her shoulder down and the other stayed out, hovering over her face.

“Don’t make me hurt you if I don’t have to, Bub. Who sent you?” The man asked as his blades slightly stuck at her neck to scare her.

Usually, he would’ve killed her but now, the way she looked at him in fear and struggled with his one hand on her shoulder, made his breathing slow down. She wasn’t alarming. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

“You were badass just a second ago. Climbing in my back and stabbing me with that carbonadium or adamantium shit,”

“Please, just- Just let me go,” y/n begged as the blades broke the skin, making tears slip from her eyes. “Why can’t you just tell me, kid. You’re risking your life for someone who doesn’t care for yours,” Logan said, feeling a bit sad for the young lady, but he couldn’t show that. At least not at this time.

“I will never give his name. I serve him with all my life,” y/n said, eyes so glossy, she could barely see Logan. “That’s a shame, princess,” Logan traced his blades down the girl's neck, making viable scratches.

The man watched the woman’s mouth part, trying to keep in the pain, but she was human. It stung like hell.

“You’ll do anything for your master? Anything?” He asked as his blade stopped in the middle of her shirt, at the top of the collar. “Anything,” she tried seeming tough, but that soon faded as the made ripped at her suit.

Y/n’s tits flashed the man, making him groan low. “No bra on a mission? What did you expect when you got here?” Logan said, making it seem like she dressed this way for him.

“W-Wolverine, please,” y/n sobbed low as his eyes trailed down the rest of her body. “Pretty girls shouldn’t be out on missions. Especially for me. Do you know what I do to those girls?” Logan asked as he slowly lifted her skirt.

Mariko had no idea what was going on from front the outside. He had destroyed the speaker on the keypad. He can tell himself he didn’t plan this, but distorting the speaker could argue against that.

“P-Please — Take her, and I’ll leave. I won’t follow,” y/n said, feeling her heart rate speed up. “But I haven’t told you what I do to pretty girls like you,” Logan said as his blade trailed down her stomach until it cut her panties.

Y/n whined as she bucked her hips, trying to get from under him, but there was no use. The man chuckles as he rips the rest of her panties off.

“I teach them a real lesson,” Logan said as he began tugging on his belt. “W-Wolverine, stop this. Spare me, I swear I won’t follow,” Y/n said as her eyes kept switching from his eyes to his crotch.

“After I’m done with you, you’ll be coming with us. You’ve fucked yourself over,” Logan said. “N-No — No, I can’t,” y/n finally began pushing at his arm and pushed her shoulder down.

Logan retracted his last claws before he reached into his jeans and pulled himself out. Y/n had stopped moving for a second, eyes widening as she scanned his length.

The man was painfully hard, cock red and slightly blue as pre cum slipped past the slit of his tip. “N-No,” y/n stuttered as she slowly began to fight again, kicking and clawing at him, but nothing was working.

“You said you’d do anything for your master. Let’s see how much you’ll do,” he said as he moved up in between her legs, making her legs part wide.

“N-No, sir!” Y/n pushed at his lower stomach as he pushed at her entrance. “C’mon, princess. Let me in,” Logan growled, hands coming to her waist to grip and pull her into him.

“S-Sir,” y/n stuttered with a whine as she threw her head back. The young lady's back arched as her hands grabbed his wrist, trying to grab onto something to help the pain she felt in her lower stomach.

He was huge, and he knew that. He was just too angry to care about it. He needed to take it out somehow, and this random assassin that was sent to kill him and take Mariko was perfect. She was perfect.

“Should’ve quit, baby. Should’ve said no to this mission,” the man began moving at a fast hard pace, watching her body jolt at his strokes.

“P-Please, stop!” Y/n cried out, feeling her orgasm near. She was going to cum by the Wolverine pounding into her. How could she? How could she do this to her people?

“You sure, Bub? You’re about to cum — I can feel it,” Logan growled as he snapped his hips faster, watching her grip his worst tightened and shake her head.

It was getting hard to hold in her moans. He used her so well, and she couldn’t lie and say she hated it. Her body said the complete opposite. She was going to gush around him, and he was going to shoot it.

“Names Logan, by the way, Bub, and I’m gonna use all my anger out on you,”

Logan pulled back and picked the girl up, throwing her over his shoulders, and made his way into the spare room he let Mariko have last night.

“L-Logan,” y/n said the man’s name, not actually knowing why. The man threw y/n on the bed, instantly hovered over her, and turned her onto her stomach.

“Please, spare-“ y/n went to beg again, embarrassed that she wanted to explode, but he ignored her as he forced his way back through her slit, stretching her at a different angle.

Y/n cried into the pillow as her hands flew back, trying to slow his thrust by placing her hands on his lower stomach.

The man was shirtless when he opened the door, and at first, y/n was thankful for that because she could stab him better, but now, she was glad that she could feel him.

She was a struggling mess, giving him a hard time, but she knew deep down she loved this. She loved being taken just like this by him. By the Wolverine.

“C’mon, baby — Take it,” Logan grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them on her back before pushing down and snapping his hips.

Y/m felt like her back was going to break. Her vision had already gone blurry and her legs had started trembling.

With no words, only moans, y/n came around Logan’s cock, soaking him and the bed. “Ah huh, ah huh,” the man groaned as one of his hands gripped her hair and pulled her head back to hear her.

“Don’t fuckin’ hide it, kid. Cry on my cock proudly. Keep sickin’ me in for your master,” Logan said with a smirk, knowing she’d feel embarrassed if he knew what she was up to.

“Assassin my ass — Look at you. Fuckin’ weak. So fuckin’ weak, you can barely talk,” Logan teased before pushing her head into the pillow she was just crying in.

“Take it, take it! Fuckin’ take me, baby,”

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

338 notes · View notes

cipher-fresh · 11 months

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💬 suffering-academy-student Follow

does anyone else wish u could regenerate but not change and not use up a regeneration. just like do a hard reboot

#i'm gonna call myself The Sufferer

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💫 constellationon-kasterborous Follow

what is it even like to not be a time lord do you like get impaled by rebar at 45 years old and just die. couldn't be me

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🚀 silvertraveller Follow

_____👶 timelordtoddler Follow

_____playing with a roentgen radioactive brick in the nursery rn

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🔉 gallifreyballifreyshmallifrey Follow

i love this website because its the only place you can say you have interfered with the natural flow of time and you won't get investigated by the CIA

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😉 winkles-wonderland Follow

who up lording they time

#no I don’t need to add any extra tags thanks I trust my audience will find it

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👦 theresponsibilityavoider Follow

I was skipping school hanging out in a clearing and some guy exited a portal from a CONFESSION DIAL 😭 and he was like “Go to the city. Find someone important. Tell them I’m back. Tell them, they know what they did. And I’m on my way. And if they ask you who I am, tell them ‘I came the long way round’” 😭😭😭 what the hell

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💬 oneofthegreathouse Follow

if you have a fetish for people being born through bodily reproductive systems KEEP IT TO YOURSELF!!!! nobody needs to see that on their dash

__♻️ callmeweaver Follow

__Ok Puriteen you need to get on my level. sexualize looms OR ELSE!!!!!

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💫 thecurator Follow

the high council of gallifrey: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “the timeless child” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw some pre-Hartnell doctors

My buddy the Master pacing: the Time Lords are lying to us

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🏠 somegrandolgallifrey Follow

I heard some kid crying himself to sleep in a cabin. COULD not be me

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♾️ thatacademygraduate Follow

Went to a museum today! I saw a lot of really cool stuff but something I couldn’t stop thinking about was this horrifically busted up Type 40 TARDIS that literally looked like it was held together with duct tape, chewed gum and prayers 😵‍💫😵‍💫 girl kill that thing I’m so sorry….

#i think it was even still alive. please put it out of its misery for the love of rassilon

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🥽 howsitgoinghowitgoes Follow

Bruh my best friend and I tried to play a prank on my brother but it went wrong and he hit his head so badly he REGENERATED i need to go into hiding

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😐 the-hybrid Follow

Who am I

#please for the love of god help me

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🔹 thetasigma Follow

Koschei and I skipped school today and went stargazing. We agreed to visit every single one together when we leave this stupid planet. I love them so much. We're going to be together forever.

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💭 siblingofkarn Follow

Why do I keep having nightmares about Gallifrey being destroyed in like 5 different ways, that could literally never happen

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🤖 pompousandstuffy Follow

I literally hate children soooo much like today some ninety year old tried to speak to me. KILL YOURSELF THIRTEEN TIMES ‼️

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👽 cheapandnastytraveltime Follow

For a Time Lord I have such a bad sense of time. if chamelon arches were real i would make myself literally any other species

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😍 starstartwinkletwinkle Follow

I have to stare into the untempered schism tomorrow. Any advice?

