#like all my pants drag the ground

[the-gay-phagenda]

one thing about dan is he is always gonna be in pantaloons

[tonycries]

She's My Vitals!

Synopsis. The best part about a séx ban? When they’re broken!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, séx bans, bondagé, PÚSSYDRUNK BOYS, creampíes, CÚMPLAY, spítting, true form! Sukuna, dp, pússy-slappíng, chokíng Nanami, BRÉEDING, markíng, making him whíne, talking to her, jealous Nanami, fínger-súcking, NÉEDY boys, “just the típ”, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. LAST LEAK DAY HOW ARE WE FEELING BBYGIRLS??

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 1 week…almost

“Oh god…” he’s rasping out, skimming a thick thumb over where your flimsy panties were the most translucent. Just the sticky sheen of saturated slick makes him salivate, neglected cock throbbing with how much he’s missed you. “Y’really got me begging, huh, naughty girl?”

Now, Toji Fushiguro doesn’t ask for attention - either you come to him with that cute pout of yours, begging him to fuck you full of his long, solid inches or you don’t. Toji Fushiguro doesn’t grovel - he’s never just barely lasted only a measly week since being punished with a sex ban. Banging at your door soon after, strong arms just wrangling his pretty girl to the ground right then and there. 

But here he was. 

“S-so eager.” you’re humming, the hardwood floors of your hallway chafes lightly underneath your arched back. Your nails dig into his muscled shoulders, holding back a giggle at the way he’s already so gone. Eyes droopy, abs flexing, panting. “Affected so much by-”

“-just a week?” Two rough hands knead at your ass, dragging your body forwards to grind his angry cock in a sultry push. “A week of hell, you mean.”

There’s a soft smack! gifted right onto your puffed-up clit, and Toji has the audacity to laugh - laugh, all low and humorless when your needy cunt gushes out in another way of your syrupy sweet juices. 

“Though…” he circles his thick, reddish head over your quivering entrance, gliding over the glistening mess you’ve made. Coating around your puffy teasingly with every ribbon of his thick precum, “-seems like I wasn’t the- hah- only one all desperate n’ shit for you.” That sinful scar positioned on his lips grazes jaggedly against yours in a lazy kiss, “Missed me, woman?”

You’re rolling your eyes, “Real rich coming from-” And Toji can’t do anything but watch when your hand dips down between your two pressed-up bodies to wrap around his fat hilt. He throws his head back, swearing when you just slot his leaky tip between your swollen folds. Sensitive and so swelteringly hot. “-the same man that almost broke down my door at two in the m-morning because he missed me too much, Toji.”

Fuck- fuck, Toji doesn’t think he even heard whatever just came out of your mouth. No, he was way too busy trying not to fucking pass out. Humping you pathetically as if in heat now, gulping at the dripping wet squelches from down below. Shit, his favorite song.

“Say it.” You’re feeling two of his thick palms come up to rest atop your head, lacing those thick fingers of his slowly. “Say my name again.”

It was almost endearing how tough he still tried to sound. Acting like his body wasn’t wracking with a jolting shudder every time you’re grinding your hips up in steady gyrations against his rock-hard cock. 

“Say what now?” you purr, silky sweet. Peppering a lingering kiss against his forehead, his scar, only to have him bite down on your lower lip in warning. “Toji? The same Toji that was so mean to me - ignoring me for some stupid mission? The same big, bad Toji Fushiguro who took less than a week to crack-”

“M’sorry!” And usually you’d love to tease Toji more for the way he was cutting you off so much, but he just sounded like he was in utter wreck. Lips wobbling, a baritone ah! ah! ah! leaving with each sopping glissade of your cunt across his twitchy shaft. “There! I said it. Won’t- won’t miss another one of our hngh! d-dates for a job, m’kay? Fuck this sex ban- I’ll even answer your cute calls in the middle of finishing off a target if I have to just please-”

Ah, there it was.

The heady hallway - fuck, you two hadn’t even made it to the bed, yet - rings out with the soft thwack! of Toji’s heavy, cum-filled balls against your ass. Only increasing in volume with each greedier and greedier little half-thrust into your snug cunt. 

“Ngh! Toji- Toji f-fuck.” you’re keening at the feeling of all the air in your lungs being thoroughly pushed out. “Y-you’re lucky you’re so convincing-”

And he feels so hot, dizzy head being flung back at the heavenly suck of your pussy swallowing him up. Being stretched so gapingly open, it’s like his girth is contorting your velvety walls to his very shape. Stretching you out so much, massaging your sweet spots without even trying, reaching for your very womb-

“Ha-ahh- so tight- fuck- no wonder I almost broke yer damn door down.” he’s breathing out. The words finally registering, “Is it me that’s convincing or is it-” His biceps bulge with effort, rippling as the vice-like restraint above you is pushing you down, down, down to his hold. “-is it this?” 

You can’t even form an answer if you wanted to - because Toji was hunching over his hulking body to bully his fat cock into you in thorough, jagged ruts of his hips. Keeping you stuck in his vice-like hold, fully in the face of all his pressurized thrusts.

“What? Cat got yer- ngh tongue?” Toji smiles, smugly. Obscenely. “I missed your p-pretty voice just as much as this cunt, y’know? Why don’t ya use those words f’me, doll?”

Your entire body just jerks upwards when one of his soft palms plant back down on your clit, giving another simpering smack!

“Yes!” you’re spitting, and there’s such a supple satisfaction in Toji’s movements now. “M-missed this- missed you so much…”

“Tha’s fuckin’ right. Never gonna let ya forget it.” He’s grunting throatily at your answer, the soft, rounded pads of his fingers swirl over your stinging clit, eager to give another playful slap. He stills - and you whine, grinding down pleadingly. Exactly how he wanted it. “So why dontcha fuck back into me n’ show me, you lil’ tease?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 17 days

There’s a slow, syrupy puddle growing on your inner thighs - not between them, no, on top of them. Glossing down your skin in a milky ooze, Nanami’s red, achy cock right in the center of it all. Rubbing and grinding rawly between your thighs, he’s rutting forward like he’s out of control-

“M-my love.” Even those words sound so wrecked, Nanami’s soft baritone cracking, a few octaves higher than usual. “Are you- hah- doing okay?”

Your kiss-bitten pout makes his thick length jolt in interest, surging forwards to kiss them. “I am, Ken. Which is why I r-really want you to break the-”

“No!” he’s gasping, and there’s another harsh glissade of his glisteningly wet cock just across your puffed-up folds. Two firm hands hold your squirming hips still while he fucks your thighs even sloppier. Drowsy, almost. “No no no- we can’t. Don’t wanna overwork my gorgeous wife, sh-she’s already had such a long month at work, no?”

You shake your head stubbornly, pulling on the loosened end of his favorite speckled yellow tie to just drag Nanami even closer. “M’not-”

“But- the project-”

“Told you m’not overworked, okay, Ken?” Within only a few moments, you’ve got your trembly legs hooked around muscled hips, feeling his dick reach every single one of your hidden sweet spots and crannies with just the single inch he’s sinking in. Accidentally - but oh, an accident never felt so good. “Besides…e-even with this annoying new project, the month’s been even hah- longer because of this sex ban. I really, really miss you inside me–”

“Oh…better not have told me that.” He breathes into the crook of your neck, hiding away that rosy blush high on his cheeks. And before you can comfort your dear husband - or maybe make him even more flustered - he’s giving one, solid thrust into the depths of your awaiting cunt. Slowly. “After- after so long. Fuuuck- you shouldn’t have told me that.”

Giving a steady roll of his hips until you were just gasping at the sheer thickness. Nanami’s long girth leaving you spotless, swiveling his fat head easily against your g-spot.

“F-fuck-” he’s still muttering to himself, jaw clenched tight with all the strain of not devouring you whole after so long-

“So do it.” 

Your words make him still in his unforgiving pace, cocking a head in confusion. The sight of him - all disheveled and blushing an innocent red, eyes drooped in pussydrunk pleasure, mouth parted sweetly - has you giggling. “Seriously- aww, Ken, you didn’t even realize you were talking out loud?” Your palms smooth their way over his blue button-up, too impatient to have stripped out of it. “Do it. Dontcha think the best ngh! de-stressor during a long work project would be this-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence - and you didn’t have to. Because Nanami is doing exactly that. 

“You’re not good f’me-” he draws a greedy thumb over your clit in tight, methodical circles. Pressing sweet peck after peck on your sagging open lips, “You have- no idea- how I- hah- was holdin’ back all this time.”

Each squelching thrust has the pool of cum and your saturated slick expanding ever-wider. Drenching into the once-fresh sheets, your skin, forming a creamy ring around his heft base. It stands out so starkly against the neat patch of blond and his red, red shaft.

“Seein’ you walking around the office in those godforsaken short skirts.” he growls, sharp gaze honing in on the mess of fabric in tatters on the floor. “Havin’ those interns making eyes at you- Meanwhile I couldn’t even fuck my cute wife.” All those frustrations he’s channeling into his hips, fucking you deeper and deeper into the bed, you swear in the morning you’d be able to see the markings of his tight balls against your ass, his v-line against your thighs. “All because of some shitty project I couldn’t give less of a shit about.”

“S’almost- hah-” you’re hiccuping when his thumb strokes even harder, matching his lewd pace. “-s’almost over anyway. And I al-already filed the-”

“My love…” Nanami gently cuts in, just quelling your worried excuses with another jittering ram of his hips. Pressing expertly into where he already knew would make you squeal. “-this cockblocking project is the last thing I wan’ hear about right now-” He’s sucking gently on your lips in a sloppy kiss - his favorite type - “-I’d much prefer to finally hear you cum-”

And this was so unlike your dear husband. 

He was never this rough when throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, not giving you anything but a second to adjust before bending down, down, down to fold you into the meanest mating press possible. Never this hoarse with his words, wrenching out of his shot throat with each bludgeoning push into your cunt. Just ravaging you from the inside out. 

Soon enough, it gets too much.

And Nanami’s pants turn into heaves, his pressurized cadence turn into nothing more than languid, sloppy ruts back and forth back and forth back and-

“K-Ken-” Your fingers find their way to his tie again - pulling so hard that it makes him lightheaded. So tight it cuts a red indent into his golden skin. “M’so close-”

You’d heard about the type of orgasms so sudden that you don’t even realize you’re having them. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re cumming. So hard, so aggressive, even that Nanami has to bite back his own groans. 

Head falling backwards at how almost-difficult it was to drive into your snug cunt now, velvety walls constricting with pleasure. Milking him so fucking good- “Yeah- yeah fuck, choke me. Choke me while you cum, darling.”

In a split-second, the pads of Nanami’s fingers on your clit shove themselves between your lips. The honeyed cum and slick pooled thickly in a candied coat that makes you throb. 

“That s’for not hngh! telling me sooner about the project almost being done. And this-” It’s followed by a gentle peck to your forehead, and an absolutely not gentle twitch of his weepy cock inside you. His fingers tighten inside your mouth, yours tighten around his tie, “-is for all the overtime m’gonna hafta make up for.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 8 days

It’s been too long - way too long. A week- fuck, maybe more? 

Geto doesn’t know, can’t even think right now with the way each and every slow, smooth glissade of your puffed-up pussy down his long shaft have him losing his mind let alone his train of thought. Gritting his teeth, he tugs even tighter around the cool leather restrain pinning him down to the plush bed, “Th-this has already gone on for a week- hngh- don’t you think that’s enough teasing, gorgeous?”

Fuck him and his stubborn streak.

“Over a week of you giving me the cold shoulder, Sugu?” Oh your saccharine sweet hum is enough for the curve of his cock to twitch up. Bumping lewdly against your clit, “I think m’being more than generous.”

Your leader’s dark brows knit even deeper in frustration, the need bleeding into those heaving shudders of his. “Aww, c-come on—” And if you didn’t know any better you’d have said that Geto Suguru was whining - whining. The headboard rattles loudly when he pulls, “Y’know I didn’t mean it- was jus’ a lil’ lesson because y’d-didn’t finish your duties as my second-in-command. I already give you ‘nough pretty privilege, don’t I?”

“Oh yeah?” you’re huffing, leaning forward until he gets the perfect view of your perky tits. Geto can’t help the way his tongue lolls out to suckle gently on your nipples. Handsome cheeks hollowing out with each swirling movement. “And I’m gonna give you a muzzle next if you don’t stop running that mean mouth.”

Shit, Geto blames it on not having you for a while now - fuck this sex ban - because he can already feel his weepy cock gush out in a fresh coat of syrupy precum. Steamy and sticky between your thighs, it was almost fucking embarrassing.

“Yes, ma’am.” he gasps out, sounding as disoriented as you looked right now. There’s a candied string of spit between his glossed-over lips and your tits that snaps around his almost leering smile. “Anything for you.”

If you felt his admission was mocking, then you didn’t say anything. And Geto was so fucking thankful, because just then you’re positioning his achy cock right at your slobbering entrance. Coating down his angry, angry shaft in your sweet juices before sinking down - slowly. So, so torturously slow. 

“Fuck!” Geto’s biting his lip when your silky soft walls give an experimental squeeze, tugging the rest of him even deeper into your tight channel. Throwing his head back, lazily - this was heaven. “I’m so- C-can’t you hurry-”

“Nope.” you grin, popping the “p”. Your gyrating hips falter into stillness, until your filthy cunt’s just barely cockwarming him at this point. Hands ghosting up his flexing abs, the plans of his bulging pecs, up, up, up until they wrap so prettily around Geto’s milky throat. “Why dontcha do it yourself since you want it so bad, hm?”

Ah, he’s in love.

“Anything for you.”

Jaw tensing, his eyes are locked on the way your pussy lips part around him. Straddled and sat so prettily on top of him, he’s planting his feet onto the silken sheets without a second thought. Long fingers intertwining deftly with the chain on those cuffs, leveraging you just right and-

Snap!

Both of you gasp in surprised synchronization when those expensive handcuffs - custom-made, mind you - shred easily. Raising your eyes to look at Geto and- oh, fuck. You were fucked. 

“That wasn’t on the plan but…” his dark eyes glint with such a predatory spark, plump lips curling into an easy smirk. He soothes over the stinging red where he’d been held, greedy gaze locked on you. And only you. “...neither was havin’ my cute lil’ assistant tie me up, hm?” 

In all of two seconds, you’re just being slammed down onto the hard ridges of Geto’s defined hipbones. Bruises sure to blossom up on your skin when his two rough palms grab a ravenous handful of your ass. Reeling your pliant body up, up, up till the very tip of his velvety cock kissed teasingly at your hole, and down. 

“O-oh!” Your hands come down to his sculpted chest, skin heated against his soft puffs of breath. And it’s just about all you can manage to get out, mouth salivating at all of the thick inches of him filling you up, so dreadfully bullying with his thrusts.

“Shit- shit shit shit, fuckin’ missed this. Must’ve had a lotttt of fun hngh! playing around with your leader, huh?” Geto lingers in hot pecks at the corners of your eyes, tasting the salty sting of your tears. “Treatin’ me like I was second-in-command. Did it get you wet, gorgeous?”

He’s leaning back to get a better view of the way your pussy was being split open, glistening and winking up at him. “Yeahhh, it sure did- jus’ look at you. You’ve been hating this petty sex ban as much as I have.”

Just the thought is enough to have whatever blood is left in his body to rush even more feverishly into his painful cock. Bulbous tip blushing a rosy red, his ravaged cock gushes sensitively with hot precum after so long, growing even girthier inside you.