#doctor who #Gallifrey #fake tumblr dash #fake tumblr post #unreality #timeblr

1K notes · View notes

zarnzarn · 27 days

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The doors to Olympus are sturdy and strong, given everyone's preferences for drama and slamming said doors open and sending them cracking into the wall whenever the opportunity arises. Which is why it's a surprise when they creak open during the once-a-decade pantheon meeting; less so because no entity worth their salt would take so long to open the doors, and more so because everyone who is anyone is already there.

But if everyone is being honest with themselves- which no one is, usually- these gatherings are boring enough that the bland conversation is dropped immediately in favour of craning their necks to catch a glimpse of whatever is coming to relieve them of their boredom.

When the doors finally open however, several of the pantheon murmur in surprise.

"Odysseus," Athena whispers, wide-eyed as she pushes herself off her throne to her feet. It is him- in the king's garb he was buried in but the face he has when he reached home, hair till the shoulders and speckled with grey, face oddly blank. His feet are transparent.

"What are you doing here, sceptre?" Poseidon booms, hair the color of a stormy sea. Zeus, beside him, looks reserved, observing the ghost with something approaching curiosity- eyes flicking to the lightning scars on his daughter's face and back. "Your time has long passed, and Hades-"

"It is a temporary agreement," Odysseus says curtly, barely sparing him a glance as he approaches his patron. "Athena."

Her armour clinks as she steps forward and the gods all twitch, trading glances. Owls are silent creatures- to have her aspect so affected to make noise was... uneasy to say the least. She even holds herself different than usual, something like confused delight shining in her eyes. "How did you-"

"Did you sleep with my wife?"

The throne room is silent. Several jaws drop.

Athena straightens back up, blinking in surprise. She looks a bit shifty, some of the nymphs closest whisper to each other, which- well, almost every single god present owed some part of their existence to the mere story of Odysseus loving his wife.

Would he fight his own patron goddess over it in front of Mount Olympus, though? He certainly was unbalanced enough; Athena herself looked rather uncertain of her odds, even though-

"Are you addled in death, King of Ithaka?" Artemis drawls, looking amused. "Did you forget that your own patron is celibate? Whatever rumor you-"

"No, I-" Athena says suddenly, shifting her spear to her other hand. "I did."

Artemis chokes on her breath and several assorted divine beings gasp in shock and the rest shouting for explanations, although everyone is nearly drowned out by Aphrodite's loud, "WHAT?"

Odysseus inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe you."

"She asked-" Athena starts, only to be drowned out by the din of various beings screeching and shouting about the scandal.

"ATHENA!" Hera hisses, peacock tail fanning behind her sharply as she pushes herself up. "Explain yourself!"

Athena half-turns to face her, face creased in a frown. "Mother, I-"

"LET ME REPHRASE!" Odysseus cuts in loudly, and the shouting settles down into silence. He walks to his patron, eyes blazing. "I cannot believe," he throws his clenched fists wide as he growls the last word, "-you took Penelope to bed-" Athena surprisingly stays still as he reaches her, mouth falling open as he grabs her by the chiton to yank her down, uncaring of the gasps of horror from all around as he snarls, "-before you ever kissed me."

And then Odysseus grabs Athena by the face roughly and kisses her.

This time Aphrodite's shriek cannot be escaped by anyone.

"Aphrodite, please," Zeus says a few moments later, wincing as his throne reforms around him, stained oddly pink. Quite a few minor entities have discorporated, and the ones nearest to her are still trying to regenerate their hearing. "Control yourself."

Their eyes land back on where Athena has dropped her spear- dropped her spear, Ares in the corner seems to be having some minor hysteria over this, well warranted- and is also on the floor, still being thoroughly kissed by that insufferable, mannerless hero of hers, perched on her stomach to reach. Zeus inhales in fury, Poseidon close behind him as the shock wears off, lightning crackling around his fingers as he opens his mouth to shout- of all the indignities-

"If you two ruin this for me," Aphrodite thunders, warping in front of them and glaring. "I will make you both regret it."

Both gods visibly blanch at the threat, taken aback for one brief moment. Threats from Aphrodite are far worse than any of her more violent siblings, at the end of the day.

Zeus visibly gathers himself just as Athena's helmet clatters to the floor, and he gains a second wind immediately, eye twitching as he spreads a hand to the spectacle in the middle of the hall. "WHAT MANNER OF DISRESPECT IS THIS? TO BARGE INTO OUR MEETING AND THROW ONE OF THE OLDEST GODDESSES TO THE FLOOR LIKE A COMMON WENCH-"

"Zeus," Hera says quietly. Everyone falls silent, although it's not quite enough to stop the two tangled together on the ground. She clears her throat, which finally seems to get through to Athena, who had finally seemed to have gotten over her shock enough to reach out, hands hovering over Odysseus hesitantly. Still, at the noise she seems to remember herself, pushing herself up on an elbow and dislodging him enough to break their necking. He pouts at her, but Athena's eyes are too glazed over to notice, heaving for breath.

Hera opens her mouth to speak, crown manifesting on her brow as she steps in front of the throne, but closes it as the door rattles again.

This time, the spectre shimmers with a faint hint of scales that comes with a freshwater nymph's heritage and excited whispers starved for drama explode across the room as the Queen of Ithaka steps into the room, skirts hitched in her hand and panting as if she'd been running.

"Your Graces," She bows respectfully before entering, Spartan princess through and through, until she catches sight of her husband and Athena, the former of whom seems to have taken the opportunity to start kissing the wisdom goddess again, fingers in her curls.

"What are you doing?" She snaps, rushing over. The entire courtroom holds its breath. She slaps her husband upside the head, making him yelp and move back to shoot her a betrayed look. Athena looks even further dazed than before, cheeks red. "Argos has more manners than you! No wonder Lady Athena wanted nothing to do with you- ah, hello, darling, by the way."

"Penelope," Athena murmurs hoarsely, and the Queen of Ithaka leans down to kiss her as well.

Odysseus chuckles, then jumps with everyone else as Hera slams a hand down on the throne elegantly, cracking it to the base.

"Ah, goddess-" He says, clambering off Athena to bow.

"Silence," Hera interrupts, holding up a hand, eyes cold. "You will not say anything to me apart from an explanation. My agreement for your release from Ogygia was due to the assurance that your marriage was one of the truest I have ever witnessed, conveyed by Athena herself when bartered with all of us to let you go. Tell me, was it a ploy? Because from the disgraceful looks of it, this seems to not be the case in the slightest."

Odysseus frowns, face twisting in confusion. "Athena bartered with...?" He turns to look at his patron, who stares back, unspeaking. His eyes flicker to the lightning scar over her right eye as Penelope traces it with horrified eyes and a gentle thumb, and understanding seems to dawn.

For a moment, rage seems to fill him, glaring with a hatred towards Zeus that everyone whispered later wasn't met by the god king with anger, but a flicker of remorse- before he visibly throws it away behind Athena's old smile and bows.

"God-queen," He says formally, gracefully. Hera twitches a bit, and they'll all talk later about how odd it was to so clearly see Athena's younger mannerisms in the man, down to the curl of the letters. "My marriage to Penelope has never been false, never been broken, this I promise you." He takes Penelope's hand and squeezes it for emphasis, and she raises them as acknowledgement. "But... can you not argue that Athena has been part of our marriage all this time? From its start, where she advised me on courting and her on what to look for, to the twenty years she spent with both of us- me on the battlefield and Penelope in the court; to say nothing of how she helped raise our son and lived in our palace in the days after. And is she not so unbearably beautiful that even my Penelope couldn't wait-" He shoots a glare at her, which Penelope returns with a smile. "-when the chance was presented? How can you fault us for disgrace, after being so long apart from our wife?"

Hera raises both eyebrows at the impudence, the kind of disbelieving expression that hides a warning to tread carefully. "So you claim to be both married to Pallas Athena?"

"In every way that matters except legality," Odysseus says, fearlessly. He is dead, after all, what much can you do to a shade that they didn't already put him through when alive. He is sort of worried about Athena, though, as they both help her back to her feet, Penelope busy whispering compliments and updates and endearments in turn- she's not usually one to be quiet in face of a problem.

Hera tilts her head. "Ah, but you see. I need the legality, if I am to finally-" A helpless, excited smile pulls at her lips once, twice, before unfolding into a bright grin, peacock tails unfolding to their full wingspan. "-finally arrange for a marriage for my eldest daughter who has not once- oh finally, I can hardly believe this day has come-"

"I do not like the way you grabbed her, Sacker of Troy," Ares steps forward as Hera starts ranting half to herself, half to an equally loud assemblage of joyful entities about wedding arrangements, eyes narrowed.

Odysseus barks an incredulous, loud laugh, gesturing to Athena with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "This lady has broken- and I do not exaggerate- every single bone in my body before I saw my sixteenth year. I have punched her a hundred times in the face when she taught me how to fight. We'll survive, thanks."

"That is fair," Ares steps back, hands raised.

"What duties will you provide as spouses, Ithakan Queen?" Hestia questions, stepping forward.

"Oh, the same we did when we were living," Penelope huffs a laugh. "Keep her busy, make her laugh, be of mild frustration to her, love her well, worship her-"

"I do not. Need to know," Hestia closes her eyes and raises a hand to cut her off, stepping back. Around them, the din catches speed and volume as no further objections arise, excitement spilling into the air.

"What is happening?" Athena says faintly, looking around as if she was just waking up.

"-oh, and we can get out the decor once more! Hebe, Aphrodite, loves, do you remember where we kept the fountains-"

"-finally, a reason to celebrate! Call them all out of hiding-"

"-can't believe this is finally happening, oh sister, what songs should we-

"Why am I getting married," Athena says with much more alarm and horror. She turns to Odysseus and shakes him by the shoulder, eyes wild. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"How is this nothing? Do you have any idea the headache-"

"Athena, sweetheart, will you consider changing into that beautiful piece you made for the ceremony?"

"Oh, I'll make a deal with Hades or something, you hush!" Aphrodite leans forward and snaps, before her irritation melts back into a manic joy. "Oh, what paint shall we do?"

Creakily, she turns her head to Hera, disbelief pasted across her face. "Mother," She says slowly. "They are both dead."

Paint, Athena mouths, looking afraid for possibly the first time since her conception.

Penelope laughs and tugs on Athena's hand to make her turn, tucking dishevelled curls behind her ear. She wonders if the goddess knows how beautiful she is when she's flustered. "Take us away," She whispers. On Athena's other side, Odysseus leans against their patron with a besotted, helpless smile as he stares up at her, her helmet and spear in hand. She'd missed Athena like a limb, missed her deep laugh at night when they'd discussed the day's court, the dry jokes, the hands over hers as she weaved- but Odysseus wasn't himself without her, happy though they were in Hades' lands together, all of them.

"I'm-" Athena wavers, then looks around once more at all the excited screaming, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. Almost against her will, her eyes fall to Zeus, who is sitting silently and staring back at her. Poseidon looks like he still wants to start a fight, but clearly by his wary looks below can tell he will be heavily outnumbered by the overexcited crowd to not try, but Zeus just stares back at her, face blank of any emotion.

"We ask you formally this time," King Odysseus says, walking in front of her to take her attention away, holding onto her hand. His voice has strength in it, drawing the eyes of the murmuring crowd, but he's deaf to it as he stares up at her.

"Will you be our wife?" Queen Penelope asks, joining him, watching their beautiful patron shudder for breath she does not need as her eyes flick to one of them and then the other.

"Yes," She whispers and cheers erupt all across Mount Olympus.

"Finally!" Odysseus complains, and then pulls her down once more to kiss her, all three of them fading at the edges as one of the generous gods present there- who seems to realize that they're not very inclined to stop anytime soon- thankfully teleports them away into a nice room with a large bed.

"Finally," He whispers as he breaks apart to lay her down, cupping her face, voice heavy with the longing of a full lifetime and more. Penelope circles to the head of the bed and starts undoing Athena's braid, staring at them both lovingly.

Later the ones closest will murmur, as the silhouettes faded away, that tears had slipped from proud Pallas Athena's eyes as she placed one hand against Odysseus' cheek, trembling.

"I missed you," She will whisper back, and all three of them fade away to their own story, yet to be made.

#sorry athena ur not immune to the “when will u get married” mom speech #anyways i believe in demisexual athena amen #epic the musical #odysseus #penelope #athena #odypen #you know the eyes w spirals in anime thats athena after being kissed by her bff within an inch of her life on a regular tuesday #hera #woman is on CLOUD NINE she will literally kill anyone who gets in her way this time. the wedding is gonna be great.#aphrodite #< also going crazy shes been trying to matchmake her sister for a thousand years now #ares #< extremely conflicted. has never felt protectiveness for athena before this moment . also he wants eye bleach.#hestia #“HOW WILL THEY MAKE A HOME IN THE UNDERWORLD WHAT HEARTH-”#zeus #athena hasn't spoken to him since god games.#also tbc pen Didnt know ody and athena were Not Like That. she was convinced day one that they were a package deal.#and the two of them had literally Never considered it even though it was the norm! but once he finds out that Penelope did ody casually #just like. figures out a way to get to mount olympus from hades and storm in to plant one on her #athena x odysseus x penelope #< ig?? whats the ship name #to anyone who sees this vision. join me.#odyath #penath #odypenath

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90ekz · 8 months

Text

BLEED INTO ME!

in which… ony is your vampire boyfriend, and he tends to overfeed, even when you tell him not to. guess you have to teach him a lesson, yeah?

word count: 3.4k (WOAH?)

content. smut + plot, sub!vamp!ony, light angst, nicknames (baby, princess, ma, pa, pretty), dacryphillia, heavy discussion of wounds and injury, established relationship, n-word usage, hematolagnia & blood consumption, black!domfem!reader, overstimulation, handcuffs, light feminization, handjobs, male squirting, dry humping.

syno speaks. i really apologize for the delay on this, but i hope y’all love it! thank you for all the support :) btw, i know some people are squeamish about blood, so if that bothers you in any way you may need to avoid reading this. kk that’s all, love y’all 💋

ony annoys the fuck outta you.

he always has, ever since he came shimmying through your houses’ chimney while you’d fallen asleep on the couch watching your favorite movie. the action hadn’t even registered in your bleary mind until he was poking his sharpened talon against your cheek, silently praying that you’d wake up so he could explain his current situation.

the poachers were running a muck on the town, and they were out to kill any and every vampire they could find.

ony, specifically, had been a prime target, due to him being the only full-breed left in the country. he had been on the run for months now, and whether it was finding caves to sleep in or crashing at his boys’ houses when he could, he’d been keeping his distance between him and the enemy, until now.

he’s suddenly awoken in his cave to the sound of heavy footsteps clammering against floors of the gravel, and he recognized the sound like his own voice. he wasn’t quick enough to move out of their line of sight before he was shot in his stomach and chased through town, only getting away once he saw your house with an easy entrance.

“hey, wake the hell up.” ony complained, his jabs slowly getting softer as he took in the state of your sprawled out body.

your appearance should be the least of his worries right now, but you were so captivating. even with the droop of your plump lips, and the way your blanket was completely kicked off you, revealing only a crop top and shorts. your curves were on full display, and he felt his fingers itch with the need to touch, to mark.

as your eyes blinked open, ony hovered over your frame, drool pooling in his mouth as he patiently waited for your full awakening.

“oh, look who decided to join us.”

silence stretched over the room for an unbearable amount of time as your brain caught up to what exactly you were looking at, and you were scrambling to your feet and behind the couch. you were swift on your feet, and suddenly ony had a knife barreling toward his head that he barely dodged. the knife cemented itself into the wall, a reverberated sound bouncing against both of your ears.

“get the hell out of my house!” you gritted out, trying to keep your voice even. ony’s eyes are wide as he flicks his attention between you and the literal machete in the wall, what just happened?

“can you, uh, let me explain first?” ony presses on as he tried to ignore the way your voice was calling to him like a siren song. something about you was making his knees physically weak, but he would figure that out later when you weren’t ready to chuck another knife at him.

“explain what—you’re a random nigga in my house! how did you even get in here?!”

“the chimney, look can you just calm down—shit.” ony doubled over, as more blood started to leak from his wound. he hadn’t been fed in over a month, and was now losing his own blood. his regeneration isn’t as effective when he’s hungry, but he couldn’t risk going to some hospital to get help either.

you let a gasp slip out as you saw his hand clutches against his stomach, and you warily made your way over to his crumpling form.