You’re whining at the feeling of your already-contracted walls being stretched even more like elastic around him. “I- I did-” 

He fucks out whatever poor cry is on the tip of your tongue with a harsh thrust, arching into a perfect curve of his body against yours. 

“Awww, I know, pretty girl. I know–” Geto soothes, gliding away your glossy pout with his thumb, before pressing such a tauntingly sweet sweet kiss. “N’ we’ve gotta make up for th-those hah! eight days, right?” At your barely-lucid nod, he only grins wider. Fuck yeah, he missed this. And he’s never letting you out of his sight. “And afterward- we can talk about a little ah- promotion, how about that?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 2 days

“Just the tip.” Choso’s hushing hotly against your ear later into the night, eyes double-checking at his locked door before rutting his hot, hefty erection against the globes of your ass. “Just the- hah- tip, baby please. Feels like m’gonna die if I don’t get just a feel of your cute cunt already.”

It’s only been two days visiting his family, and Choso feels like he’s just about ready to burst. All those soft moments babying his little brother, those stupid lil’ jokes from his uncle about adding another Itadori to the family - they were swirling up inside his hazy mind and flowing straight to his achy cock. Rock-hard and leaking saturated precum all over the back of your soft cotton sleep shorts. 

Choso wanted you - and he wanted you now. 

“Baby…” his drowsy kiss drags along your lips. A calloused hand comes up under your leg to slot his achy cock between them, rubbing and grinding in smooth, slow gyrations. Shuddering, “Don’t care if we’re loud I- hah- r-really just wanna fuck a baby into ya.”

“Shh shhh, go ahead, Cho.” you giggle, whirling over your shoulder to teasingly peck at the tip of his nose. “But jus’ the tip, m’kay?”

Your sweet boyfriend’s nodding before you’re even finishing your sentence, not having the patience to even take your pajamas off. Just hooking a long, pale finger along the side of the fabric, throwing his head back against the pillows to take an even close look at the gloss of slick sticking to your inner thighs. 

“O-oh, baby. My baby–” his deep voice cracks. Biting back guttural groans when the very flushed thick tip of his cock dips so perfectly around the corner of your sopping slit. Frantically, he claps a hand over his loud moans, “Just…just the tip. Right?”

Whether he was asking you or whether he was asking himself you have no idea. Because Choso wasn’t wasting even a millisecond more, he’s rubbing in velvety glides at your swollen folds. So dripping wet that it takes him a few whimpering grinds to bully his fat head at your hole without sliding right across. Slowly. 

“Shit- missed this. J-juuust-” he’s heavily panting, kissing down your spine with each inch after fucking inch massaging inside your gummy walls. Throbbing heavily because shit, it might not have been long - but it’s felt like forever. “-the- the-”

Choso’s blabbering words only slur out even more through the gaps in his fingers, honeyed tone becoming more simpering. And you could count the hitches in his breath, the shake in his thighs when he’s disappearing between your legs. After not having you for a whole two days, he was pussydrunken already.

“Something wrong, baby?” you purr, tugging on his long strands of hair, now damp with sweat. “You look tense.”

“Tense?” Choso gasps, voice pitched up higher than usual with disbelief. “Wh-what are you ah- shit, don’ squeeze me like that- what are you t-talking about, m’not tense.” 

But your smug smirk only tugs wider at the jittery way his free hand locks onto the small of your waist. Pushing and pulling in a sultry pace, massaging your snug channel with the upwards curving divot on the very tip of his cock. Feeling just the very peak of that prominent vein he has down his creamy middle. 

“Are you sure?” you hum, hearing him outwardly gulp. And you know that you should go a little easy on him - your poor boyfriend did just spend the entire weekend being cockblocked by his family, after all. You know you should be mindful of the soft creaking of the bed, the ever-growing groans wrenching from Choso. “I would much rather you just-” Your nails leave ravaged red trails down his milky thighs “-breed me the way you’ve been wanting to these past two days, Cho.”

Oh, Choso could cry, he could moan, he could cum. 

And - tears pricking at his dewy, dark eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment - that’s exactly what he does. You’re letting out a mewl at the feeling of Choso’s sweltering hot tip just gliding across the spongy bottom of your cervix. Glossing over your insides with a thick coat of his cum, dredge after dredge of creamy white that fill you up so much. Seeping down through the corners of your sloppy hole and forming a milky ring around the tufts of black at his hilt. “Fuck- fuck m’blamin’ being cockblocked from this heavenly pussy f’this.”

“Fuck! Wasn’t even that long, Cho. I can ah- feel you all the way-” Your fingers slide up to about halfway at your stomach, pressing down on that familiar nudging divot, “-here.”

That’s all it takes for his weepy cock to just gush more spurts of seed again. Again and again and again- Immediately, his large hand covers your mouth, fully muffling those pretty moans. 

“F-fuck, pretty- m’y dad is j-just hah- the door over.” he’s almost bawling out, hips uncontrolled with the way he’s rutting up in deep, thorough pushed of his slender hips. “So loud.” But Choso makes no move to quieten either of you. Crashing his lips into yours to let your sweetened moans vibrate away into his mouth, heavy balls smacking against your skin in a heady thwack! thwack! thwack! “So messy.” 

You feel so sluggish being stuffed to the very brim like this, limbs aching with how close Choso was pinning you back against his muscled chest. There’s only so much that your cunt can take before it’s spreading out into a messy puddle below you two, adding to the gripping squelches. Shit, you two were definitely facing hell tomorrow - namely, a too-smug Sukuna. 

“Baby…” Choso drags out, in a way you already knew didn’t bode well. Two of his fingers swipe at the mess beading out, “Since m’being so loud…why don’t I busy my mouth with something else?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 5 hours (but he won’t admit it)

That pretty pout of yours was too irresistible, the way you’d kissed him goodbye too sultry - Sukuna knew your game. 

And here - teeth gritted, thighs bouncing in frustration under the table, anger flaring when his court meeting drags onto around the fifth consecutive hour - he also knew he was playing right into it.

Yeah, fuck that.

Which is why there isn’t even a shred of regret in his smirk when he finally reaches his breaking point - a click of his fingers and he’s no longer in the royal meeting room. Instead, nestling up to your side at his chambers, smothered amongst all the expensive silken sheets. 

Not even the tiniest speck of embarrassment in his next words to you, “On all fours, brat.”

“Kuna- you’re back- fuuuck-” your honeyed moans sound out over the way he had one large hand smushing you deeper and deeper into the cushiony pillows. “-you’re back e-early?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have anything to hngh! do with it, woman.” he spits, and the mattress dips when he’s hiking up a powerful thigh. Using the leverage to pressurize each jarring, determined little half-thrust inside your gaping hole. “Teasing n’ toying with your king. You’re hah- r-real brave for a lil’ human y’know that?”

You’re whining, “A-all it took was f-five hours of a sex ban-”

Another one of his big, beefy arms swipe down your arched spine, dipping down to spread open your puffed-up folds even more. “Silence.”

So what if the king of curses couldn’t last five hours without your pretty pussy? Was that a crime? 

The vice-like grip on your head was forcing your bleary gaze down to where he was feeding your cunt with each of his massive inches. Two absolutely engorged cocks with twin reddish tips, glossing all over your poor entrance with matching gushes of hot precum. Just barely even halfway in - but you could already feel him bulging at your very stomach. “Heh…wouldya look at that. Didn’t even prep her as much as u-usual and she’s already this ready to take me. Are ya always such a slut?”

You can’t stop yourself from bowing even deeper into his hold, the upwards curve of your spine pushing you even closer to his stacked bases. 

“Answer me.” His deep baritone snaps you out of your little haze, and two hands prop you even closer. You could feel every heated gust of his words against the shell of your ear, “Speak, if you don’ wanna displease your king, little human.” 

And oh Sukuna can’t deny that stirring pride in his chest when your jumbled-out words spill out, body trembly, needy - but still so eager to please him. 

“I- I just-” Your breath hitches wetly in your chest when one of his four hulking arms dip downwards, toying with your swollen clit between two thick fingers. It takes a branding smack! to the fat of your ass to remember what you were trying to say again. “-just knew I was gonna miss you at the meeting today, Kuna.”

And if the way he jolted inside you wasn’t an answer - the raw divots of his cocks jostling inside you to crash into your g-spot - Sukuna gasps - gasps. Voice so simperingly silken when he asks, “You missed me?”

You’re nodding - but that isn’t enough for him, fuck it might never be. 

In retaliation, your pussy is being gifted with another few of his long thrusts. Two hands tightening roughly around your waist to keep his pretty girl from escaping.

“Like I said- u-use your hngh- words, doll.” Followed by such a mean bump of both rounded curves of his fat cockheads against your g-spot, making you cry out in your sweetened voice that he loved so much. “Clearly you’ve still got the voice, heh-”

The royal bed is creaking so loudly that Sukuna has half the mind to wonder whether the fools in the meeting room not too far away could hear. Ah, fuck them. Right now he couldn’t care less about anything other than you.

“I did miss you.” you’re mewling, big fat tears pricking at your eyes each time he’s drilling in. “Missed you so much, Kuna.”

There’s a sudden, sloppy squelch! And before you know it, he’s buried all the way in until the sensitive skin of your ass rubbed rawly against those rough patches of pink at his toned pelvis, Sukuna’s heavy balls kissing snugly against your thighs. 

“Ahh–” he’s heaving out, while you can do nothing but scramble towards the headboard, the sheets, anything. Peaking in the thumb rolling over your clit to take a good, long look at how your stuttering pussy was so obscenely stretched and molded around his cocks, all the way down to those ringed tattoos on his thick bases. Gapingly full. Doubly sucking him up. “Fuck the sex ban- beats that stupid fuckin’ meeting tha’s for sure.”

And you didn’t know whether it was possible to forget how big Sukuna truly was in just five hours. Because his every throb only seems to drive him even deeper against your cervix, thickening so maddeningly to stretch out your insides. 

“Yeah yeah- atta girl. Take it all- fuck, take it all f’me.” He croons through your high, squelching movements only speeding up. There’s an element of such raw, primal need in what he does, like he’s just dragging out every dredge of pleasure out of you. You’re just gulping when a hand makes its way into your black-tinged vision, wrapping snugly around your throat to pull you backwards against his every ram. “Now, let’s see if this pretty pussy can squirt before they come around tryna find me for the meeting.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 15 minutes

“Sweetheart-” Gojo whines, rosy lips downturning into the most perfect pout you’d ever seen. “Sweetheart please- I know I was-”

“Stupid? Impulsive?” you’re rolling your eyes, despite the vice-like hold he had on you. Sitting you down so prettily on his lap, manspread as far as his office chair would allow him. “An absolute idiot?”

Fuck, at that last insult, Gojo’s cock only hardens impossibly inside your gummy walls. Marking out each and every divot and vein down his furious shaft, he throws his head back with a groan at the taut feeling of your clingy walls being stretched all around him. 

“Seriously?” you’re gasping, to which he only curls his lips up into the most unabashed grin. 

Not even a moment later, he’s bouncing his thighs, jostling you precariously on top of his frame. It makes your hips just squeeze downwards in smooth, swiveling gyrations that massage his throbbing cockhead. “Aw come on- I take back what I said about No Nut November can we just-”

“Yeah? After what-” Your eyes dart over your shoulder towards the clock at the very end of the room, “-fifteen minutes? You dragged me all the way out of a meeting after only that? Come on, Toru, you’ve gotta make to at least twenty-”

“Please.” 

You’re pausing in surprise, and that’s the last thing that Gojo wanted right about now. So with a huffed-out groan, he’s back to placing two greedy palms that smooth over the curve of your hips, up and down up and down. Soothing you over for when he just rams you down recklessly on his achy cock. 

He bites up the column of your neck, all the way up to that sweet spot at your earlobe. “Already said the magic word, didn’t I?” Before using all of his inhuman core strength to bounce you all the way down in another thorough thrust. “What? Wan’ me to say pretty please, my girl?”

The strongest was just begging at your feet, because laced with his tease was a very real, nervous tremor. Voice lilting up higher than normal, drunken eyes darting between your own and the very obvious little grind of his pulsing length.

Buried so brandingly inside you, like he wanted to make you memorize him from the inside out. Body bowed into yours like it hurt to be apart more than just a few millimeters, he was stuck against your side. Only pushing deeper and deeper and-

“I’ll- I’ll make it to twenty minutes next time-” he giggles deliriously, already tinged with such smugness. “Maybe even thirty- please- please just’, fuck- need your cute cunt.”

And you were a strong sorcerer in your own right - but seated like this, Gojo definitely had the advantage. He was still so much taller, so much broader, muscles rippling through the thin fabric of his black t-shirt. Biceps bulging out with each stuttering slam into your hips, it’s like he wanted to be as sloppy as possible. 

To have your cunt drooling down every inch of his angry, red cock glistening a sweet sweet coat of juices with every single squelch. It drips down from where your skirt was bunched up, down onto the wooden floors. Shit, you definitely weren’t going back to the meeting like this. 

“So wet, huh?” He smiles, a snowy brow rising at the sight. And Gojo’s tall frame sags even deeper down his steadfast chair to get an even better long, swallowing deeply. “Damn- you’re makin’ me so thirsty, sweetheart.”

You smack his chest, “S-so filthy, Toru.” But you can’t hide the slight moan in your scolding, the way your clit grows even more heated - and he notices, of course. 

“I got you- I got you, girl.” He rolls an eager thumb right over where you wanted him the most, bringing a kiss over towards the underside of your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. “N’ of course m’ filthy- what’d you expect?” Gojo’s free hand occupies itself with guiding your cunt down at a maddening pace. Squelching so loud that times like this he was thankful for six eyes, for all the amplified sounds of your huffs and cunt clamping down around his girthy cock. His next words are whispered against your tongue, “M’the fucker that couldn’t last fifteen minutes without your pretty pussy, of course.”

He’s not even waiting to ask at this point - he’s already lost, he’s already broken the sex ban but fuck, did defeat feel so sweet. 

There’s a stuttering squelch, your slick glossing down his entire wrist when Gojo’s fingers sped up on your poor clit. Circling and tugging teasingly, his fingers were so deftly making you writhe. 

It simply makes your toes curl, white-hot pleasure sparking behind your eyes with each unwavering clash into your g–spot. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d be almost embarrassed at how it only takes a few clamoring rummages at your insides, a few steadfast thrusts right into the bullseye of your sweet spots, before you’re cumming and cumming so hard it makes you gasp.

“Fuck-” Your nails dig ferociously into Gojo’s strong wrist, stationed on one side of your waist, fucking downwards to meet his sloppy staccato. “Fuck fuck fuck- m’cumming- m’cumming, Toru–”

“Heh, easy girl.” he jests, dragging his plump lips down the sensitive side of your neck. “Made fun of me f’being so needy but look at you.” Running his pretty mouth a mile a minute, you could tell he’s nearing the end of his sanity, as well. Each sensitive twitch of his long shaft massaging deeper and deeper into your g-spot. “Cum f’me then- fuck- cumming- cum.”

Your velvety walls are just milking each of his gummy thrusts, gripping onto you through each and every wave of pleasure. Bolts of electricity zap through your veins, and Gojo’s flinging his eyes shut, mouth parting to groan out your name with each spurt of his thick, potent cum. Over and over-

“Fuck- fuck, yeah tha’s right.” he slurs, a hand just slamming down on his nearby desk. Like he wanted to break. To ruin. Whispering against your ear, “Now how about we go a few more times to see if I can make twenty minutes without this pretty pussy next time?”

“Thirty.”

“Deal.”

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eat me-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[tojisun]

EXPAND ON THIS

https://www.tumblr.com/tojisun/758472884430716928/no-matter-how-hard-you-try-you-just-cant-make

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

aww im glad that u (all) liked that blurb!! didnt expect the vitriol in ur guys’ reactions but ykw? samesies <3 oki uhh so heres something quick and simple

cw: fivesome (but they go in order, also simon doesnt properly get a turn im sorry 😞); f!reader; subspace; builds up into consensual noncon; unrealistic sex; rambly as hell and its set up messily; wc is 3.6k :’3

(you tell them it’s a wrong send, and that it’s meant for johnny so they all said, “oh damn. welp,” and leaves you and johnny to go at it all night long teehee <33) (jk) (unless) (no ok im jk)

johnny fucks you first. the guys didn’t complain, and trickled into your room, ready to fall to whatever place they could sit down to watch. johnny laughs, and tugs you towards him, gently slapping your hand away when you try to cover yourself up with your shirt, and tells them, “watch me.”

not us, but me. like you’re a nameless hole whose only worth is to be fucked, and somehow that… doesn’t deter you at all.

instead, you ignore the warmth flooding in your cheeks and the stares that drag on your body, and focused on johnny’s smirk and his crooning words and his wide palms roving over whatever sliver of your skin he can touch. he positions himself in between your legs, his fatigues an uncomfortable sensation against your oversensitive skin.

he doesn’t care. he drags down his zipper and frees his cock from his briefs, before swiping his palm on the inside of your thigh, gathering the excess lube glistening there to use it as oil for his prick. your nose scrunches when he brings his hand to give himself a quick tug, foreskin peeling from the head to show off how flushed it is.

he crawls until he’s on top of you, and throws out, “let me show ye how to fuck ‘er, yes?”

you don’t even realize the words are for the rest of the squad because he’s already slipping his cock in your cunt, slow and careful, and you keen because yessss—

this is the delicious burn you’ve wanted. oh god oh god—

it didn’t even take johnny long before you’re cumming, your throat spasming at the scream that rips itself out from within you. your hips rise from the bed, your body jolting, unable to ground itself at the breaking euphoria that forced shockwaves to raze your synapses.

you fall on the bed limply, satiation filling you up in lapping waves. johnny pulls out and fucks his fist and sprays his cum all over your stomach. he musses it up, rubbing his palm against it like it’s a damn lotion, and lathers whatever inch of your belly he can cover.

it’s gross and weird, especially as the recollection that you’ve had an audience hits you, but then johnny’s stepping back and moving away. you try to shut your legs close, but someone’s already shuffling in, taking up the space that johnny had carved out.

you stare up at your captain, shock filling you up. he doesn’t ask with words but he quirks his brow up, waiting, and you don’t know what it is, but you give him a nod before ducking your head to the side.

which was a mistake, you learn, because you make eye contact with kyle; kyle who is—was—slowly rubbing himself through his pants, his palm gliding over his chub. his eyes are blown wide and he looks ravenous as he meets your gaze.

you hiccup, feeling cornered and delighted at the same time, but then john’s rubbing his cock along your messy folds, using the mess you and johnny made to lube himself up, and you mewl, tearing your eyes away from kyle to meet john’s stare head on.

he looks… calm. not teasing nor hungry, but poised with forced grace like this is another mission, and he has willed his full body to sync together so that not even a stray strand of hair will falter and miss a beat.

you don’t know how to position that with yourself, not like you needed to dwell on it any further because john’s already thrusting in. like johnny, he is careful, but he is more cautious, pushing inch by inch without even a ragged breath like he’s scoping out your reaction before he could let out his.

god, why’s everything so difficult with him—even now, speared with his cock, you still don’t know how to react. it’s like you’re a recruit all over again, dawdling underneath your CO’s scrutiny. it’s jarring, terrifying, really, but then john’s drooping onto you, his head tipping down to nuzzle close to your jaw, and this level of intimacy is what rips a moan out of you. it is drawn out and high-pitched, and so, so utterly debauched.

you hear more than see john’s pleased laugh, his breaths coming out in puffs that brush against your neck in a ticklish manner. the moment drags on—nuzzles and quiet huffs, and slow rocks of his hips almost like he’s taking his time to savour you; to allow you to get used to his size because he’s so different from johnny.

johnny is thick, but john is long. he is reaching deeper than you have ever known, and it’s so overwhelming that you begin to cling to him, in need of any way to ground yourself down from the slow-racing pleasure.

you don’t know how long he’s got you like that, but then he’s pulling back and away, and, “nonono, please. please, sir—”

“shh, i’ve got you,” he rumbles, still so utterly quiet that it forces out the tears faster, and you know something’s changed because john is looking at you with a proud smile, all tactile as he manhandles you to your side, before disappearing behind you. you feel your head being lifted then dropped onto something harder than your pillow, and it is only the smell of ozone that lets you know that john had pillowed your head with his arm, while the other snakes around your waist to pull you closer to him.

you stare at the expanse of your room but everything looks like they’re appearing underneath a hazy filter, so you blink your eyes to clear them from that mist but it remains unchanged. you feel heavy, all of sudden, like you’re submerged in water, wading through the ripples. floating.

you try to look at the others but all you see are blurs of colours, and you know this should terrify you, you know something’s happening in your mind, but you feel so good. so happy. so you fold into yourself, accepting the haze with a keen because john’s fucking back into you.

it is still so utterly gentle, like love-making, and this makes you sob because the euphoria is dizzying and overwhelming. it is something you haven’t felt before—johnny fucks you like a man starved; john fucks you like he’s trying to meld himself into you. or you into him.

it is so drastically different, and you were made to navigate the changing tides. but you can’t, not when john—

“fuck!” you scream, thrashing in his hold, but john ignores your voice as his heavy hand falls on your cunt with consistent smacks.

you feel lightheaded, untethered, and this is what pushes you to the edge. your orgasm is cataclysmic. it’s like having the fabrics of your reality collide until you are a supernova, bright and burning and so, so, so ecstatic.

you don’t even know how you came down from that high, but when you wake up, john’s already pulled out and your thighs feel extra sticky. you sniffle, turning to accept the quick kiss he leaves on your cheek. he pulls away and you watch him sink back to the lone chair in your room, and only then do you realize he’s still in his uniform. still in the fatigues.

it makes you extra vulnerable somehow and you twist, trying to find anything to cover yourself with, but your shirt’s been thrown to the floor, far from your reach, and your blankets were kicked off the bed.

you grumble, shyness encroaching again now that there’s no one to monopolize your attention, but a movement from the corner of your eyes makes you jolt. you turn, forcing your eyes to focus, and you blink in surprise because you are sure that kyle wasn’t there before—close to your shelving that is stuffed with little knickknacks and souvenirs brought to you by the boys when they take on separate missions that don’t require your involvement.

the same shelving where you’ve plopped your charging vibrator on. the very same one that is being held up by kyle.

“kyle?” you ask, unable to say any more with how wrecked your voice has become. but the call echoes like a gunshot in the suddenly stifling room, and they all look at you as one. like it didn’t matter if kyle was the one holding the wand because they all knew what they want, and it is to see you be fucked with it.

excitement fills you up despite the throbbing exhaustion settling in your bones, and you wonder if they could scent it with the way the pressure in the room grows heavy, almost bladed—ice shards against still waters.

kyle moves towards you and your eyes track the wand, almost hypnotized by it, and watch as he drops it on the mattress to shuck off his clothes. it is only then do you turn to him, hungry in the way you devour how he moves, how he breathes, how he unbuckles his belt.

his trousers come first, then his shirt. kyle is a catastrophic wonder—seeing him naked like this makes your core throb, aching need stretching in the yawning of your stomach, because he is so beautiful, terrifyingly so.

he reaches for your waist and drags you so you’re laying on your back again, your legs sprawled out on either side of his hips. he looks down at you, his eyes crinkled in his smile. he looks so charming, boyish and youthful, and he makes you thrum with quiet desire because you feel safe even when you’re bare before him.

you feel particularly cherished, like you are the apple of his eye.

“you’ve been so good to us, love,” he murmurs, but in the silence of everyone, his voice bounces off the walls, seeping into where the others are, watching raptly once again.

you nod, not knowing what else to say. kyle chuckles, the sound trickling like quiet chimes, and you wonder if he’s doing this for you—talking to you in whispers to give your body time to come down from the tremors, or filling you up with something other than a cock because johnny had come in scathing, and john had pierced you with something consuming, and kyle—

kyle is trying to distract you.

you’ve forgotten about the toy, sitting there so innocently. it’s out of your reach, tucked preciously close to kyle’s left leg the way he treats all his smaller guns—never straying beyond his person, and hovering close. you’ve once asked him if it wasn’t more comforting to have it on him where he can feel its weight and kyle had looked at you with that soft smile like you’ve uttered something so delightful, before telling you, “there’s a certain pleasure in having it displayed.”

like a promise and an assurance—he will always be faster; the one who is more in control.

and today, kyle is treating the wand with the same vehemence.

you didn’t even know you were already shaking your head until kyle had cupped your cheek, quiet sounds of comfort rumbling from his chest.

“don’t worry,” he says, eyes blazing with a terrifying promise. “all good girls have to be rewarded.”

kyle doesn’t fuck you with his cock right away; instead, he’d bent over and took a nipple into his mouth. it makes you gasp, back arching at every wet suck. there is pleasure to derive, but it is so muted that you begin to settle back into your mattress, waiting, almost in bated breath because kyle has yet to reach for the wand.

you jolt when he finally uses his hands, stomach tensing in anticipation. but still, kyle doesn’t reach for it, and instead he swipes a finger to your slit. your pussy’s still so sensitive so it makes you buck, a sharp animalistic sound tearing from your throat, and kyle takes advantage of the sudden change in the pace.

he slips in two fingers in your cunt, curling to poke at your walls, before fucking them out—he lifts up and sucks your other nipple—and punching them back in. it’s a wet slide, each thwaps ring in your head, and you moan, clawing at kyle’s back because how could he make you feel good just like this?

it’s almost a laughable parallel—just an hour ago, you had been in the same position, with your legs parted open and two fingers fucking in, while your other hand flicks at your nipples because you had so desperately wanted any form of orgasm. god, it didn’t even need to feel ecstatic, just something that’d rip your aching need into quiet tides. and now here you are, spread open with kyle mirroring every flick of his fingers and every pinching sensation on your nipples, and he is making you feel good.

how dare he. how dare he give you unadulterated pleasure with just his fingers? how could you ever go back to masturbating now that he’s even triumphed over your previous failures, showing your body that there are ways to make your toes curl without a cock nor a toy?

how dare he—

“no!” you whine, circling your hand around his wrist when he pulls out. you were so close; its tendrils spreading all over your body in the wake of your encroaching orgasm. you thought you were going to be rewarded? kyle promised. he said so!

“oh, love,” kyle coos, breaking through the swirling turmoil in your head. “i’m not done yet, i promise.”

you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the sob that is lodged in your throat as you watch kyle give his cock a pump before lining it up with your cunt. unlike johnny and john—and the reminder that they’re there, with simon, makes you jolt for a quick second—kyle doesn’t press in slow nor gentle.

no.

kyle punches everything in. you scream, the sound guttural as you are filled so quickly and so deeply, leaving you to feel the sudden crescendo of your pleasure. your body spasmed—because there was nothing else that could explain the sensation of having all your synapses sing with a ripping pleasure—before you black out for a second.

you come to the feeling of kyle’s hand mapping your belly, digging just enough that his fingers dimple your skin. you are still stretched and stuffed, and the remnants of your pleasure fire up again.

he flicks his eyes up to you with a smile. “came so soon f’r me, love.”

your only response is a gurgle. it makes kyle laugh.

“that must mean y’r ready for something else, yeah?”

a confused whimper bubbles from your throat. kyle just snaps his hips in reply, rendering your mind shut again. you hear him shuffling against the sheets, his free hand reaching for something you cannot see, and you feel your mind pressing at its edges, trying to retrieve the memory of what it is he is looking for because you know what it is, you’re sure.

buzzing noises fill your ears, the sound ricocheting around the space, and your body locks, recollection slamming into you. you tear your gaze away from the far wall to look at kyle.

you wonder what your face must’ve looked like because kyle begins to croon.

“i’ve seen this from a homemade porn video.” he shrugs at the incredulous expression on your face. “and i’ve always wanted to try it because sweetheart, they didn’t press it on her clit.”

what—

kyle moves, his body rippling with ease. you don’t notice but the boys crowd in, interest bright in their eyes. only ghost continues to be rooted in his spot, and it is only his head tipping to the side that lets the others know he’s just as interested.

kyle presses the toy on your belly. your nose scrunches in displeasure because it just feels like you’re being massaged incorrectly, but he keeps shifting, hunting, and it’s weird because kyle’s still in you so what—

you gasp, eyes widening at the odd sensation. kyle freezes, his body curling into something predatory, and digs your wand there on your—

“no way,” johnny laughs, and you want to snarl at him to go away but you can’t because he’s right.

no way.

kyle had pressed the vibrating bulb of your toy just below your belly and slightly before your upper pelvic area—kyle had pressed the toy on your womb.

the pleasure is new, uncharted, and it is petrifying because you’ve never felt this way before. you didn’t even know it was possible to stimulate yourself there, but kyle’s already resuming the pace he’d set, fucking his cock in deeply almost like he wants to feel the buzz from within.

you begin to sob but the tears feel different this time. they’re still out of pleasure, but the swirling surprise melts the euphoria into something frightening. you don’t even realize you’ve begun to babble.

“no more!” you hiccup, weak fists thumping against kyle’s chest only to be restrained by john and johnny, each man pushing them down with their own hands.

everything feels too scary, all of a sudden. this pleasure of yours is bigger than you have ever expected and it’s building up too fast and too soon, and still, kyle remains unfazed.

“i’m scared! i’m scared, kyle please!”

your words turn into unintelligible warbles, and kyle just says how you are so adorable like this.

“y’r pussy’s going stir crazy, baby,” he croons amidst your tears and you want to scream at him, to be mad and say something mean, but you feel so utterly lost in the bubbling bliss.

it is something you’ve never felt before; it’s almost like you are relearning your body at this very moment—like kyle is unmaking you, and remodelling you, and you feel this cathartic bloating of your orgasm.

kyle sees the moment you succumbed to the enveloping terror of your euphoria, and it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment because he begins to fuck you faster. deeper. his pelvis meets the plush of your ass with every thrust, while he digs the toy further down your flesh.

how could the vibrations ripple past the fat, you don’t know, but your orgasm is building, peaking—

it breaks with another scream tearing from your lungs. this one is much stronger than the previous ones, and enveloping because it feels like your whole body has shut down in the wake of your release.

your mind splinters, your body falling limp like your strings have been cut loose, and kyle turns forgiving again because he shuts the toy down and throws it away. he pulls out and only then do you feel the trickle of his cum sliding out of you.

he leans in, brushing his nose over your cheek. then, “just one more, little bird.”

kyle slides off the bed, but so do john and johnny, and you hiccup, still sobbing, still floating from the world-shattering climax, when simon greets you.

he is quiet for a while, watching as you catch your breath. you couldn’t even stop yourself from sniffling, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes to stain your already blotchy cheeks. he grunts, hand falling to brush unimaginably soft touches across your body, observing.

waiting.