“fuck, is that a bullet wound? i’ll um—let me go get some gauze, don’t move.” you rushed into a room outside of ony’s field of vision, and just as suddenly as you left, you were helping him to the couch. ony flopped down, quiet curses falling out of his mouth. you felt your cheeks heat as you removed what was left of his shirt and inspected his wound. it wasn’t too deep, and you were able to pull the bullet out with your tweezers without much effort.

the rest of the process was seamless, and ony was left relatively feeling impressed as he eyed the stained gauze wrapping his stomach. you even handed him a glass of water, and kneeled by him on the floor. you were so caring, and his stomach was in knots at your close proximity.

you kept making eyes at him like you wanted to ask something, until you finally did.

“what the hell happened to you?” your voice was much softer this time around, and ony was definitely a bigger fan of this tone. ony hooked his pointer finger into the corner of his mouth to reveal one of his pearly white fangs, his tongue lolling out involuntarily.

“poachers.”

he really did owe you a better explanation, but his head was much too fuzzy from hunger and blood loss to fully spit out that whole monologue. plus, your cheeks were now stained burgundy with shyness and another emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and you looked way too cute like that.

only now did you finally take a good look at the man before you, and you were embarrassed to realize that this was the man that had been labeled all over the news as “the last living full-breed.”

and he was bloody, shirtless, and sexy right here on your living room couch.

“y-you’re…”

“the last living full-breed vampire? yeah, something like that.” ony rolled his eyes, his hand waving in a nonchalant manner as if he wasn’t the most wanted… thing walking right now. you’d built up an impressive saved folder of videos, blog articles, and news headlines about him and his whereabouts, and you’d always felt so bad for him.

a bout of shame washed over you at your previous actions. you’d attacked him and screamed at him without even realizing that this was the same man you’d been pitying for months now, and now that he’s here, you have a strange urge to protect him.

“i, uh…i’m sorry for all the knife-throwing and stuff,” you mumble into the arm of the couch. “i didn’t realize it was you.” ony huffs, clearly amused with your response.“i did break into your house to be fair. i wouldn’t sweat it.” he shifts in his seat on the couch, still unable to fully sit up without the pain spreading. fuck; he really needs to eat soon.

comfortable silence sits in the room with the two of you, the same thing on both of your minds.

“so, what’re you gonna do now?”

“no clue. i can’t go back to my cave, and most of my homeboys live in the old city i was staying in, so i can’t go to any of them. probably just gonna skip town. again.” ony mentions sadly. he was tired of always having to run from people, and it was getting lonely without any of his friends or family around anymore. it was a constant battle, and he was tired of fighting for it.

you him to affirm him, but can’t shake the ridiculous idea you have brewing on the back of your tongue. it should be out of the question, but you wanted to protect him, and he needed somewhere to stay. what’s the worst that could happen?

ony sighed, and as he went to stand up, you grabbed his wrist firmly.

“why don’t…why don’t you just stay here?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“onyankopon, i’m not boutta play wit you all night.”

“please baby, im so hungry.” ony presses his cheek against the innard of your thigh while you diligently finish on the outline of your english literature essay and pouts.

fuck you and your dedication to a masters degree, hmph.

he’d been teasing you for hours now so you could feed him, but you wouldn’t take the bait. you just roll your eyes in response as he grips onto the fat of your thigh, licking and sucking at the bite mark from 2 days ago that hadn't faded all the way yet.

this only spurred ony further, his instincts just telling him to ruin your thighs for any one else, to just drain you of everything you had.

so he did.

“o-ony! what did i just say?!” your thigh trembles against his lips as he digs his fangs in, his eyes low and cloudy from your taste. this, this right here, was his personal heaven—desperate whines slipping from your lips, your fingers gripping his hair, your sweet stream hitting his tongue as he sloppily drinks you alive.

ony groaned deep in his chest as his pants began to feel far too tight all of the sudden. this happens often, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. it isn’t uncommon for him to come completely undone just by feeling your sweetness flow down his throat and pool into his stomach. your blood was his weakness; it made him stronger, faster, and healthier than he’d ever felt or been, and you protected him.

you the first—and the only—to not cast him out, and for that reason, he fell deep for you. deeper than he ever thought possible.

and even now, ony craved more of you.

you shakily pressed three taps to the side of his biceps, your sign that you needed him to stop. he whined loudly, but pulled away nonetheless. he knows that restraint is very important when it comes to this, but he’s still so hungry. you feel your cheeks heat up as you brush a thumb of his now trembling lips, and take in just how wrecked he looks.

his eyes are watering tinted and watery, and his hair was ruffled from the way you’d pulled on it. ony was a complete mess of himself, and you felt your pride swell at how easily your blood can do that to him.

“mmm, fuck ma, tastes so fucking good—‘m so hard fr’m it…”

you smile down at him, loving how quickly he fell under your spell. ony’s your obsession, but he had disobeyed you, and you couldn’t let that slide. as much as you wanted to just give into him and let him take what he needs from you, you had to remind him who was boss.

“uh huh.” you shrugged, simply going back to your paper. you wanted to make him even more needy than he already was.

“‘fuck you mean, uh huh? make me nut already.” ony licks over the freshly punctured bite as a little blood rushes out. he expects you to do something, anything in response, but you just huff and continue to work on your paper. you’re basically done with it already, but you choose to add little details just so he gets irritated, and boy is it working. ony was absolutely itching to just break that stupid laptop so you'd pay attention to him, but it was all in vain.

no matter the amount of kissing, licking or teasing he did, your resolve didn't crack one bit under the pressure of his touch, and that in itself made ony's blood run cold. he just wanted you to look at him, and his cock was throbbing even without your attention.

“don’t act like you ain’t just drink a whole pint outta me even when i said wait. you not gettin’ shit else.” you wave him off with a simple signal of your hand, and his stomach drops. not only were you ignoring him, you were shooing him.

ony raises to his feet and nuzzles his face into your neck, positively whiny now. he undid the button of his pants and you gasped as his cock sprung free. of course the freaky nigga wasn’t wearing any drawls, he strange like that.

“ony, put some damn drawls on.”

“baby please, ‘s literally throbbing. ‘can’t take it.”

you found yourself holding back a smile as he peppers kisses along your face and neck, and you’re trying not to giggle. your restraint is slowly slipping, and you figured that you could indulge him just a little. you meet him halfway, his tongue slipping into your mouth easily. it was just how you liked it. ony had a way with kissing—his fangs usually came as a bit of a roadblock, but you two found ways around it. you tug the back of his head toward you, and he’s stumbling down to your height.

you smile, and ony feels himself melting once more. you could tell that he was getting needier, the glint in his eyes giving away how ready he was to be ruined by you.

“you need it bad, pa?”

“fuck, so bad.” he gasped into your mouth, his fang nipping your lip and watching a bit of blood bead at the tip of it. he eagerly licked it up, and you could feel your own arousal building. your gray panties did nothing to hide the wet spot growing in your core, but you had bigger things to worry about.

you wrapped a manicured hand around ony’s wrist, pulling him to the bedroom. he chuckled deep in his chest as he trailed behind you like your personal mutt, and you couldn’t help but smile. you loved when he got like this.

as soon as you entered the room, ony blinked and he was suddenly cuffed to your king sized bed, the silk of the sheets rubbing up against his skin. he already felt overwhelmed, and was pouty about not being able to touch you, but he had to remember that this was his punishment, and he wanted to be good for you. he was completely naked and the cold air of the room barely registered to him as your clothed pussy rutted against his bare cock.

it was like torture, but he knows that’s the point.

“c-cmon ma, you can go harder,” ony sighed, gesturing his head toward your matching bra and panties. you ground your pussy down against him harder, wanton moans falling from your glossed lips. ony cursed under his breath as he watched you stimulate yourself on his cock. your nails dug into his waist as you moved, arousal clear on your face. “is fat ma wet for me yet?”

it was a ridiculous question, really. he already knew the answer, and you did too. squelching noises filled the room as your sticky underwear made friction against his cock, and that was answer enough, but ony wanted to hear you admit it. you weren’t that vocal in bed (at least not with words), but it was always ony’s goal to make you.

“mmhm, she’s so wet f’you pa.”

“oh fuck.” ony feels his hips jerk up involuntarily as you talk dirty to him, he loves that nasty shit. he can’t figure out if it’s because you’re kinda mad at him or something else, but you were so responsive today and he needed to be inside you now. just the simple act of watching you climb the ladder to your climax was enough to have him panting and moaning along with you.

your head drops backward as you get closer to that sweet release, and ony is falling in love all over again. you look perfect like this, drooling over his cock rubbing between your folds without even properly touching you. your hand rubs under his chin as you force him to look at you, and he hopes he isn’t blushing.