“was’it?” you finally bite out because you know simon—you know ghost—and there is something that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue that he so desperately wants to spit out.

simon grumbles, rolling his eyes.

you groan, growing impatient. “tell m’.”

but he still doesn’t talk, choosing instead to manhandle your body until it is close to him. you want to tell him to give you a minute; that you’re still so sore and tired, and kyle just fucked you mindless that you need a goddamn break, so, “s’mon, no…”

he grunts, palming along your waist, then your hips, before it stops on the fat of your ass. he grabs a handful.

“won’t you let me fuck this hole instead,” simon finally replies.

your heart lurches to your throat, and you’re not the only one surprised because johnny’s bounding in close, excited, chatting simon’s ear how he wants to go next, “please, LT?”

you want to tell him to ask you, not simon, but simon’s already giving his assent with a huff, chirping how johnny’s so impatient—a master and his dog—before they turn to you again.

it is only then do you realize that simon hadn’t been asking for proper permission; it was all formalities because he was not going to settle for anything that isn’t yes.

anal sex hasn’t been something you are really interested in; no amount of porn and online anecdotes can change your mind, but simon’s gaze is heavy. it’s final.

before you can even reply, john’s already throwing something to simon. he catches it with ease, and only when simon flicks his hand do you recognize it to be the lube you’ve chucked away in your anger when this whole night started. kyle returns with the wand.

you lay there, on simon’s lap, seeing them flanking you for this… corrupting.

“okay,” you muster, trying to stake even a semblance of control.

thankfully, they ignore the shaking of your fists or the way your chest begins to heave in your morbid anticipation. simon laughs, and swoops down to nip your cheek.

“good girl.”

whew whyd it become a long ramble of smut??? it was supposed to be a john n johnny centric fucking bc of the prelude but alas, i needed to write a semblance of dark!kyle so here we are <3

temp taglist bc yall are animals (affectionate)!!!: @getosuguswhore @slut-lmao @mxtokko @imjusthereforkonig @bratzdolly4 @mabelwinters @stars4sar @sergeant-jasper @spiceywawa @j0r-d1e

[loserboysandlithium]

The Pact: Eddie Munson One Shot

Summary: As children, you and Eddie made a pact to never cross that line. But as the two of you have grown it has become almost impossible to keep. You decide to make a new pact instead. ;)

Explicit sexual content, Minors DNI, word count 3k, moved over from my old account 🖤

*******

"Eddie!" you knock loudly on the door of his trailer. His van is here so he's gotta be home.

"Eds?!" you try again, banging on the door even louder.

He's probably still sleeping. The boy doesn't wake up earlier than noon, especially on a Saturday.

You close the screen door and make your way around the trailer to his window. It's cracked slightly and the smell of weed immediately hits your nose, making you smile. He's up.

You push up on the old window, listening to the squeak as it struggles to move. "Eddie!" you shout through the crack. Again, no response.

You roll your eyes as you use all your strength to lift the window enough to crawl through. You climb in head first and tumble onto his floor. As you sit up, your eyes adjust to the dim room. You see him lying on his back on the floor, headphones on his ears, his fingers tapping away as he listens to the music.

No shirt, his tattoos on full display. Hair pulled back into a messy bun, loose curls sticking out everywhere. A pair of dark green flannel pajama pants hanging low on his waist.

Fuck, he looks good.

You watch as he brings his fingers to his lips, inhaling on the joint, releasing a cloud of smoke into the air. You tiptoe across the floor, hearing the tune of 'Dirty Women' by Black Sabbath coming from the headset as you lean over him.

His already round eyes widen even more as he sits up quickly, his head slamming into yours.

"Shit! Are you okay?" he shouts over the music still blasting in his ears. You reach out with one hand removing his headphones, leaving them dangling around his neck as you rub your forehead with your other.

"Easy Tiger." you giggle and he gives you a crooked grin. His eyes are glossed over and slightly red from his activities.

"Sorry, didn't hear you comin.” he explains, pointing towards the earphones.

"Yeah, I got that.” you smile, shoving his shoulder lightly as he scoots a little closer to you.

"Thought you were coming by tonight?" he raises an eyebrow as he stands up, holding his hand out to you. You grab his hand and he pulls you from the ground.

"My shift got canceled and I was bored." you shrug, reaching out for the joint in his hand.

"I have an idea.” Eddie says suddenly, his brown glinting. You inhale deeply on the joint and wait for him to continue. He stands there silently, eyes zoning in on your chest.

"Eddie!" you smack him upside the head bringing him out of his daze and he shakes his wild hair.

“Sorry.. I'm high." he shrugs with a little wiggle of his brows.

"Your idea?" you push.

"Right.. the clubhouse. Let's hotbox." A slick smile spreads on his pretty lips. Every time you're together, you have to fight the urge to kiss him. To touch him. To beg him to touch you.

You had both made a pact. An oath. You were best friends. You couldn't cross that line. But now.. every year it gets harder and harder to keep it.

I wonder if he feels the same.

"Hello?” Eddie snaps his fingers in front of your face teasingly.

"Mhmm.. yeah. Let's go." you grin at him and his smile widens. He walks over to his nightstand, swiping up his little lunchbox.

You make your way outside, following the familiar trail into the woods behind the trailer park. You used to come here all the time together. Staying up, eating bags of candy and telling scary stories until Wayne would come and drag you both out.

You reach the rickety ladder leading high into the trees and glance over at Eddie, a nervous look on your face.

"When's the last time you've been up here? It looks... well, it looks like we're gonna die if we attempt this."

"Oh, we're fine. Come on. You first." he encourages, his hand landing on your waist. The small touch sends tingles down your spine.

"Why do I have to go first?" you groan, grabbing hold of the wooden plank.

"That way I can catch you if you fall." he explains, keeping his hand resting gently on your side. You take a deep breath and begin your climb.

"Shit!" you squeal as your foot slips on the third step and you fall into Eddie, his free hand lands on your ass, holding you up.

"Oops." you laugh, turning to peek at Eddie. His hand remains in place making you blush.

“Eds?" you nod towards his hand and he just smiles.

"Total accident, sweetheart. Swear." he cheeses. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. He's flirting. Shit, no... He always flirts. It's just friendly banter. Normal for the two of you. But is that all it is? Fuck.

You continue up the ladder, Eddie following close behind until you reach the top. You push the Spider-Man sheet to the side and crawl into the small treehouse. Everything looks about the same. A few new additions since the last time you've been here.

An ashtray sits in the corner, a stack of playboy and hustler magazines sprawled out, some empty beer bottles.

"Eddie Munson.." you giggle, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

Eddie plops on the dusty floor reaching out and snagging one of the magazines. "What? A man has needs."

"Ew." you joke, grabbing his lunchbox, plopping a pre rolled joint between your lips.

"What? You don't uh, take care of yourself?"

The question catches you off guard. But even more than that, his tone. It was much deeper than before. You hope your cheeks aren't as red as they feel as you meet his gaze. You light the joint, inhaling deeply, holding the smoke in your lungs a moment before exhaling.

"No, I do." you whisper, taking another toke.

Eddie watches you curiously, scooting a little closer to you in the already cramped space.

"You gonna share?" he winks at you, making your heart flutter. He's so close. All I want is to taste him. To finally give in.

"Hey, you okay?" Eddie nudges you playfully with his foot, shaking you from your thoughts. You nod sitting up on your knees in between his sprawled legs. You bring the joint to his lips and his eyes lock on yours as he inhales slowly.

You inch closer, the slight buzz from the weed making you more confident.

"Are you about to kiss me?" Eddie blurts making you pause.

"What? No!” you snort shoving his chest hard, making him fall back to the dirty floor. He coughs, the smoke filling his lungs coming out in small spurts as you move back to your spot against the wall, feeling a wild mix of emotions.

He scrambles to get back up, immediately coming to sit in front of you again. “I- uh- I wasn't gonna stop you.. if you were going to... ya know?" he mumbles under his breath.

You meet his big brown eyes, the same eyes you've looked into for years and years. There was no mistaking it. They were darker. Full of hunger. A hunger for you.

Shit.. say something. Anything. Your mind goes blank. Every part of you wanting to just kiss him.

The other part of you worried about your friendship. The whole reason the two of you made the pact.

"The pact.” you breathe.

Eddie speaks next, leaning back slightly, twisting one of his rings on his finger.

"Who do you think about when you touch yourself?" he burns lowly, his eyes searching your face.

"What?”

"Who do you think about?" he asks again, his eyes remain locked on yours.

You. Always you.

You shrug instead, keeping your thoughts to yourself.

Eddie nods slowly, taking another long puff off the joint before handing it your way. The small area was already cloudy with smoke as you both continue to add to the haze.

"It's not like we made a blood oath or something."

Eddie says after a few minutes. Both of you now feeling the effects of the high.

"We literally made a blood oath." you argue, a smile on your lips as you think back to the two of you pricking your fingers with a thumb tack.

"We were thirteen." Eddie pushes back, moving over so he's sitting right next to you. You can feel his body warmth radiating against your side. When you turn his face is only inches from yours.

"Where is this coming from?" you whisper.

"I just.. fuck, I don't know. Just, look at you." Eddie breathes out, his words making your entire body warm.

"Who do you think about?" you ask suddenly.

"I don't know what you mean." he grins widely, forcing you to ask him directly.

"When you touch yourself.. do you just think about those girls in the magazine?"

"Sometimes.. sometimes I think of someone else." he hints as his hand gradually makes its way to your thigh.

"Me?" you swallow hard, barely pushing the word out.

"Do you think about me?" he challenges, his hand resting heavily on your upper thigh.

"Yes." you admit. You knew it wasn't the drugs.

You've always wanted Eddie. But the buzz was allowing you to finally speak your truth.

You can tell he's happy with your answer, his face lighting up. His brown eyes gleaming.

"Show me."

"I don't under-'

"Show me what you do when you think about me." he cuts you off swiftly.

Holy shit. Your mind fills with wild thoughts as you take what he said into consideration. You can feel yourself throbbing at the thought. Touching yourself in front of him. Eddie's eyes watching you as you bring yourself to your peak. Would he touch himself too?

Before you can change your mind you guide your hands into your shorts, listening as Eddie inhales sharply.

"Fuck." he exhales, watching carefully as your hand meets your warmth under the material of your shorts. You close your eyes, worried that if you see him you might overthink everything.

Right now it just felt good. So good.. and you know he's watching.

"I close my eyes." you start, slowly rubbing circles around your clit. Eddie hums in response, waiting for you to keep going.

"And I see your face. I-I think about how your lips would feel.. your tongue. the sounds you would make..." you moan as you slip two fingers inside, feeling your arousal.

"What else?" Eddie rasps, his lips suddenly against your ear, his voice makes you speed up your fingers.

"I think about how you would feel inside me.. if you would be rough.. if you would.. ohh.. if you would make me scream."

"I promise I could make you scream." Eddie burns. You feel his fingers on your chin, turning you to face him. Your eyes drift open and Eddie presses his forehead against yours as you work your fingers in and out of your soaked pussy.

"I think about your fingers a lot... your rings.. I pretend my hands are yours.." you whimper, feeling yourself on the edge but not quite there.

You don't want your fingers. You want his.

"Eddie."

"You gonna cum, sweetheart?"

"I want you.. I want you to make me cum.." you whine desperately, only seconds away from your orgasm.

"Yeah?" he pants breathlessly.

"Please." you beg. He wastes no time reaching into your shorts, you remove your fingers just in time for his to replace them. His slender fingers immediately reach exactly where you need them to, curling with precision, stroking across your g spot making you cum instantly.

"Yes! Oh fuck!" you cry, your muscles pulsing around his fingers, Eddie watches in awe as you fall apart beneath his hand.

"Holy fuck.” Eddie groans deeply, slowly working you through your orgasm.

You grab him, slamming your lips into his pulling a moan from him instantly. He leans in, his body pressing you down to the floor as you tangle your hands in his hair.

Fuck.

He tastes like weed and Camel Blues as his tongue greets yours hungrily. You both kiss sloppily, soaking up this moment. After all these years, both of you finally getting what you want.

Clothes are torn off. No more hesitation as you both paw at each other, kissing and biting, the eagerness apparent from both of you. Moans and the sound of messy kisses fill the room.

"Fuck me." you plead with him as your bodies grind together, skin on skin, so close together.

"We need a new pact." he pants breathlessly, lining himself up.

"Mhmm." you moan, feeling his tip start to stretch you out.

"The new pact is that You're mine." he moans as he thrusts himself in, entering you fully, a filthy cry raining from your lips.

"I'm yours." you whimper, your fingernails digging into his back as he begins to pump in and out of you.

"We have to seal it, sweetheart." he mumbles drunkenly, picking up his pace. His size is unlike anything you've had before, your legs already shaking slightly, a tinge of pain mixed with the beautiful pleasure.

"What do you- oh!" you gasp as his teeth sink into your bottom lip just hard enough to break the skin. You feel the trickle of warm liquid dribble down your chin.

"Shit." you breathe out before returning the favor, taking Eddie's plump lip between your teeth and tugging roughly making him growl as he slams his cock into you.

"Goddamn, baby.” he groans, kissing your lips, gliding his tongue inside. A metallic taste fills your mouth as your tongues swirl together wildly, your blood mixing together in your kiss.

"Call me baby again." you whimper, rolling your hips, grinding on his big cock. He feels so fucking good.

Eddie chuckles bringing his lips to your ear as he fucks you powerfully. His cock glides in and out of your slickness, the sounds loud in the quiet of the woods.

"You like being my baby?" he murmurs in your ear.

"Yes!”

"You feel so fucking good.. so fucking good." he praises, entering you deeply with every snap of his hips. Your head falls to the wooden floor as your back begins to arch.

"There we go, sweetheart." Eddie hums approvingly as your thighs begin to tremble.

He keeps himself buried deep, rolling into you, his thick cock filling you to the brim. He thrusts into you precisely, finding your sweet spot making your toes curl.

"Eddie! R-right there!" you whine, the pleasure of someone fucking you right for the first time was unlike anything you'd felt before. You didn't know sex could feel this good.

"Gonna take care of you, sweetheart.. I got you." Eddie reassures, keeping his pace, in and out, in and out.

His lips lock onto your neck sucking harshly. You grip the back of his head, holding him to you, the feeling of his lips sucking your skin felt delicious. His fingers meet your clit, quickly rubbing circles on the sensitive nub, making your eyes roll.

"Please don't stop... I think.. I think I'm gonna..”

"Cum for me, beautiful.” Eddie demands in your ear, sending you over the edge. You pull his hair roughly as your body jolts upward, your pussy clenching around him, spasm after spasm as you flood his cock.

"E-Eddie! Ohh my god.. f-fuck!" you practically scream, Eddie loving every second of you writhing beneath him. Watching as you make a mess of his cock. You can feel your cum coating your thighs as he continues to pound into you.

His hands tangle in your hair as his lips meet yours feverishly. Your entire body is overwhelmed as you cling to him, it's almost too much but you don't want it to end. He lifts your leg onto his shoulder, the new angle making you gasp.

"You're so fucking hot." Eddie moans, the sounds coming from him are everything you imagined they'd be. Even better.

"We're gonna cum together." Eddie orders as he leans down, taking your leg with him, his hard cock somehow reaching deeper.

"Together.” you whimper, feeling him stretch you out again and again. He speeds up, slamming into you wildly, your legs shake as you grasp for him, wanting him to be as close as possible. He leans down even more, you feel the strain of your leg muscles as he bends you in ways unknown to you before.

He sinks his teeth into your neck making your eyes roll to the back of your head as your nails claw at his back, sending red streaks across his tattoos.

"Gonna cum…. wanna cum inside you.." he mumbles, his hips moving at an insane pace.