“ony—fuck! ‘m cummin!” the coil in your stomach snaps, and ony watches in awe as your panties get completely ruined. his lap is sticky from the mix of his own pre and your juices, and he whines as his fangs start to protrude from arousal. you smile and let your thumb trail over his teeth and tongue, and he’s struggling against the cuffs.

there’s so many thing ony wants to do to you right now—but he wants to touch you more than anything. run his fingers up the indent of your wide hips, choke you, rub your oversensitive pussy, fuck, and he really wants to bite you. he wasn’t even that hungry, but there was an ache under his skin to mark you and make you bleed, and watch it all drip out.

just the thought was enough to have a spurts of cum shooting onto his stomach, and you let out a little coo at his twitching stomach as you take the opportunity to begin stimulating him, not even caring if he was too sensitive. you ran your fingers over the head of his cock, pay extra attention to the tip just the way that makes him fall apart.

“w-wait!”

“for what? you were just begging me to make you nut earlier, weren’t you?” you smirk as he bucks against your hand. when ony gets sensitive, his voice will pitch up and it’s the sexiest thing in the world to you. he’s always the neediest after he feeds, and it’s so cute. your eyes landed on the lube sitting on your nightstand, and you took the opportunity to squirt a few drops onto your hand. it was almost too slippery for you to keep your pace, but the added moisture made it easier to stimulate the most sensitive parts of him.

“shit, it’s so wet.”

“yeah? wetter than me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“uh uh, ‘s nothing wetter than you mama—oh shit,” ony’s mouth dropped open as your finger passed over his slit once more, and he was spilling into your hand with a groan. there was more of it this time, and his hands tugged at the handcuffs as you continued to work him through his second orgasm. you were almost afraid that he was going to break them with his pure strength, but you just let him struggle.

you’d seen him break many things in your shared house. door handles, alarm clocks, your counter, (don’t ask about that one) so you wouldn’t be shocked if he tried to break his restraints, but you knew he loved them too much. “baby—can’t take anymore, fucking hurts!” ony trembles, his legs bucking under you as you stroke his harder. both of your hands were working on his cock now, and his lip was bleeding from gnawing on it too much. a few stray tears even started to trail down his face.

“cmon princess, you can give me one more,” you kiss along ony’s neck and chest, and smile as you feel his breath stutter under your touch.

“ma, w-wait! ‘m serious, it feels weird—shitshitshit—”

before you could ask what he meant, ony’s orgasm was slamming into him and a clear stream of liquid was shooting out of his cock in uneven spurts. each shot was shorter than the first, but you were taken aback nonetheless. he’d never done anything like that before, at least not that you’ve ever seen, but you could feel arousal pooling in your belly again as he writhed under you. you finally released his cock as it softened against his stomach, and room was developed in silence apart from the heaving breathing of both of you.

you gave him a wet kiss on his cheek and began undoing his cuffs, his look of embarrassment not going unnoticed. he rubbed his wrists together, inevitably proud of the marks you’d left on him. “onya.” you pressed your chest to his, but he wouldn’t look at you. you figured he was embarrassed about what had just happened, even if you didn’t know exactly what that was.

“hmm?”

“you gonna look at me or just do that blushing school girl shit all night?” that made him smack his lips and finally let his eyes meet yours. you held his jaw with your hand, stroking right where he was starting to grow some hair finally. it was a shame, ony really had no idea how pretty he was, even with his eyes streaked with tears, swollen lips, and marks left all along his neck and chest. his hands finally grasped your waist, eventually sliding down to paw at your doughy ass.

“you’re ruining my street cred, fat butt. out here makin me squirt and shit.”

“what street cred, nigga? you from the woods!” you laughed against his chest, and he felt his heart swell. he lifted your chin up to look at him, and your little smile made him remember that everything would be okay as long as he had you. you’d saved him, taken him away from a dangerous life, and he couldn’t find any way good enough to properly thank you.

your eyes twinkled and you closed the distance between the two of you. the kiss was slow and ardent, and you wanted to stay like this forever.

“you did so good, ony. ‘so proud of you, baby.”

“if you were really proud, you’d feed me some more—”

“mmkay, don’t push ya luck.”

special tag 444 my baby <3 @hoesluvshanti

#onyankopon #onyankopon x you #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x y/n #onyankopon smut #onyankopon snk #aot onyankopon #ony x y/n #ony x you #ony x reader #ony x black reader #ony aot #attack on titan smut #aot smut #syno’s picks 💌#this is freaky woah

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rambling-at-midnight · 1 month

Text

Second Chances (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne & Reader

Summary: Your and Jason’s relationship gets off to a rocky start in that, well... it doesn't have a chance to start, because the whole universe is conspiring against Jason. Everything comes to a head when a particle collider in STAR Labs malfunctions.

Word count: 5.8k

Six days after Jason discovered your regeneration abilities finds him waiting at a coffee shop at 8:53 a.m. He anxiously checks his watch again. You agreed to meet at 9, which really means you’ll be there by 9:10. He didn’t want to drink his coffee too quickly (how long did coffee dates last? He looked it up online and the results were inconclusive) so he drank a cup at home before leaving to sate the caffeine addiction every vigilante in Gotham suffered from.

It hadn’t made him more alert. Just more jittery.

Jason’s knee jogs beneath the table. It felt too high school prom to ask what you planned on wearing beforehand, so he used his best judgment (Damian would say Jason’s judgment was never good, but what did Damian know) and wore his only pair of jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. He knows a suit is too formal for a coffee date, and his usual sweats or gymwear is too casual. You’ve seen him in all kinds of clothing, so his appearance barely even matters, but at this point he’s going to sweat through the t-shirt before you even get here.

Instead of fiddling with his clothes, Jason combs his bangs back again.

As he walked through the door, Jason’s stomach had flipped like it was freefalling. A hundred little thoughts occurred to him, like, What if the shop’s closed today or What if this is the only coffee shop in Gotham that requires formalwear?

All his fears were unfounded. In the corner, a hipster wearing a fedora sips on his iced macchiato. Two tables down is a gaggle of GCU students that look like they’re cramming for finals. No one even looked over when he sat down to reserve this table for the two of you. It’s right next to the big ornamental bookshelf in the back of the shop, so hopefully you two will have a little more privacy.

Everything should be fine.

Everything is fine.

Jason checks his watch again: 9 a.m. sharp.

Shit. Should he order you a coffee before you get here? Is that presumptuous? Jason knows your usual order, but what if you have a different one here? What if you’re running even later than normal and by the time you get here all the ice is melted and you drink sad, watery coffee to make him feel better?

He should order your drink. Or maybe he should let you order your drink, and he should buy your pastry. Jason stands, then checks his phone to see if you’ve texted. You haven’t.

There’s no line, so he has no time to ponder the decision. When the barista asks what he wants, Jason panics and orders two drinks and two pastries. He saw something on the internet the other day about how women don’t like that anymore because then they feel obligated to stay at the date, but you know that he won’t pressure you, right? Like, sure, he’s never been in a relationship before, and Jason’s pretty sure he’s been in love with you since before he died, and he also wouldn’t be mad if you moved into his apartment tomorrow and never left, but he doesn’t have any expectations for today.

He thinks you two are compatible. Jason hopes so.

He checks his watch again: 9:04. A terrible thought occurs to him. What if you sleep through your alarm and never show up?

At 9:07, Jason’s order is ready, and when he turns around with two drinks and a bag of pastries in his hands, someone says, “Hi,” at his elbow.

Jason is a highly trained vigilante. The sight of him makes criminals crap their pants. He’s mastered over twenty styles of combat.

Jason jumps and drops the coffees.

Because you’re also a highly trained vigilante, you catch them without a drop spilling. “Hi, Jay,” you say again, eyes crinkling with your smile. You look… nice. More than nice. Just like you’ve seen Jason dressed any way, he’s seen you wear anything, and you never look anything less than perfect. But he appreciates that you put in the effort today.

Jason swallows. “H—” His voice cracks. “Hey, Y/N.” He cringes internally. So smooth.

You check the labels on both drinks and tape a sip of the one for you. “Thanks for ordering. Sorry I was late. Wanna sit down?”

“Yeah, sure,” says Jason. He sits in the chair across from you, then feels awkward with his hands. Should he put them in his lap? Keep them in sight?

You, on the other hand, seem completely at ease. Your eyes flick over him as you take another sip of coffee. Jason’s whole body flushes at your examination. He busies himself with his drink.

After about thirty full seconds of silent coffee drinking, you tilt your head and ask, “So how have you been?”

“Good,” Jason says. “I’ve been—good. You know. Recovering.” Internally, he curses his twisted tongue. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” you reply. Take another sip of coffee. Maybe you’re just as nervous as he is.