"Cum inside me, baby." you moan, completely losing all sense of anything but him as he fucks you senseless. A few more hard thrusts and you feel his cock twitch, his warm cum spilling into you as he moans your name.

"Fucking Christ." he laughs breathlessly as he collapses on top of you. Both of you lay there silently, your chests rising and falling rapidly as you come down from your high. You run your fingers through his curls as he rests his head on your chest.

After a few minutes you hear the crunching of leaves below you causing you both to sit up suddenly.

"Edward!" Wayne's voice calls from below.

"Shit."

"Come down here and eat your damn dinner.. 20 years old and still playing in a damn treehouse." Wayne mumbles as you hear his footsteps heading back through the woods.

You both look at each other and burst out laughing.

"Dinner, m'lady?" Eddie smirks, rounding up your clothes.

"Dinner sounds perfect.” you smile at him, feeling happier than you’ve ever felt.

[sierra-r-a-e]

you were the only one who could get the strongest sorcerer down on his knees like this. “please, princess. let me get just one taste of this pretty pussy~” he’d say, getting down onto his knees, his hands dragging along your sides as he goes.

once you finally agreed to let him taste the most private part of you, his face immediately lit up. satoru quickly got to work pushing, pulling, and tugging on whatever articles of clothing were standing in the way of his needy, watering mouth getting to your pussy.

he took a moment to admire your already glistening folds before he buried his face in your cunt. your hands immediately went to his hair, softly tugging on the silky strands in order to ground yourself from the immense pleasure.

you gently brushed the stray hairs out of his face, watching as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man, his tongue delving deep into your hole before coming back up to circle your clit, sucking on the nub and letting go with a lewd ‘pop’.

he hiked your leg up over his shoulder in order to get a better angle. your hips automatically began to buck into him, making your clit bump against his nose oh so perfectly.

“that’s it, baby, ride my face just like that-” he says breathlessly before diving right back in to your sweetness.

you felt one of his long fingers circle your sopping entrance before gently pushing into you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. he created a rhythm with his tongue licking and sucking your clit, and his finger curling into your g spot. he soon added another finger, your knees nearly buckled from the amazing feeling.

overwhelmed with pleasure, your hands tugged on his hair, causing him to let out a low moan against your core. his cock was straining against his pants, desperately aching to be freed from its confines. though, he didn’t care about that, all he cared about was giving you the most jaw-dropping, toe-curling pleasure you’d ever experienced.

and that he did.

the way his tongue flicked against your sensitive nub sent small electric jolts throughout your body, not to mention the two fingers he had pumping in and out of you. all of the sensations he was giving you came together so amazingly, it was almost scary.

you clenched around his fingers as you neared your release, moaning his name as you practically humped his face. “that’s it, pretty girl, come on my face-” he said, his beautiful blue eyes watching your pleasured expressions as he ate and fingered your cunt.

your orgasm washed over you in harsh waves, nearly drowning you with the sudden, intense feelings of euphoria. your legs shook and you would’ve collapsed if it weren’t for satoru’s free arm holding you up securely.

he continued his ministrations on you, prolonging your orgasm. his tongue and fingers eventually slowed down to a stop, and his fingers gently pulled out of you, strings of slick still connecting him to you.

he made direct eye contact with you as he brought the two digits up to his mouth, engulfing them in the plush warmth and sucking the arousal off of them. he closed his pretty blue eyes with a groan at the taste of you, despite having just pressed his face against the source for a good while.

[reidrum]

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

A/N: if i stared at this any longer it would never see the light of day...so here she is! this is the longest fic i've ever written and i'm kinda gagged about that but i really hope you like it and if you don't that's okay too this is just silly angsty brainrot anyways thanks for reading this my inbox is open if you wanna yap more summary: in which your kidnapping forces you and spencer to face the fallout following your recently ended relationship cw: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is kidnapped/held hostage, implications and mentions of SA to reader but nothing happens, cm type violence, ex!spencer, lowkey lovers to enemies back to lovers, cat adams, medical jargon, miscommunication trope, the bau team is family, afab!reader, pet names wc: 5.1k

Every case you and Spencer have been on has been insufferable for the rest of the team since your falling out, if it had to be given a name. Everyone always had to deal with your constant bickering and harsh words. It was the same in every case, a difference of opinions that led to incessant fighting between you two, Hotch would have to separate you both and use your joint intelligence separately for the sake of keeping everyone alive.

This last case was nothing different, a serial killer in Athens, Georgia who was religiously sacrificing young women in the name of a cult. Both of you fighting over what you believed the other to be wrong about in their part for solving the case. Spencer thought the unsub would have struck in a zone closer to his home, you assumed he was only going after women who resembled someone in his life. The real problem was that you were both wrong.

And it ended with you being held hostage.

It all happened so fast. You were in the car with Spencer and Rossi driving out to the unsub’s house to check for new evidence when you had stopped at a gas station about 15 miles out from the house to refuel. Rossi got out of the car to pump the gas, Spencer sat in the passenger seat, and you went inside to use the bathroom and grab a quick snack.

You quickly washed your hands after finishing in the bathroom and wiped your hands on your pants, still slightly damp as you turn the handle of the door. As you’re perusing the aisle looking for a snack, you can feel the presence of watchful eyes on you. Casually, you slowly look up and around at the source and clock a figure an aisle over with a cap turned downward blocking their face. 

Your gut was sending flares up, telling you that danger was near. You nonchalantly walk over to the aisle he’s in, pretending to look at the nuts and dried fruits while attempting to get a look at his face. In a (maybe not so) bright idea, you think to knock a bag of nuts on the floor next to the lurker’s feet in the hopes he’ll bend down to pick it up for you.

With a push of your hand, the bag knocks off the shelf and onto the floor and you both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m such a clutz.”

“No problem at all, Miss—.” He stops talking all of a sudden, you’re unsure why. You follow his gaze to your left hip where your FBI credentials are peaking out.

Shit.

He draws a weapon faster than you’re able to react with getting your own out, and by the time yours is out the barrel of his is flush with your forehead.

“Drop it.”

You quickly recognize the man as your unsub, miles away from his hunting ground and about to stray from his victimology with you.

“Come on, up. We’re going for a little ride.” He snarls, glancing outside at the black SUV with your colleagues. He grabs you by a hairful and drags you out the back door, shooting the gas station clerk before making the escape with you to his pickup truck. You’re shoved against the car door, back facing him, as he place a zip tie on your wrists and opens the door to sit you in the back seat. The unsub gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, glaring at you through the rear view mirror, “I’m gonna have fun with you, fed.”

Meanwhile, back in the car Rossi stands at the pump waiting for the tank to fill and Spencer remains in the car looking over the case details once more. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, but can’t place his finger on it. He looks over the details again meticulously, searching for a fault anywhere in your, or even his own logic. Rossi closes the tank and hops back in the car, “She’s not back yet?” he pondered.

Spencer hadn’t even realized you weren’t back yet, “I guess not,” something wasn’t right, “She went ten minutes ago right?”

Rossi nods, opening his mouth to speak when a gunshot coming from the gas station cuts him off. The men look at each other, eyes widened and rush out of the car, weapons drawn.

“FBI!” Rossi enters, looking for any sign of you but coming up empty. Spencer takes note of the disheveled store, produce and cans lying astray. He steps around the mess to find an out of place bag of sour gummy worms on the floor in the middle of an aisle only filled with nuts and dried fruit. 

Sour gummy worms were your favorite.

A sinking feeling settles in Spencer as he tries to fight the reality his brain is trying to tell him. He looks to Rossi with a pained expression, and Rossi matches it back.

“He took her.”

___

The next few hours are a blur for Spencer.

Rossi called the team to meet them at the gas station, already telling Garcia to hack into the security cameras to find any clue of where he’d taken you. Emily and Derek were checking out the crime scene, Hotch and Rossi talking to the sheriff. JJ finds Spencer staring off onto the one road connected to the station.

“We’re gonna find her, Spence.”

He whips his head up at the sound of her voice, “I should’ve realized sooner. I knew there was something off about his MO, a—and I just couldn’t place it. And now she’s gone and it’s all my fault and I never—“

“Spencer,” JJ interrupts softly, “You couldn’t have known. None of us did, even her.”

“I should have,” he laments, “And if she…if something happens to her because I wasn’t paying attention…” He trails off, too afraid of what his brain thinks is the ending of the sentence.

JJ offers him a sympathetic look, understanding the conflicting emotions, “We’ll find her, she’s strong. You know that.”

He stares back at her hoping, praying, that she’s right and you’re going to be okay. You have to be.

He’s pulled out of his head by Morgan calling him and JJ over, telling Garcia on the phone to repeat her findings.

“Okay, I think I have a lead based on the security camera footage on the car he has and where it’s been last seen. I’m sending the last known coordinates to your phones now.” 

An idea springs to him, “Garcia, can you also check the gas station records and see how much he filled his tank?”

The clacking sounds of her keyboard ring through the phone before she speaks again, “He didn’t fill a full tank, only like, fifteen miles worth of gas.”

Everyone looks up at each other in realization of what the new information means. You had to be close by. Morgan walks over to tell Hotch, who immediately talks to a state ranger about setting up a 15 mile radius around the gas station with monitored roadblocks, no entry or exit without inspection. 

After Hotch finishes he walks back to Spencer and lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good job, Reid,” He nods back with a thin lipped smile and fiddles with his pen anxiously, “Are you okay?”. Spencer can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking him or if he’s asking him for the sake of him being able to do his job properly considering the circumstances. Ever the profiler that man is, he thinks.  He nods again nonetheless and walks over to meet Derek at the car.

Spencer and Derek get into the car and set the route for the coordinates Garcia gave, ETA 14 minutes. He swallows nervously, do you even have 14 minutes? What if he’s too late? What if you’re not even there? What if he never got to tell you—

“Reid. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Derek raises his eyebrows as he glances at his friend, “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, man.”

“I’m not lying.” Even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Spencer—“

“I’m just worried! Okay? We’re all worried, it’s not a big deal.” he snaps.

Derek stops at a red light and looks over the console, “I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” guilt sweeps over Spencer’s face as he continues, “I’m not stupid kid, I know how you’re feeling. But you can’t let whatever turmoil you got in that big brain of yours affect this case. Not now.”

“I know that, Morg—“

“No, you don’t. I know you’re thinking about her, we all are. And we all want—need—her to be okay too. We will find her, but we can’t let the unsub get away too.”

Spencer sighs outwardly seeing the truth in his words. As concerned as he was about you he needed to remember this was still an active case. He couldn't let your past with each other cloud his judgement, even if the fallout still haunts him every day of his life. He needs to save you, but he also has a job to do. He just wasn’t sure if he’d remember that when they finally found you.

——

A pounding in your head stirs you awake, the bitter taste of metal flooding your senses as you come to. You blink a few times adjusting to the lowlights of the unfamiliar environment, hoping to find something distinguishable to ground you back to reality. It doesn’t help once you realize the blood crusted over your eye is the reason for your obscured vision. You attempt to rub it off on your shoulder ignoring the sharp pains shooting up from the abrasive contact. 

Once you think you’ve cleared enough you blink a few more times registering your surroundings to be a house, a cabin more accurately. Your memory is a little fuzzy as you try to recount what happened before you were knocked out cold.

Gas station. Unsub. Unsub at the gas station? But where was I…I went to the bathroom… and was getting…gummy worms?… But Rossi and Spencer were just outside… now I’m here…so does that means the unsub—

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

You jolt at the voice—the unsub you’ve come to remember—and you realize your hands are tied up behind your back, quickly coming to the second realization that you are rendered both injured and immobile.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say hoarsely after a minute.

He chuckles, “I didn’t know they made them so pretty at the academy…” he walks over and kneels in front of you, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb to move your head, “They probably kept you around for…entertainment right?”

You whip your head, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh, you’re feisty. That’s good, keep it up. Makes this more fun.” he walks back over to the table and fiddles with something, you can’t really tell from the floor, “So how’d they make it work back in—what is it called—Quantico! They take turns with you or? There’s so many of y’all, probably had a system.”

The pounding in your head makes it more difficult to process anything he’s saying, “The hell are you talking about, take turns with what?” you ask, wincing through another wave of pain.

He turns around holding a metal rod and walks over, angling the rod under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his as he snarls, “I can’t wait to see how it feels to fuck a federal whore.”

All the color drains from your face and you kick into whatever gas is left in your autopilot. Your feet are flailing in every direction, body thrashing violently to prevent Jason from getting a good grip on you. You quickly learn the purpose of the metal rod hearing the clang! first, a millisecond passing before the pain and threat of unconsciousness spreads through your brain. 

The hit takes you out long enough for him to pin you down on the floor, the weight of his body landing on you before the metal rod goes for your limbs. It’s then you realize the throes of death have wrangled you for what appears to be the last time, and it’s probably wise to start saying—thinking— your final words.

To my parents, I love you. To Derek and Penelope, thank you for letting me third wheel with you. Emily, I’ll miss our weekend Sin City excursions. JJ, please give your boys the biggest hug from their favorite aunt. Rossi and Hotch, you always cared for me like I was your own—I am so grateful for you.

And Spencer…Oh, Spencer. How I hoped I would have the time to say I’m sorry for what happened, I hope you’ll forgive me in due time. I wish I told you that nothing about us ever changed for me. You were and will always be, My Spencer, I just wish I could tell you one more time how much I lov—“

“FBI, Drop your weapon!”

A clattering sound of something dropping rings directly next to your ear and the weight that was on you alleviates at the same time. You groan out and instinctively curl up on yourself, the pain spreading throughout your body. The sensory overload is so much you don’t hear the approaching figure crouching next to you.

“Hey Hey Hey,” Spencer stutters, quickly making work of the ties on your hands and holding you gently as he lays your head on his lap cradling you close, trying to hide the forming tears when he hears your whimpers of pain, “You’re okay, it’s okay. The medic’s coming.” He looks back to where the unsub was and watches Derek put him in cuffs, nodding at Spencer before walking out with Jason.

“…Spencer?” you whisper out weakly. You think you’re dreaming honestly, that in the wake of death you learn heaven isn’t a place but only his arms.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” he chokes out looking back down at your bruised face. He’s unsure how you still look angelic even when you’re hurt, but it doesn’t surprise him that you do. You were always good at defying the laws of nature, he prayed it extended to your immortality.

“It hurts.” you pout pathetically.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes gently, “I know it does, honey I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers tearfully.

You cough out and whimper in pain, “I’m sorry too.”

Spencer shakes his head vehemently, “No, don’t apologize. Don’t do that, just keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

The tiredness soon wins and your eyes flutter close. Before Spencer can even panic and beg you to open them again the medic finally comes and asks him—pulls him— to move so they can start working on you.

He reluctantly backs up and watches on with glossed over eyes, barely registering all the things they were sticking in you to wake you up. The medics stabilize your neck with a C-SPINE and lift you onto the gurney, wheeling you back to the ambulance. The same medic who asked Spencer to move comes up to him again, “We’re taking her to Georgetown Medical, you’re allowed to ride in the back with us if you want.”

You slowly come to again on the gurney and Spencer meets your open eyes before you even realize they’re on you. Without hesitation he says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

The medic team lifts your gurney inside the rig, and right before Spencer gets in he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Hotch, “You’ll be okay?” 

It’s a loaded question. He’s not asking if Spencer is okay at this moment, because it doesn’t take a profiler to see that he’s the farthest from it. He says it as a grounding reminder knowing how Spencer gets about you. It didn’t matter to the team if you both fell out, the pair of you never faltered in your subconscious for each other. Both of your actions always moved faster than your brains, especially when it involved the other. 

That’s what worried his Unit Chief.

He nods and Hotch gives his shoulder a light squeeze, “Keep us updated,” the concern clearly etched in his eyes breaking through his usual stoicism as he looks inside the rig, “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Under the bright lights of the ambulance he’s—unfortunately—able to really take inventory of the injuries you sustained. The blue and black bruising scattered your limbs, the congregation of it on your stomach telling him you have at least two broken ribs. His eyes trail further down your body before abruptly stopping, but not on an appendage.

Spencer’s face pales even further than it already has staring at the glint on the undone button of your trousers shining in the reflection of the light.

If they didn’t get there when they did…If he got to you a second later…He can’t even fathom to think about what would’ve happened.

He’s broken out of his spiral by the EMT sitting next to him offering a tissue, which is when Spencer feels the tear and snot streaks rolling down his face. He takes it and wipes his face mindlessly before muttering, “Can I just…” hands reaching out to you before his words come out. Spencer doesn’t notice the EMT tearing up as he gently buttons your pants.

——

You were a fighter.

At least, that’s what the doctors told Spencer when they came and updated him in the waiting room. He blanks out for most of the conversation, eyes unfocusing and ears on low lest your name be spoken.

“She’s stable and awake now, the nurse can take you back to see her.”

He shakes his head to recenter and mutters a thank you before following the nurse through the double white doors. His senses are heightened as he walks closer to your room. The scuff of his shoes on the linoleum floors, the pedantic beeping of machines in the rooms he passes, until he hears the only voice that’s ever been enough to calm the warzone in his mind.

“Hi, Spence.”

His feet move on their own accord right next to your bedside, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. He’s silent for the first couple minutes, just a faint sniffle here and there before he takes a seat near your bed and hears you speak again.

“You can touch me, Spence. I won’t break more than I already am.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides quickly, “It’s not a joke.”

“Well, someone should be the comedic relief here.”

He lays the tips of his fingers right on top of the tips of yours, “You could have died.”

Your face softens, “I didn’t though.”

“You could have.”

“Spencer—“

“Stop down playing it. You don’t know what it was like finding you like that.”

“I mean I have some idea, ‘cause like, I was there.” 

Spencer deadpans at your poor attempt at lightening the mood, a faint smile peaking through while he shakes his head, “Insufferable even at your deathbed.”

“Yeah, the Grim Reaper heard me yapping and said ‘keep her’.”

He chuckles softly as his hand moves further up to rest the front of his palm on the back of your hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve…been better. The doctor said one of my broken ribs punctured an artery, a big one apparently,” you flip your hand over so both of your palms are touching but not laced, you softly continue, “Told me I was lucky I came in when I did. Any later the internal bleeding would’ve spread to my lungs.”

Spencer feels the tears springing again and a lump forming in his throat, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” the pet name slipping out before he could realize, “I should’ve gotten there sooner, or realized something was wrong at the gas station.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. You saved my life.” your fingers intertwine with his and squeeze with whatever strength you can muster, which isn’t a lot and it makes his heart clench tighter. “I’m here.”

He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked in, “You’re here.”

“I didn’t forget what you promised me when we…broke up,” God you wish it didn’t sound so terminable as it did, “I knew you’d find me. You always do.”

Another sniffle leaves him as he rubs his thumb soothingly on your hand, “I always do…Look, there’s something I need to tell you—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Penelope & Company burst into your room bearing balloons, chocolates, and many, many stuffies.

“How’s our girl doing?” Penelope huffs, hauling an entire Hallmark catalog worth of gifts in tow.

“She’s doing fine, Penny.” you chuckle lightly, trying your best to hide the wince of pain from your side, “You did not need to do all this.”

“Nonsense, everyone knows bear stuffies are the real medicine of the world.” she gleefully ignores the nurse onlookers, “I also brought you this, of special request by someone who shall not be named.” From her back she produces a bag of your favorite candy—sour gummy worms. A fact that you knew only one person was privy to.

You act surprised nonetheless, “My favorite! Thank you, Penny. And all of you, for coming to see my crippled self.”

Spencer watches the team take turns doting on you. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit with you for about four Gilmore Girls episodes—another lost relic of modern medicine, according to Penny—after which Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch keep you company for a little bit before bidding you good night with forehead kisses and well wishes. Spencer stays with you the whole time, never once leaving your side. 

You are so loved, he thinks. He didn’t realize how much he liked watching you be loved. It makes him miss the times when he could do that for you too.

——

Weeks pass since the day of your kidnapping. You still find it weird to call it that, even though it’s literally what happened. You’ve been on house arrest—bed rest—begrudgingly, and while Penelope’s very glittery visiting schedule has kept you entertained, it’s been hard when the only person you really wanted to see has refused to come visit since you left the hospital.

You’ve asked Penelope why Spencer hasn’t come, and all she can offer you is a sad smile and a ‘He said something come up sweetie, sorry.’. Texting him seemed even more daunting, more because you weren’t about to beg for his attention if he obviously doesn’t want you to have it. 

The doorbell steals your attention and you glance over at the schedule before you walk over to open it, not expecting a visitor at this time.

Spencer looks up from his shoes hearing the door open, “Hey.”

A minute passes, “Why are you here?” you ask bluntly.

He looks confused, “I came to check on you, brought you takeout from the Indian place you like.” The food in his hand smells heavenly but you can’t seem to enjoy it yet without getting an answer.

“Why are you here, now?” you ask again with an addendum.

He either really wants to piss you off or his ear blew out on the way over but he chooses to ignore you and enter your apartment, “You having nightmares again?”

“What? No…” you lie poorly, straightening up your back, “Just tired.”

He chuckles, “Good to know you’re still a terrible liar. Did you know you wear Doctor Who shirts when you’re feeling anxious?”

Your brows fuddle in confusion but he elaborates, “It’s probably subconscious, something you find comforting and naturally gravitate to in times of distress. It’s a normal stress response but…you’re wearing an Eleventh Doctor shirt.” My Eleventh Doctor shirt, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you feign.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he nods, “But you are anxious aren’t you?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on, why are you here, really?” your eyes narrow, arms crossing defensively.

“I told you, I came to check on you.”

“You just woke up this morning and decided it was convenient for you to see me today?” Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You stare at him with tearful eyes and the emotion spills out of you before you can stop it. You speak again after a few moments, voice barely above a whisper, “You left me. Again.”

He tilts his head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you grit out, “You were rooted at my bedside the entire time I was hospitalized, and the second I was discharged you were nowhere to be found. I thought, maybe with Penny’s schedule you’d come by, but then I came to find out that you didn’t even put your name down.”

“You almost died!” he retorts, “You almost died, because I made a mistake and you got hurt because of it!”

“So, that gives you the right to abandon me for the second time?”

“I didn’t…” he sighs out roughly, “I didn’t abandon you. I just, couldn’t…face you.” Face you, in pain, as a result of his actions.

“Is that what happened the first time you left?” you bite back.

His eyes steel over, “That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You know why I left.”

“I don’t think I do, Spencer—”

“I left because I was putting you in danger!” he yells cutting you off, “I left because loving you meant dragging you into all the messed up stuff that happens to me, stuff that’ll keep happening to me.”

Tobias. Mexico. Cat.

A single tear rolls down your face, “That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. We work the same damn job, the risks are the same if we’re together or not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then fucking enlighten me, Spencer.”

He stares at you, fighting an internal battle of whether he was really willing to admit his truth to you, one that he knows you deserved to know but wasn’t sure if it would put you more in harm's way.

“Cat had details about your family.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. Your face drops, “Wh—What?”

His eyes dart around the room nervously, “After I got out of Millburn and we went to see Cat, she was trying all these tactics to get me to break. I was doing fine, until she started talking about you. She was saying things that only you told me, stuff that’s not even on record.”

You remember that day. You were supposed to go with him and JJ to the correctional facility but ended up stuck at the BAU because your skill set was more valuable in helping Penelope locate Mr. Scratch. You remember how he came back to you that day, distant and glassed over. It was easy to chalk up his behavior following it to his recent release, but when you woke up a few weeks later to an empty bed and a throwaway note saying ‘I’m sorry.”, you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why all of a sudden you didn’t exist to him, like you didn’t matter.

“I made a choice, one that I knew would protect you.”

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” you snap.

“I had to,” he says lowly, taking a step closer to you, “If being with me puts your safety at risk…” another step, “I’d rather live in a world where you hate me and are still here…” one more step, “Than one where you loved me and died because of it.” he manages to choke out, taking one final step towards you.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the soft whistle of the breeze coming from your open window. The resolve in you has long faded, leaving behind nothing but the skin on your bones to weather the damage. It makes sense to you why he did what he did, and you don’t know if the roles were reversed would you do the same thing. But you knew that you loved him and he loved you, and that alone should have been enough.

You can’t help but let out a whine, sounding like a petulant child, “That’s not fair, Spence.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” he softly whispers.

Your whine turns into a cry, “That, all of this. The fall on your sword act in which you decide what’s best for me is to leave me stranded, thinking I did something wrong that made you stop loving me.”

He steps forward a little more, his face mere inches from your own, “You think I stopped loving you?”

“Was I supposed to think otherwise? You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as me.”

His hands raise to gently cup your face, thumbs positioned under your eyes to wipe the fallen tears. He’s missed looking into your eyes as close as he is. For a man who doesn’t believe in religion he’s pretty certain the gates of heaven lie within your irises.

“I was selfish,” he swallows, “I wanted to keep you safe but I did so in a way that I felt was most logical, which turned out to be so fucking wrong regardless since you still got hurt.”

He brings your face impossibly closer, the warmth of his breath gently hitting your face.

“There isn’t a waking moment where I don’t love you. Even when we weren’t together, I still looked out for you and I made sure you were safe in ways I couldn’t tell you. I meant what I said. I told you I’d find you in every lifetime. I love you, in every lifetime, angel girl.”

The ache in your heart only grows with his words, reminding you that he always was and will forever be, Your Spencer.

“You can’t do that again,” you stutter out through tiny sobs, “You need to tell me what’s going on, whatever it is. We figure it out together.”

He nods softly, the hair on his forehead faintly brushing up on yours, “We figure it out together. I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” his lips press a long kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”

You rise on your toes to meet your lips with his, the missed time and unspoken words flowing silently between you both. His hands wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush to his chest, with yours entangling with the brown curls you had missed so much.

Finally back in his arms, you sigh with exhaustion and relief, “You’re here.”

“I’m here, honey.”

[zephyrchama]

“This isn’t what I had in mind.” You hesitated to even stand on the rocky shore.

“Whaat? C’mon! Humans love swimming!” Mammon was not going to give up after driving you all the way out here. He tugged on your wrist, hoping you would follow. “Try it!”

“I’m good. I think I’ll stay here. Mammon, go have fun and I’ll watch.” You didn’t even want to sit down. It was enough to stand in place and watch the lake.

“What’s a matter with it, huh?”

“It’s too hot,” Satan stated matter-of-factly.

“Butt out! Nobody asked you.” Mammon kicked a cloud of gravel and stones towards his smart alecky brother, who just shrugged. “Why’d you even tag along anyway?”

A vein above Satan's eye twitched. “You came into my room, interrupted us, and dragged them away. Of course I was going to follow.”

Mammon dismissed Satan with a wave of his hand and shifted his focus back to you. “So the temperature, that's really it? Don’ worry, you’ll get used to it in no time!”

“It is too hot, yeah. I’ll die,” you responded.

“Quit bein’ dramatic.”

“Mammon. I’ll die.”

The lake was gorgeous, with views like you had never seen before. Truly breathtaking scenery that you never dreamed of witnessing in person. Shame that it was a lake of magma.

“Just dip your toes in. Do somethin’ fun.”

The message clearly wasn’t getting through. You exchanged glances with a sympathetic Satan while Mammon took charge, splashing into the lake with exaggerated fervor. “Woo! Yeah, this is it! You two, get over here!”

Satan took a few steps forward and let the slow-moving waves ooze over his toes.

You were content to stand your ground. Heat seeped through the bottom of your shoes. While things were shallow at the shore, this volcano was pretty tall and you were all rather close to its peak. The magma in this crater must go down deep.

“How is your swimsuit okay?” you suddenly called out over the bubbling gases.

Mammon managed to hear you from some distance away. He stopped splashing around and began floating on his back. “Whaddya mean?”

You gestured at his shorts. “Wouldn’t those burn up?”

Mammon gazed at the clouds and let the lava push him back towards shore.

Satan was able to provide a satisfactory explanation. “They’re imbued with our magic. If we took them off and threw them in, the residual magic would first burn up over several minutes and then the fabric would catch fire. Want to see?”

You considered it. This science experiment sounded better than swimming in a billion-degree sea, but then somebody would be lacking pants for the drive back home. “That’s okay.”

[shomatoriashi]

09/01/24; 04:40pm

{ 18+ headcanons / drabbles }

[ when they’re too busy with work, but you’re needy for them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

it was the middle of the night when you woke up with a start, eyes going blurry as you blindly reached out to the opposite side of the bed-

only to realize that the sheets were cold to touch.

your sleepiness dissolves in an instant, with a soft yawn coming from your parted lips as you carefully get out of bed. a shiver courses through you upon feeling the cold marble against your feet, but you ignore such icy sensations.

opening the door out of the master bedroom, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to keep in as much warmth that you could manage while making your way towards sylus’s office. there was a bit of a drag in your steps, your slow movements serving as sole evidence of your exhaustion-

but you would not sleep without sylus by your side.

finally reaching his office, you give the rich, oak door a series of knock, alerting your lover of your presence before inviting yourself inside. yet the moment you saw sylus settled on the expensive leather couch, you could feel your mouth turn dry.

he was dressed in a suit colored in ebony and crimson, the colors matching his aesthetic as his rufescent eyes meet with your gaze. an achingly soft smile graces his features, and you felt a pang of heat running down your spine at the mere sight of him.

gripping at the sheer material of your nightgown, your breathing comes out in uneven breaths. your eyes darken, mirroring your desires for him before asking, “sylus, won’t you join me in bed? it’s getting late.”

sylus’s eyes flash, giving you a momentary glimpse of lust while letting out a string of curses. “sweetheart, as much as i’d like to join you and keep you warm while in bed, i can’t. i’ve got to get these orders ready for my client.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, already feeling the moisture collecting from between your legs. not daring to look away from him, you slowly lock the door to his office, earning a raised brow from the onychinus leader.

you remain silent, stepping out of your ruined panties as you allow the flimsy material to fall to the ground. hunger was seen in sylus’s gaze the moment you shed your body free of your nightgown, allowing it to flutter to the floor before sauntering towards your lover.

sylus wastes no time pulling you closer to him, allowing your soaked cunt to pulsate against his thighs as you gently rode him, allowing your sticky sweet arousal to coat his suit.