Jason nods. “That’s good.”

After another brief silence, you sigh and lean forward. Your eyes sparkle, like you’re trying to share a secret just between the two of you. “This is awkward, isn't it?”

Oh, God. You’re about to tell Jason that you two are better off as friends. “I mean, first dates are supposed to be a little awkward, aren’t they?”

“Well, yes, but because you’re essentially meeting a stranger. We’re not strangers, though. I know basically everything about you, and you know all about me.”

“Oh.” The thought of meeting up with a stranger to establish a relationship doesn’t appeal to Jason, honestly. He doesn’t think he could ever love someone he didn’t know. He doesn’t think he could love anyone more than you.

You cover your mouth with one hand. “Holy shit. I totally forgot. This is your first ever date, isn’t it?”

Jason feels his cheeks flush scarlet. “Well, technically, but—”

“Yeah, hanging out with Janie Morris in the library in seventh grade doesn’t count.” You wave your hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m totally ruining your first first date.”

“I wouldn’t call this ruined,” says Jason. He asks hesitantly, “Would… would you?”

You smile sweetly. “No. I’ve just never gone on a date with someone I liked this much. I’m a little nervous.”

Jason’s stomach flips. He opens his mouth to say something, but the sound of gagging cuts him off.

Damian and his friend, the youngest Kent kid, stand in line for coffee behind an absolute dickhead wearing a Blüdhaven police officer uniform. Dickhead has his back turned to you, ordering for the ungrateful kids, and Damian’s lip is curled while Jon Kent has his tongue out and finger pointed at his mouth, pretending to retch.

“What are you doing here?” you and Jason ask at the same time, but with vastly different tones.

As soon as he pays, Dickhead turns around and grins brightly. “Hey, guys! So you’re the reason Dami insisted on getting coffee before school.”

“Did Alfred give permission for that?” you ask.

Jon shoves his hands in his pockets and whistles. Damian suddenly finds the ceiling very intriguing.

Jason checks his watch. “He’s going to be late,” he says pointedly.

Dick shrugs. “That’s okay. I was late almost every day to Gotham Academy.”

“Yes, because you were a teenage delinquent. Those of us that actually care about our academics—”

As Jason continues to argue with Dick, Damian turns to you and says plainly, “You could do so much better, Y/N.”

“Come here, Dami.” You beckon him forward, and he sidles over reluctantly. You rub at his cheek with your sleeve. Gently, quietly, so he isn’t embarrassed, you chide, “That’s not a nice way to talk about your brother.”

Damian scowls. “He is not—”

Suddenly, the cash register topples over, pushed out of the way by Kite Man’s expanding kite.

You shove the kids behind you. Jason shoves you behind him. Dick shoves all of you behind himself.

Kite Man shouts at the underpaid barista, “What do you mean no one ordered my special drink this week?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the barista says. “Nobody wants green raspberry lattes.”

“Green raspberry?” Jason asks in disbelief. “Does that even exist?”

Kite Man whirls around. “Yes, it does, and it’s fabulous!” He stands in front of the door and shouts, “Nobody leaves until you all have tried my signature drink!”

Well, of all Gotham’s rogues, Kite Man is relatively harmless. It’s probably easier to just try the drinks and tell him that it tastes good instead of fighting.

Judging by the look on your and Dick’s faces—mutual exasperation—you’re all on the same page.

Unfortunately, the hipster in the corner doesn’t agree. He throws his fedora on the ground and raises his fist in the air. Presumably he has something motivational to say about nonconformity or whatever they care about nowadays. Unfortunately, the shop’s glass windows shatter, and four men with Penguin masks and large guns enter.

“Hey!” Kite Man complains. “I was in the middle of holding these people hostage!”

A squat figure waddles into view. “Fly away now, little birdie, or you’ll find yourself between my minions and a hard place.”

Kite Man shakes his head. “Just because you buy into your bird theme doesn’t mean we all have—”

One of the goons cocks his gun.

“Fine,” he huffs, “I’m going. But I’m telling everyone that you stole my heist.”

Cobblepot rolls his eyes. “You do that.”

Clothes rustle behind Jason, and when he glances over his shoulder, your date clothes have been replaced by your Ghoul costume. How did you even do that?

The Ghoul mask has no visible eyes, but Jason sometimes thinks he can see yours through it. “Get down.”

“Ghoul—”

“All right!” Cobblepot shouts. “Everyone, hands up and wallets out. As long as you’re smart birdies, I’ll let you all fly the coop.”

“Speaking of flying, has anyone here ever seen a flying idiot before?”

Cobblepot pauses. Everyone slowly looks up, and up, until they see you perched on top of the ornamental bookshelf.

“They’re about to,” growls one of the goons. He raises the barrel of his gun, but you’re already jumping to avoid the spray of bullets, feet out and aimed right for Cobblepot’s middle.

The force of your jump sends him across the shop. You land much more gracefully, put your hands on your hips, and say happily, “Now everyone has.”

The goons open fire.

Jason flips the table up, then crouches behind it. He pulls Damian down and curls around his soft human body. The Kryptonian kid will be fine. In fact, he’s in front of Dick, doing his best to use his invulnerable skin to deflect any bullets that fly in their direction.

Jason’s teeth grind. He hadn’t brought his helmet because he’s an idiot. There are a couple knives tucked into his left boot, and one handgun hidden in his right, but bullets spew so heavily over their heads that he doesn’t think he can join the fight without his armor.

Bodies hit bodies and people grunt. A man grunts, and you cry out. You grunt, and one of the men cries out.

Dickhead finally does his job. He twists around, face twisted into a snarl, and tackles someone out of sight.

“It’s Signal!” one of the goons screams.

Jason squeezes his eyes shut and covers Damian’s when the force of the sun lights up the room. Judging by a couple screams, the goons weren’t so smart.

When Jason straightens up, two of the goons roll around on the ground, clutching their faces and screaming about going blind. Dick has the other two handcuffed, and Signal has Cobblepot pinned.

Where are you?

Jason scans the entire shop, but he doesn’t see you.

“Todd!” Damian tugs his hand. “This way.”

Jason lets the kid steer him through the shop and out the back door. After a second, he realizes that the kid is following a trail of blood.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You’re in the alley behind the coffee shop, wedged between two dumpsters. Judging by the smear of blood in front of the one meant for recycling, you collapsed in front of it, then dragged yourself between the two to hide. Blood stains your pale suit from the trail of bullets in your stomach. One of the goons managed to hit you with at least seven. They’re all in a straight line across, too, and Jason would admire the marksmanship if it didn’t mean you’re bleeding out in the middle of an alley.

You rip the fabric of your suit until the torn skin is visible. Then you reach into one wound with your bare fingers. Sharp, pained gasps escape your mouth, sounds that would be screams had you more strength.

You pull out one bullet. It rolls away underneath the dumpster.

Jason drops to his knees. As much as he knows, intellectually, that you won’t die, it’s something else entirely to watch you bleed out. “Ghoul?”

Your helmet lolls. You cough, and red stains your mask from the inside out. “Hey, Jace. Sorry. Give me a sec.”

Damian pushes past Jason. You manually push your legs out of the way so he can crouch next to you, ignoring the puddle of blood growing around his shoes. They’re black, so the stains won’t be visible.

“Hey, bud,” you say weakly. “You okay?”

Damian nods. “I am fine.”

“Fucking Gotham,” you mutter. “Not even nine-thirty…”

Someone gasps behind Jason. He whirls around, ready to defend you when you’re unable to.

Dickhead has one hand over his mouth and another over Jon’s eyes, even though the alien can probably see right through his fingers. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“S’okay,” you say. Try to give them all a thumbs-up. “They nicked my spine, actually, so I can’t feel anything.” You cough again, make a choking sound, and go limp.

Jason feels it when you die. His heart twinges, and everything in his vision goes half a shade grayer. There’s less color when you aren’t in the world.

“Oh, my God.” Dick pulls on his hair. “Oh, my God, they’re dead.”

Jason tilts his head. “You don’t know?” He looks at Damian. “He doesn’t know?”

“I don’t know what?”

“Ghoul’s healing abilities are more advanced than we were led to believe,” Damian says briskly. He pulls tweezers out of somewhere and roots around in your wounds, extracting each small bullet with expert precision.

“Dami, stop that,” Dick says. He pulls out his phone. “We need to call someone. Jason, you stop Damian—”

“He has to remove the bullets before they can heal around them,” Jason says.