“thats it, babygirl. keep on riding me, just like that. let me work for a little while longer, then i’ll take care of you.”

your gasps end up filling at the room, with sylus steadily losing interest in cleaning the weapons the moment you began bouncing up and down his thigh. his eyes had long since lost its crimson shade, becoming so dilated and filled with desire for you that he could feel his sanity snap.

needless to say, when sylus tosses the gun back on the table before unbuckling his pants, freeing his erection as he harshly grips at your thighs before impaling your slick heat against his cock, you lost all of your senses. being so filled with him after riding his thighs created such a hedonistic friction that you quickly became addicted to, never once stopping as you rode him with a desperation.

meanwhile, as luke and kieran were ready to deliver the next round of weapons, they froze upon seeing the office door locked as sounds of your breathy moans and sylus’s grunts were heard coming from behind the door. both twins end up looking at each other, their flustered expression hidden beneath their masks as they slowly backed away from the door.

it was best not to disturb their boss and his queen while in the middle of their trysts, a lesson that they were all too familiar with.

it was early in the morning at akso hospital, and as the staff were prepared to switch out with their coworkers for the upcoming shift, they would remain blissfully unaware of how a certain cardiac surgeon was still tied up and locked in his office.

zayne tries to hide back his groans, having to force himself to bite down on his fist the moment you came into his office. he had simply been going over some patient profiles when you came into his office with an almost dazed expression on your face.

he was filled with concern for you, already taking off his glasses while shoving his patient files to the side. one moment, he was filled with guilt for neglecting you for a few days due to how he wasn’t coming home as much-

and the next, zayne found himself settling back against his chair, with you remaining hidden beneath his desk as his cock was in your mouth. he was already half-erect the moment you began kissing his inner thighs, so it came as no surprise when he became even harder when you unzipped his pants and freed his cock from the confines of his boxers.

“i’m not mad at you.” you continue speaking to him, already stroking his cock in a loving manner before licking away the beads of precum that leaked from his mushroom tip. “i know you’re working so hard to save so many lives, but i wish to spoil you, too.”

zayne’s eyes were screwed shut the moment you place your hot mouth against his cock, feeling your tongue tracing at his veins while letting out a gasp of your name. his large hands automatically go into your hair, gently moving your head back and forth over his cock.

you hummed in pleasure, feeling the familiar twitch within your mouth. you had every intention to take him in as far as you could, yet zayne doesn’t even give you a chance to taste his cum when he harshly pulls your mouth away from his cock.

with a strength you didn’t think zayne was even capable of, you feel your lover shove aside the items on his desk before placing you on it. not even looking down at you, he slides off your soaked panties before shoving it into the pockets of his pants. gripping at your thighs, he spreads your legs apart before sheathing himself inside of you in one swift thrust.

“i need to make up for lost time… for neglecting you…” with heavy pants of your name, zayne grips at your leg before tossing it over his shoulder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head the moment he reaches oh so deeper inside of you all while kissing at your ankles.

and when your moans were heard echoing across the department, no one dared to question it.

“you’re such a brat.”

xavier was heard hissing at you, trying to keep his voice even as he was on the phone with one of the higher ups at the hunters association. here he was, trying to gather information for his mission next week while you were trying to free his cock from the confines of his pants.

“i can’t help it. you’re telling me you’re going to be gone for two weeks, and you expect me to behave?” you scoff, finally shoving down his pants to reveal his half-hardened cock. a cheshire cat grin paints your pretty features as you made quick work of stroking him to full hardness.

xavier lets out a hiss of your name, but has to swallow his moans when a stern voice was heard coming from his phone. “xavier, are you ready to receive details for this mission?”

“yes sir…!” a low gasp escapes from xavier’s lips the moment you place your lips on his tip, giving it a light suck. it takes xavier a herculean effort not to moan into the phone, feeling your hands and hot mouth fully sending him into an almost painful erection.

he catches bits and pieces of information, but was solely focused on the way your mouth and tongue traces at every inch of his cock. his breathing becomes heavier, feeling his impending climax approaching when you suddenly removed your lips away from him. the young hunter was all too eager to shove your face back against his cock when you slowly began to undress in front of him-

and dammit to hell, you just had to wear that lacy set beneath your clothes!

your soft giggle echoes throughout the room, and as you straddle him, he saw the way you moved the material of your lace panties to the side, ready to mount yourself on his cock.

“you’ve got it sir, i’ll be there next week.” luckily, xavier had already ended the call the moment you sheath his cock inside of your wet pussy, the squelching sounds of you riding his cock echoing throughout the living room. with a growl of your name, xavier grabs a hold of your waist before proceeding to bounce you up and down his cock at an almost inhuman speed.

“is this what you want? for me to ruin you completely that you won’t be able to walk until i return?”

your mewls and eager nods were all that he needed to continue pounding mercilessly into you, eyes already going dilated as he had every intention of claiming you.

“i’m going to make sure that my cock is forever imprinted against your sweet little heat… so be prepared for it, little brat…” he finishes his statement with a particularly hard thrust, making you see stars as you had every intention to ride him for as long as you could manage.

rafayel had long forgotten about his commissioned painting the moment you began to eagerly bounce up and down his cock. the moment he felt your slickness wrapping so tightly around him was when he lost all train of thought.

you had come home from work late in the evening and wished to greet rafayel. however, when you saw the portrait he was working on, you began to feel envious of the gorgeous girl seen painted on the canvas. he tried to explain to you that a governor had commissioned him to paint a portrait of his daughter for her 23rd birthday, but you didn’t wish to hear it.

and now, he found that he could care less about finishing such a portrait with you bouncing up and down so eagerly against his cock. filled with his own desperation for you, rafayel tries to meet your downward thrusts with his own upward ones, panting as he begins to lose his breath.

being so captivated and drunk off of you, the young artist could feel a whimper being ripped from the confines of his throat when you began kissing him, swallowing his grunts and moans of your name. as you continued to bounce up and down his cock, he could feel the curve of your breasts and your hardened nipples against his own chest.

“am i prettier than her?” you ask in a breathless whisper, purposefully squeezing your cunt over his pulsating dick. it was no competition in rafayel’s eyes. “o-of course you are- fuck! you’re the prettiest girl in the entire universe. you’re my fucking princess.”

a pleased hum was heard coming from you when you lay back against his lap, moving your hips up and down his cock at this brand new angle that had the artist seeing stars. “f-fuck… princess… you’re squeezing me so tight! l-like you want to milk me dry.”

“hehe, that’s the plan…” feeling your legs and cunt tightening so sweetly around him makes rafayel gasp, stilling his hips before shooting ropes of his seed deep inside of you. with you remaining laid back, your back against his thighs, you allowed your release to wash over you, earning a grunt from rafayel.

as your honeyed arousal further wets his softening cock, your lover leans over to press a searing kiss against your lips all while returning your body closer to him. his tongue fights with yours for dominance, and he lets out a pleased hum the moment you yield for him.

when the need for air proved to be too much, rafayel was the first to pull away from you, giving you a gentle smile before asking, “did our copulation manage to ease you of your envy?”

you give him a thoughtful expression, placing your pointer finger against your lips before smirking at him. his eyes end up going wide when you began to bounce up and down his limp cock, stroking it back to full hardness with a determination seen deep within your eyes.

“not quite yet, rafe… i’m going to need this to go on the whole night to make me convinced that i am the only woman for you.”

and with one final groan of your name, rafayel knew better than to deny you of your needs.

end notes: i am still soooo thirsty for my lads men, so have this post 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[tonycries]

YOU’VE UNLOCKED: Clan leader Choso wants an heir! ♡

How are those child-birthing hips, madam?

“O-oh, baby–” Choso’s feverish pants come out in such wet gasps against your ear, and he’s staring down at you with swollen, wobbly lips. Mouth just watering at the delicious curve of your spine, how easily it was that your pretty pussy was swallowing him up whole. “Oh baby- my baby- wontcha gimme an heir?”

It’s been hours now - and it’s just about the only mantra the clan leader - your husband - can get out.

And it’s all that he can spit out coherently at this moment, the large palms of his hands splaying out underneath your thighs to hoist you cleanly off the ground. 

You’re both letting out synchronized gasps when this only rummages him even more deeply inside of your clingy walls. Every ridge and throbbing vein along his length grazing up and down your sweetest spots. 

It makes you just gush, Choso’s sloshing honeyed cum drooling out of the ends of your sopping slit in such a creamy ring. Shit - he was missing some godforsaken clan meeting for this, too. And he’s never been happier.

“Fuck.” he shudders in a sharp inhale at the sinful feeling, jittery fingers dancing up, up, up to envelope your tummy. He gives a slow, gentle pat along that tiny inflation of him inside of you, “How do you feel so- ah- please!” His teeth nip a reedy path down your exposed neck, “Please please please wanna fill this cute cunt all over again so badly.”

“Yes.” you’re mewling when the voluptuous curve of his heft tip gushes out in another wave of such swelteringly hot, syrupy precum. Drenching your plush walls, at the mere sound of your lilting voice. “Want you to give me a- ah!”

Biting his lip, it’s all he can do to shut your pretty moans up before he cums already. He was addicted. 

Shit, he feels like he could pass out, throwing his head back with throaty stammers. Truthfully, he doesn’t know if he can cum - he doesn’t know if it’s even possible. Each and every wet thwack! thwack! thwack! of his overworked balls send stinging sparks of pleasure up his bowed back. 

But god, you always felt so heavenly. And Choso thinks he’d rather die than let such a messy pussy go to waste, than to leave it without every single drop he can offer.

“Shhh sh sh-” Your whiny moans are being muffled with his hot mouth, breath hitching when he wraps those pretty pink lips around your tongue. Sucking. Slowly. “I can- hngh- see it already.”

And oh, Choso sounds so ragged right about now.

Losing his fucking mind with each sloppy grind into your overstuffed cunt - and he was so big. So massively hefty that it stretched out your gripping walls until they struggled to mold around his length. Trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.

“Can see you- all round n’ glowing.” he’s babbling, all pussydrunk. Your entire body jolts when the thick curve of his thumb swipes a sultry trail down where your puffy folds were bulging all around him. “All filled with me-”

Choso was firmly hammering into you with reckless abandon - he always had been tonight, all but dragging you to the heady confines of your bedroom after seeing you cooking dinner with his little brother. Pulling, tearing, fucking you into one of the old mahogany tables at his sprawling family estate. 

Feral. 

His dark yukata is just barely dangling off of one milky shoulder, sifting down further and further at each pressurized push of his slender hips. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck-” you moan, tangling your fingers inn his dark strands in a way that makes him keen. Makes him almost sob, voice cracking so pathetically. 

He could count every clench of your tight pussy around his achy cock, every knocking clash against your g-spot - your womb - that had you letting out the cutest noises, every splattering dredge of his own potent seed stuffed deep inside. 

“Yeah- oh, baby–” Choso’s rough hands come up to steady your hips, knees buckling with such neediness to push use your velvety channel even further. “Hah- my little heir- gonna be jus’ as strong as daddy, hm? Fuck-” Your feet are now fully dangling off of the ground now, and he’s licking such a languid stripe up your throat. “They’ll look at you all full- all pretty and see me.” His lips were running a mile a minute, leaning forwards to pin you down onto the cool surface with his full weight. “Those elders- the council- friends- everyone and anyone. They’ll see you and know I did this I-”

You just sob when he sinks in so deeply in another messy, thorough thrust. 

“-I did this-” he’s sounding so utterly out of breath, gliding his wet hand along your overspilling pussy to coat it in a glossy sheen of cum and your sweet, sweet juices. The sight just makes him gasp, bringing his glossed-up fingers up to his face, “-I did this, didn’t I, baby?”

Your hips can only jitter backwards in a useless attempt to meet his ruthless cadence. “Y-yes- you did this- hngh- really wanna-” You’re swallowing the tiny ah! ah! ah! wrenching out of his spit-slicked lips. “-wanna make you a daddy, Cho–”

And oh that makes him whine. 

You knew that if any of those uptight elders could see their golden boy right now - one of their strongest clan leaders - they’d absolutely faint. 

Because Choso was rutting, he was sobbing, he was cumming. 

So much. Weepy cock flagging once, twice before another one of his crashing rams have him dumping out such sheer, heavy ribbons of cum. Over and over- you’ve never felt so full. Because Choso’s thick girth was already stretching out your insides, and it was only bloating up more with each sticky gush of cum oozing out into your walls. So much-

“Oh my god-” you’re all but hauling him in so closely by his hair, making him whimper. “Feel so stuffed- so good, Cho. Fuck a baby into me- hah-”

You’re so utterly cockdrunken that it takes a few syrupy seconds for you to realize that those words are all it takes for your dear, strong husband to gush out in another steaming wave of cum. Until he was shooting blanks. 

Long, trembly fingers of his snake downwards to spread your pussy lips, eyeing down the way you make such a mess all over his cock. 

“Sh-shit.” he’s sniffling, kissing the side of your mouth. He can’t take his eyes away from just how swollen your stomach had gotten after being overfilled to the brim. Slobbery pussy coating him in all your lewd contents. “Of- of course, ma’am.” 

And before you know it, he’s bucking down into you again. Mind hazy, big fat tears splashing saltily onto your lips. 

“Anything- anything for my gorgeous w-wife.” He groans, and you feel the painfully pleasurable clench of his overworked balls once more. Dangerous. Depraved. Still. Knocking up greedily against your ravaged g-spot once more - you didn’t really think you were done already, did you? “Anything for the future mother of my heir.” 

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Five

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Oral sex (f), PIV (no protection but he pulls out sadly), mating press, orgasm denial, Price talks u through it, the others listen in on you having sex ;)

Note: sorry this chapter is a little late <33

Masterlist

You could feel his heat furnacing around you, the tickle of his chest hair against the midst of your spine, coiling into your skin. His body was flush against your bare one, the sweet, arrogant smell of him, the overwhelming acknowledgment of authority he placed on you as a rough hand caressed your waist, fingers digging into the bone of your hip as calloused hands dragged you closer.

He felt like an animal. The salty tang of your heat, surging through his taste buds still, providing him with the craving for another taste of your skin, the sopping flesh you presented so delicately to him last night. Your body yielded against his, ass flush against his erection as a supple whine left your throat.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His body communicated for him, rutting his hips against yours lazily, the thin fabric of his boxers concealing nothing as you lifted your leg slightly. He fit like a puzzle piece, crotch against yours, slick wet patch scenting your vulva, claiming you before the others could. After all, he was still their Captain.

Your voice was groggy as your hand fell over his own, gently squeezing it. “Is this your plan to wake me up?”

“Is it working?” His tone was sickly sweet, laced with arousal as he ground up against you like a horny teenager. His bulge was painful now, practically singing out for release as your slick drenched his briefs. His hands were everywhere, desperate fingers reaching up to tug gently at your hardened nipples eliciting a gentle moan from your lips.

You turned around to face him, your leg hooking over his waist as you took in the delicate facial hair that adorned his cheeks, your heat clenching around nothing as you remembered the tasteful burn of it scratching against your thighs last night, the muscles in his tongue working you to orgasms before you fell asleep flush against him.

You were almost embarrassed when he leaned it to kiss you, squealing over morning breath before you felt him rock against you harder, tongue slithering against your own as he practically groaned in need.

“Gotta feel you ‘round me, sweetheart. That ok?” His voice was rugged, oozing out desperation as he palmed himself, the gentle motions of your nod fuelling him as he kissed you again.

It was no doubt that the others were miffed, heavy erections tenting their pants as they leaned in to listen to the taboo sounds of their Captain coaxing the girl they had only met to bliss.

His hands were heavy as they wrapped one around your throat, the other lacing between your thighs, teasing your sensitive bead as you whined, his lips now trailing across your chest as he sucked a pebbled bud into his mouth, teeth grazing as your hips bucked forward, chasing friction.

His tone was sharp, “Patience.”

You stilled your movements, looking down at him as he kissed down your stomach, beard grazing against your tender flesh. You gasped, loudly, as you felt him press a kiss against your clit before his hands were crashing down to the plushness of your thighs, holding them apart as he devoured the taste of your arousal.

It was a slow torture, his tongue lapping against your clit, slurping up everything he could as you whined about cumming before he pulled away, beard drenched in your juices as you choked on air, pussy pulsing with demand. “I was so close,” you practically spit, eyebrows creased together in confusion.