Dick stops dialing whatever number he’d thought of. He stares at Jason. “What? Jay, Ghoul’s—”

“Dead.” Jason’s mouth is sticky around the word. “Yeah, I know. But not for long.”

“Whoa,” breathes Jon. “I can see them healing.”

“Okay, someone had better explain to me what’s going on right now.”

Jason opens his mouth to, but then you suck in a deep breath and sit up, patting your stomach to check that you’re intact again.

And. Well. That pretty much explains it all.

You and Jason try to plan a makeup first date four days after, just a quick lunch on your work break, but that’s interrupted by a last-minute order, and you cancel when Jason’s already outside the building with flowers in hand. Then you stop by Jason’s apartment for a bookshop trip, but find him passed out on the ground from several stab wounds, and ‘patching Jason’s wounds and ordering takeout’ doesn’t quite count as a first date. Every time Jason visits, Damian is already there with a smug smile to belittle everything he says. Your relationship deserves a proper first date, with nice clothes and the right setting, and he can’t do that simple thing for you.

Two weeks go by, and Jason still can’t take you out on a proper date. The whole universe, and especially Damian Wayne, are conspiring against him.

But tonight will be the night. Tonight, Jason set up a (fake, he doesn’t want to set the whole building on fire) candlelit dinner in his apartment. Tim has been thoroughly bribed to keep Damian busy no matter what, Cass and Babs are handling Crime Alley, and Nightwing is patrolling your usual stomping grounds. Bruce accepted all this as measures to keep Gotham nightlife on its toes, so Jason doesn’t expect any issues from him.

Tonight, nothing will go wrong.

Only two minutes after the arranged meet time, you knock on his front door, and Jason trips in his haste to answer it. He almost brings down the entire table, but his hand narrowly misses hitting the edge. Jason catches himself against the wall and wrenches the door open.

“Hey, Jay,” you beam. You’re dressed somewhat nice, not that Jason’s complaining, but now he feels overdressed in his button down. At least his feet are bare. Speaking of, where are his socks?

“Hey. How are you doing?”

“I’m good, I—”

You stop short at the sight of the dinner. Jason swallows. Is it too fancy?

Then you snort.

Jason’s chest hurts.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “Just—I didn’t think you were the kind of guy to celebrate every milestone.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean, this is our two-week anniversary, right?” You step further into the room and shed your jacket. “It’s sweet, Jay, really, but it’s really not necessary. Between the two of us, I’ll probably forget our one-year anniversary, so at least you’re good with dates.”

“Hang on,” Jason interrupts. “What do you mean, it’s our two-week anniversary?”

“Um, yeah?” You give him a weird look. “It’s been two weeks since we started dating. Or did I get the dates wrong?”

“We’re dating?” Jason squeaks.

You squint, open your mouth, and check the date on your phone. You close your mouth and say hesitantly, “Aren’t we?”

“You never told me that!”

“I didn’t realize it needed to be said!”

Jason splutters. Of course it needed to be said! “I never asked you to be my partner!”

“Well, duh, but you asked me out and brought flowers to my work.” You put a hand on your hip and pop it out. “I thought we would work out the details later. Look, am I wrong? Did I interpret this all wrong?”

Jason could rip his own hair out. “I’ve been trying to take you on one good date this whole time!”

Your face is blank for a while. Then you cover your mouth too late to hide your snort. “Sorry, sorry.” Your hands flap in the air, then you give him an apologetic look and set them straight at your side. “I’m being serious. Just, hon, what about the other dates weren’t good?”

Jason bluescreens at the nickname. He’s not sure how long he stares at you, but once his brain reboots and he realizes he’s standing like a creep, he wipes his chin to make sure there’s no drool on it, then says, “I didn’t even say anything to you when I dropped off the flowers!”

“Yes, I was on call, but I appreciated the gesture.”

“Then that other time, I nearly bled out and stained your clothes with my blood.”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip. “That was kind of stressful, but you weren’t in any real danger of bleeding out. I would have freaked out a lot more if that was the case. Besides, I like taking care of you.”

You have got to stop saying cute shit like that, because Jason’s whole face heats up like a tomato and he can’t muster up any real words. What is it about you that turns him into such an idiot?

“Every time I go to your place, Damian’s there.”

“Damian is literally always at my apartment. I’m afraid that you’ll see even more of your brother if you really start dating me. Since we haven’t been already.”

Jason sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as you sidle closer and grab his other hand. Your fingers intertwine with his. “I guess that was kind of stupid of me, huh?”

You shrug. “Not stupid. A little silly. But still cute.” You bounce on your toes and give Jason a look, and all he can think is Oh my God.

Because this is it.

He might have read everything else wrong, but Jason is pretty damn sure that you want him to kiss you for the first time. He might be awful, might be the worst goddamn person you’ve ever kissed, but he’s willing to practice until he’s the best.

Jason’s neck cranes. He leans down and you lean up, eyes fluttering shut, and…

Your phone rings.

Everything pauses. Your eyes open, and a crinkle appears between your brows. “I should take this.” You silence the sound, then look over the electronic screen. Jason doesn’t peek, although his Bat-paranoia is begging for him to.

“Isn’t your ringer always off?”

“Yeah, it’s, um… it’s an alarm,” you say.

You’re a terrible liar.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” You smile, but this time it looks forced. “I’ll see you later, Jay.” Instead of trying for a kiss again, you trap his arms to his side in a bear hug, then dart out the door.

Jason sticks his head into the hallway and shouts, “Are we still getting coffee tomorrow?” That was his backup plan for if something fucked up this attempt at a first date.

And something did.

You’re already gone.

He goes to your weekly coffee spot anyway in the vain hope you’ll show up. Nine o’clock passes, then nine-thirty, then ten.

After two hours of waiting, Jason has to concede that you’re not showing up.

The moment he stands, someone clears their throat, and when he looks back, Damian is in the chair across from him.

“Do you ever go to school?”

“At approximately nine-forty last evening,” started the brat, but Jason cut him off.

“Not interested in whatever tantrum you’re pitching now.”

“Sit down, Todd.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I know where Y/N is.”

Jason sits down.

Damian clears his throat again. “At approximately nine-forty last evening, Barry Allen sent a distress signal to the Justice League. Batman went to Star City to investigate, and he took Ghoul with him.”

“Why would he do that?”

“How should I know, you insufferable hooligan?”

Seriously. Victorian child. It was honestly ridiculous.

Damian lost a bit of confidence. “I am…” He bit his lip. “Worried.”

“Why?”

“I have not heard from Father or Y/N since their departure.”

Shit.

Jason shot to his feet. “Do we have a zeta to Star City?”

Damian scoffed. “Of course.”

“Good. We’re going to use it.”

“Affirmative.”

Jason drags the kid by the collar of his shirt. His bike is too far, so Jason hotwires a car and hauls ass to the Cave. Everyone else in this stupid nocturnal family is still asleep, so no one interrupts them when Damian turns off the zeta’s parental override and plugs in their coordinates. It’s a good thing he keeps a spare suit in the Cave; he hadn’t even thought to grab it from his apartment.

Jason takes a deep breath before stepping through. He’s had some time to think, so he knows exactly what he wants to say. He’ll apologize. He’ll ask to work through why you think your pain is such a non-issue that you’ll throw yourself at death headfirst. You’ll explain your thoughts, and agree to start thinking about your own health, and then maybe you’ll say ‘I love you’ to each other and kiss and live the rest of your lives happily ever after.

Jason steps into a tornado.

A metal plate zips by so close it nearly shears off his nose. Jason cries out and stumbles back, tripping over Damian as he emerges from the zeta.

“Are you sure you took us to the right place?” he shouts over the whirlwind screaming in his ears.

“Of course!” Damian yells back. “I do not make mistakes.”

“Then what the hell is going on here?”

“Unclear! The zeta should have put us in STAR labs!”

Jason stares at the big metal contraption in front of them. “I think it did.”

“What?”

He shouts, “I think it did!”

If Jason is ever going to look at a machine and think, Wow. That looks exactly like a time machine, this is that machine. It’s almost too massive to take in. And something is definitely wrong with it, unless lightning is supposed to be crackling around it and its metal plates are supposed to be peeling off.

Why had the Flash called Batman to help? What could Bruce do that a speedster couldn't?

“He’s gonna kill me for bringing Robin here,” Jason groaned.

Damian shouted, “What?”

“Nothing!”

Something yellow zips in front of them, and all of a sudden Jason can hear. His stomach just about falls out between his teeth when he pukes.

Damian doesn’t puke, although he does look queasy.

They’re now in another room in the lab. Thick glass windows separate them from the tornado. Watching the metal whirl around is kind of hypnotizing.

“Sorry,” says the Flash. “That happens a lot, actually.”

When Jason looks up, Batman and Ghoul are glaring at him. Funny how he can tell, even though neither vigilante’s mask exposes much (or all) of their face.

“Red Hood,” growls Batman, “what are you and Robin doing here?”

Jason looks past him and says to you, “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

Flash looks between you and Jason and coughs into his hand, “Awkward.”

You roll your eyes beneath your mask. “I thought this would take an hour, tops.”

“Things have gotten… out of hand,” says Batman, which is akin to someone else screaming about the apocalypse and end of all humanity.

“Two important pieces in the collider disconnected early this morning,” says Flash.

“Okay,” says Jason. “So put them back together?” Aren’t these two supposed to be Earth’s smartest heroes?

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Quantum mechanics,” says Batman. “Too complicated to explain.”

You whisper behind your hand, “He’s been trying to help me understand all night.”

“So there’s technically good and bad news,” says Flash. “Good news: the malfunction is fixable. Now. It wasn’t before. Bad news: holding the machine together while it resets will kill you of radiation that unwinds your DNA. Good news: if I vibrate at just the right frequency, I may survive.”

“Okay, great,” says Jason. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you four to get out of range of the blast zone, mostly,” Flash says. “There is a small non-zero chance that the whole building will combust.”

“Five minutes should do it,” Batman growls. “Come along, Robin.”

Instead of coming along, Damian says, “What is that?” and points over Batman and Flash’s shoulders.

Everyone turns to look.

“I don’t see anything,” says Jason. He turns around to see Damian’s arms wrapped tight around your middle. By the time Flash and Batman turn back around, the boy’s arms are crossed over his chest as if nothing happened.

“Apologies,” Damian says stiffly. “I must have imagined it.”

Batman knows his son well, and he eyes Damian suspiciously, but at that moment a piece of debris hits the glass at the right angle, and shoots into the room. Flash jumps out of the way and it buries into the wall behind him.

The tornado’s cacophony is even louder, if that’s possible. Flash blurs into motion, and the ground pulls away from Jason. When he stops moving at the speed of light, he’s crouched beneath a desk next to you. Damian and Batman are together under the desk to your right.

Jason peers around the edge. All he can see of Flash is a yellow blur darting all over the machine. For a moment the wind stops, and every piece of debris clatters into the walls, then onto the floor. Jason’s ears ring.

“Is that it?”

There’s a tremendous crash, and Flash slams into the wall. The force of it holds him there for a moment, and then he tumbles to the ground, unconscious.

Batman darts out from the desk to pull the man’s body to safety. He taps Flash’s cheek, but the man doesn’t stir.

Well, shit. How long can they wait for Flash to wake up?

You say something, but Jason doesn’t hear. He shouts, “What?”

Your hands pull at your mask, and you yank it off, ruffling your hair. Jason smoothes it away from your face on instinct.

“Just tell me what to do,” he shouts.

Your eyes close against the wind. Tears escape the corners of both.

Jason feels your gentle fingers around the edge of his mask, and he helps you remove it. “What is it, Y/N?”

“I’m sorry,” you say. “This isn’t fair.”

“We can—why are you saying this?” His eyes dart between you and Batman. The tornado in the other room is growing worse by the second, but he’s just looking at you two like some soap opera.

“Hey!” Your fingers latch in the front of his collar, and you yank Jason’s surprised mouth down onto yours. Your noses bump, and he forgets to breathe (he should joke that you take his breath away when all this is over) but it’s… It’s perfect.

His first kiss.

Damian yells, “Gross!”

You pull back. A brilliant smile lights up your face. “Hey. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jason breathes.

Metal clicks around his wrist.

Jason looks at the handcuff, not really understanding your plan until you latch the other cuff around one of the desk’s bolted-down legs. “Don’t you dare,” he says. Jerks his wrist back. The cuff clatters but holds.

“I’ve got a chance.”

“Not a good one!”

“I’ll see you in a sec.” You stand up.

“What are you doing?” Damian hollers.

“Don’t do this!” Jason shouts. He fights with the handcuffs, and they creak, but he won’t get out of them in time to stop you. Anxious desperation courses through his veins. “Y/N, get back here!”

Damian’s head whips between you and Jason. His eyes widen, and he lunges out from behind the desk to stop you, but Batman catches him around the middle and hauls him back kicking and screaming.

You shout to Batman, “Get them out of here!”

The cowled man looks at you for a long moment. Jason’s spirits rise: will Batman stop you?

But then he nods smartly, giving you permission to exit the room and enter the tornado. Batman tears the door handle off seconds before Robin hits it, banging his fists on the metal and screaming your name. He lets Robin tire himself out doing that and crosses over to Jason. “Will you fight me?”

Jason stares at his father, tears brimming in his eyes. “How could you let them do that?”

Voice completely emotionless, Batman says, “It was the most practical risk to take.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s okay.” Batman crouches and reaches a hand out. He strokes Jason’s hair twice, the way he used to when they were younger, and Jason hates the way he leans into it. “I’ll be back for you, then.” He straightens and barks, “Robin, to me!”

Damian whirls around, teeth bared in a feral snarl. “I will not leave Ghoul!”

Jason can’t hear whatever Bruce says to him, but somehow he persuades Damian to help pick Flash’s limp body off the ground. With a flourish of capes, they disappear, and Jason’s left alone, handcuffed to a desk, listening to the tornado in the next room tear apart the love of his life.

The wind crescendos.

Abates.

The building holds its breath, and then—

Whoosh.

Jason curls up into as tight a ball as possible, teeth gritted against the terrible flooding heat. If not for the shelter of an entire wall and desk separating him from the flames, Jason would be burnt alive. No one could withstand—

Jason whirls around and screams, “Y/N!” The stupid fucking handcuff, he pulls against it, and it bites into his wrist, drawing blood. “Fuck, I’m being so fucking stupid—”

Jason braces the metal chain against one of his knives and applies pressure until it snaps. Then he’s up, feet skidding over glass and metal shards, and he bursts through the door to the particle collider. “Y/N! Ghoul!” He can hear his own panicked breathing, but he can’t regulate it.

You’re okay. You have to be okay. You survived a broken neck, severed spinal cord, and seven bullet wounds to the abdomen. Just because Jason can’t find your body doesn’t mean anything. Just because the room is filled with ash and dust and dirt and no fucking body doesn’t mean anything.

Jason screams your name until his throat is raw. The particle collider is ruined, partially collapsed, and Jason slices open his palms on jagged edges trying to shove it away. Are you stuck beneath it? Jason doesn’t even know what parts were broken.

Something clatters behind him, and Jason whirls around, but it’s just Batman.

Surveying the damage, the man abruptly looks old beyond his years. He barely spares Jason a glance before beginning his own search for you.

“Y/N! Please!” Jason begs. “You can’t be dead, you promised—”

“Red Hood,” Batman says, and his voice is so raw that Jason whirls around.

There’s a pale-clothed arm in Batman’s arm. Jason gasps.

Then he sees that it’s attached to a torso.

Batman grunts and tugs, and the rest of you slips out from under a thick sheet of metal. “Oh, fuck,” Jason says hoarsely. He stumbles over the mess and falls to his knees in front of you. “You smart little asshole, you—” Jason feels for a pulse.

Nothing.

What had Flash said? The radiation unwinds your DNA? Is that something Professor Pyg’s sick experimentation could protect you from?

“Hood,” Batman says.

“No.”

“Hood—”

“Fuck off, B.”

Instead of fucking off, the older man pulls down his cowl and sinks to Jason’s level. “You’re bleeding, son.”

“It’s fine,” Jason mutters. His hands are rubbing it onto your suit, but you’re good at getting bloodstains out of the fabric. It’ll be okay. “Come on, Y/N.” His lower lip wobbles, but Jason resists the stone forming in his throat. You’re fine. You’ve always been fine.

Maybe you just need to breathe better. Jason rips off your mask, but that doesn’t help. Maybe he needs to breathe. He removes his own helmet, but that, too, makes little difference.

Physically, you look fine. Jason doesn’t see a single wound.

Of course, it would be hard for the naked eye to recognize unwound DNA, wouldn’t it?

Jason abruptly has a rush of sympathy for Dr. Fries. He doesn’t give a shit how long it takes or if the technology hasn’t been invented yet, your DNA is getting re-wound.

Then you suck in a deep breath. Your eyes fly open.

DC taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts @cliosunshine @fictionalwhor3

forever taglist

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

#reader insert #jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you

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