“I’m sorry baby,” he merely said, his voice holding no sincerity, “But I gotta feel you cum around my cock.”

You looked down at his length, the tip of his cock evident through the material, pre-cum soaking the fabric. Thick fingers teased your entrance, working quickly to break you open as your head moulded into the pillows, teeth biting down on the fabric as you mewled.

His lips were against yours in a grazing heat, coaxing you open as the scent of you both filled the air, possessive growls leaving his lips. “P-Please, I need you inside me.” Your tone was wet and wanton, the squelch of your slick almost humiliating loud as he pulled his fingers on, digits spreading your wetness against your lips before dipping them inside your mouth.

You sucked feverishly, a heavy grunt leaving his lips in satisfaction. Price watched your gaze lower to his crotch, his balls heavy as he pulled his boxers down, revealing the angry member, tip flushed red as beads of pre-cum pearled.

Your finger swiped across it, a rough hiss leaving his throat as you tasted it on your mouth, mixing the taste of him with the taste of you. It was so dirty, sin seeping through the walls as you choked out a moan when the head of his cock grazed your folds, rubbing against you.

Price was a sweating mess, his body moulding into a sight of desperation as his cock poked at your sopping entrance. The stretch was painful as he pushed in, molten lava surging through you as you pushed against his chest, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you gasped.

“You can take it baby,” he groaned, “relax for me,” as he held your legs apart, bending your knees back into your chest as he worked his massive erection into the gummy walls of your cunt, soft heat fluttering against the tip of his cock.

You were practically screaming now, the pain and pleasure burning through you as he bottomed out, your pussy stretched to the brim as he relaxed there for a second, the tightness of your pussy squeezing him like a vice as he stuttered out a grunt.

Downstairs, Soap and Gaz were practically ballistic, angry hands gripping metal cutlery that began to deform under their grip at the desperate cries of your mouth and pussy. Ghost had to excuse himself, wandering off deep into the forest as he battered your bow and arrow against a bunny that he would bring home to eat.

Price’s hips began to rock, tears forming in your eyes instantly as his cock surged against your sweet spot, instant ecstasy melting you into his touch as you whined and moaned pathetically.

“That’s it baby, so fucking tight around me hm? Never gonna get enough of this pussy,” he choked out, hips slapping against yours as his balls spanked the flesh of your ass.

Your knees were still up to your chest, his body pressed against yours as the length of his member forced you to feel everything. The squelch of your wetness mixed with the desperation of your sounds were a God send, his pace almost animalistic as he forced whatever he could hear out of your dry throat.

You were a series of expletives as you babbled incoherently, his deep voice talking you through it.

“Look at how well you take my cock,” he would say.

“Pussy is fucking made - shit - for me.”

“Never felt something this tight.”

Your moans were degrading as the coil in your stomach formed, tears welling in your eyes as you sobbed at the pleasure. “F-fuck,” you squeaked as your hands gripped the back of his head, his thumb pressing down against your clit as he worked you through your orgasm, oversensitive shrieks leaving your throat as he chased his own high.

The slaps of your skin littered the room, the scent of sex wafting through the air as Price grunted, fingernails gripping into your thighs. “Jesus fuck,” he choked before your pussy felt the absence of his cock, rough hands jerking himself quickly before you felt the splatter of his cum against your belly, soft jerks of his own hand milking his silk against your skin.

You whined, knees clicking as he let them go, collapsing next to you in a pant as a sweaty hand rubbed your thigh comfortingly.

He rubbed his hands against his face, laughing softly. “Jesus Christ,” he panted, “You okay?”

You nodded, your head curling into his chest as you laid there breathlessly for a second. It wasn’t long before he was carrying you into the shower, your legs like jelly as he washed you off, using the minimal amount of hot water you had before drenching his salty skin in the cold.

The horniness wore off as you took in your reflection, deep stains of red and purple littering your neck as you remembered his desperate need to claim you. “Price!” You screeched, pointing at your neck as he chuckled.

“I’m sorry to break it to you honey but they heard you a lot earlier than they would see you.”

Humiliation ran through, but you wouldn’t deny the gentle throb of your heat at the thought of the others palming their cocks in jealousy, jerking their thick lengths to the sound and thought of you. Your legs pushed together before you felt Price’s warmth against your back, hands coiling around your stomach before a gentle kiss was bestowed upon the crook of your neck.

Your feet gently padded down the stairs, wet hair wrapped into a bun as your legs gently wobbled, slight ache in your cunt. You were greeted by Soap, cocky smile on his face as he took in your figure.

“Morning Lass, doing well?”

You rolled your eyes with a gentle smile as you walked past him onto the couch. “Have you eaten?” You asked, voice soft as he nodded, grabbing your hand before he gently removed the bandage, a soft wince running through you before he placed a kiss against the barely-visible wound.

Soap was gentle as he held onto your hand, staring at you before moving, walking to the wooden fridge before he cracked open a water bottle, handing it to you.

“Need all the hydration you can get after all those sounds you made,” he bashfully said as you blushed, “Ay’ nearly killed me listening to you, don’t know how I’m gonna feel when it’s me making you sound like that.”

[ceilidho]

He’s late for his own trial.

You’ve been standing outside the courthouse for what feels like twenty minutes now, tapping your heel on the ground and checking your watch for the umpteenth time. The two of you are already supposed to be inside the courtroom getting set up and going over the details of his case, but instead of grabbing a coffee at the shop across the street and combing over the case notes, you’ll be pressed to even get a couple hissed whispers out between you two before the judge steps up to the bench. 

You think about calling your client again, but that thought quickly evaporates when the sound of muffled heavy metal rumbles out of the gunmetal sedan that just pulled into the parking lot at around thirty miles an hour. You take a deep breath when he parks, already trying to talk yourself out of the bad mood you’re in.

In the back of your mind, you’re about eighty percent sure that there’s no way you’re leaving today without a guilty conviction. When Johnny steps out of the car, the cheap sunglasses obscuring his eyes do nothing to distract from the way he’s obviously hungover. He’s buttoning up his suit jacket from the middle button as he walks up the stone steps towards you, sliding his sunglasses into the breast pocket. 

“Don’t you look sharp,” you remark dryly when he’s close enough to lock eyes with you. You have to force down a shudder that threatens to ripple down your spine at the cocky grin that spreads over his face. 

You’re obviously being facetious. Johnny’s suit is two sizes too small for him—it looks like the last time he wore it was to his high school graduation and he’s grown at least a foot since then—and his shirt and pants are rumpled like he wore them to bed the night before. The scruff sprouting from his cheeks and chin also supports that notion; he’s still rubbing the sleep out of his eye when he walks up to you.

“‘N’ ye look—I wanna say exquisite, but we should probably keep it professional, huh?” 

He winks down at you and the twinkle in his eye infuriates you as much as it ingratiates you. You didn’t spend nearly ten years working your way through undergrad, law school, and years as a public defender to start preening at the attention of the first cute guy you’ve had to represent in your career. 

“I think we passed ‘professional’ after the seventh pass you made at me.”

“‘N’ it won’t be the last. Anyway, stop wasting time—let’s get this show on the road,” he says, side-stepping around you towards the court doors. “I’m not going to jail because someone wanted to flirt with me before my trial.” 

Your jaw drops. He acts like he isn't in this situation because he was accused of holding up a gas station six months ago. You think he’s about to brush past you until you feel a hand plant itself on the middle of your back and push you forward, making you almost stumble into the courthouse. 

“Anyway, we can pick up this conversation in the bog during the break if yer that hot for it,” he murmurs into your ear before you’re separated and searched upon entering the courthouse. Your cheeks do not—absolutely do not—heat up at his tone of voice. 

You’re right in that the two of you barely have any time to prepare. The prosecution is already set up at their table and even the court reporter and judge’s clerk are already present. You squirm at a side-eye from the other counsel, hurrying Johnny over to your table and spending the next ten minutes with your lips practically pressed against his ear.

All throughout the trial, he leans back in his chair and looks like the picture of a petulant child who’s been dragged along by his parent. If you could sink your head into your palms without immediately losing face in front of the judge, you would; all he had to do—and you’d reminded him this for weeks before the trial—was sit straight and not roll his eyes when the prosecution brought up their witnesses. He can’t even manage that.

Somehow though, miraculously almost—and in your defense, even Johnny looks shocked when the verdict is rendered—he’s not found guilty. You’re still a little shell shocked walking out of the courthouse, the sunlight making you squint and then a cup a hand around your eyes. 

He fits a big hand around your waist when you’re about to part ways with him, pulling you back into his chest. Your head whips up to stare at him, ignoring the clench in your belly when his fingers curl into your flesh and that same smug grin quirks up on his lips.

“Why don’t we go grab a drink to celebrate our win, hen?” he suggests. 

“I don’t grab drinks with clients,” you snap, trying to put some distance between you and him. 

Johnny leans down a bit more, always towering over you, until his face is so close that you almost go cross-eyed. “We dinnae have to go out then. We can just go back to my car. Ah can show you how much ah pure appreciate a’ ye did fer me.”

“I don’t need your thanks, I get paid for this—”

“Baby,” he murmurs, stressing the word out, and the moment suddenly feels cramped and intimate, despite the fact that you’re standing in the middle of a crowded parking lot. “Just let me eat ye out in th' backseat.”

You’re stunned for all of ten seconds before you try to glance inconspicuously around the parking lot. It doesn’t look like anyone’s paying attention. Johnny notices it at the same time as you and his smile goes devilish, teeth showing behind his lips. 

“Aye, ah ken that look. Come on—I ken a spot down th’ road where we can park.”

[st4rg8te]

Foul Play ♡

Yandere-ish! Scummy Teammate X Athlete! Male Reader

TW: HEAVY NSFW, dubcon, humiliation, degradation, semi-public(?), dirty talk, slut shaming, mind-break, hidden s*x toy.

[A/N: CHARACTERS ARE ALL 18+ Not edited. I literally cannot believe what I just wrote, sorry everybody.]

✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧

The shrill sound of your coach's whistle, accompanied by your teammates' frustrated groans immediately snapped you out of your feverish daze. 

You had messed up again.

“Haah…”

A heavy breath escaped your lips as you quickly rubbed the sweat away from your forehead with the back of your hand. The basketball fell from your grasp with a dull thud, and you braced yourself for the next scathing words to come your way.

"That's the third time today [Y/N]!" Your coach shouted as he quickly walked to where you were standing, his face contorted in displeasure, "What the hell's gotten into you?"

 You could only look down at the ground in shame at his words, feeling your face heat up further from the disapproving gazes of your teammates that were now directed toward you.

"Sorry coach, I... didn't mean to." You managed to squeeze the words out through gritted teeth, feeling your body beginning to tremble.

"Why is your face so red?" Your coach's eyebrows knit together, clearly puzzled.

"I…Ah~!”

Before you could answer him, a wave of pleasure suddenly hit your body, and you buckled under your knees with a yelp. 

Your shoulders were grabbed by a firm pair of hands, keeping you in place. It took every ounce of strength not to flinch as they made contact with your hot skin. A deep, familiar voice rang out behind you, sending a wave of goosebumps down your body.

 "Sorry coach, it’s my fault. [Y/N] didn't want me to tell you that he wasn't feeling well today. I should have stopped him sooner." 

His warm breath tickled your ears, and you swallowed hard before glancing back up, meeting the dark gaze of the taller male. The corners of his eyes crinkled as his lips pulled up into a smug smile. 

That bastard... He was doing this on purpose!

However, your coach seemed oblivious to the interaction between both of you, and nodded his head at your teammate with a sigh, "Of course he didn't… You, go sit out or head to the nurse’s office, I don't need you dragging the other players down." 

"I can go along with him, sir."

"Wait, I can go on my own—" You helplessly squirmed under his grasp.

"Can I entrust you with him for the rest of practice then?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but a glare from the older man immediately shut you up. You could only let yourself be dragged away by your teammate, dreading for what was to come.

✦✧✦✧

The moment you reached the vacant school corridor, the taller male immediately shoved you into the storage room, making you slam painfully against the wall. 

Before you could react, a hot, wet tongue slid into your mouth, forcing its way inside. You struggled weakly, clawing against the other male's chest as pleasure began to take over your senses.

He parted away after a brief moment to gasp for air, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to yours.

"Ha-aah.."

"Fuck. I've never been so turned on before." He groaned lowly, "You’re such a slut, moaning in front of everyone. Did you want to get caught that badly?"

You were beyond humiliated. Face burning in anger, your hands roughly shoved him off of you. He stumbled backward slightly, but an ever-so-annoying smirk stayed firmly fixed on his features. 

"Shut up! Just get that... that thing out of me!" 

The only response you received was a loud chuckle. You looked like you wanted to tear his head off, but how was he supposed to take you seriously? Your red-rimmed eyes stared back at him in indignation, reminiscent of a small, feral kitten trying to defend itself from being bullied.

Ah, how cute.

He wanted to fuck you even harder now. 

His hands reached out to firmly grasp your waist, spreading your legs, before roughly pulling your pants and boxers down. Aside from the jersey you wore, you were completely exposed to the taller male in front of you.

A whimper left your throat as his fingers spread your tight entrance open. You bit down on your lips, ashamed at the sight.

“Christ… you’re so wet.” He muttered.

Nestled deep within was a vibrator that lewdly spat out clear fluids, dampening your shaking thighs. The loud buzzing became louder in your ears as he began to pull the toy out, slowly, inch by inch, clearly taking his time.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

"You f-fucking bastard, stop playing with me!"

A whine escaped your lips. You instinctively bucked your hips, trying desperately to escape from his clutches. His gaze darkened at your actions.

"Don't you think you're being too mouthy right now?" His voice was low and husky. You felt yourself stiffen when rough hands tightly gripped your hips, forcing your wiggling ass to stay still.

"You’re the one with something to lose here, not me. I could just leave you in this room, dripping like a bitch in heat for some poor random janitor to find for all I care." 

"Ngh! You wouldn't—"

"But knowing how much this ass of yours loves cock, you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?" 

In an instant, he slammed the toy back into the deepest part of your core. Your whole body violently writhed in a mix of pain and pleasure, as though a thousand volts of electricity had struck you.

"Aahhhhhh~!"

The male repeated his actions over and over again, each time, the vibrating toy would kiss your prostate, sending you over the edge. 

His grip was firm and unrelenting as he continued to pump away despite your weak pleas. Soon, you were close to your climax, your back arched up, and wet drool lewdly dripped down your chin. 

“I’m-mmf! I’m gonna..”

But before you could cum, he sadistically withdrew the vibrator from your hole, watching as it clenched around nothing, gaping and loose.

“Beg for it.”

He leaned forward, kissing your forehead sweetly as he watched hot tears continue to spill from your eyes. 

“Beg for me, little slut. Beg for my dick.” 

You were too drunk on pleasure to think coherently. So you did as he told you, letting go of whatever dignity you had left.

With shaky arms, you reached for him, wrapping them around his neck and mewled.

"Pleeeeaaase~" 

"Please what, whore? I don't know what you want." You cried out as your hard nipples were painfully pinched by his large hand.

"Hic-I... I want you to fuck me! Pleeaaase!" 

Thankfully, he decided to have mercy on you.

He pushed his thick cock inside your hole in one go, causing you to cry out. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Despite all the preparation you had gone through, the sudden intrusion was still too much to bear.

Your hole burned from the stretch. He continued to slam himself against your gummy walls, fucking you with a relentless pace. Each thrust forced a squeal out of your mouth, which only motivated him to pound you deeper. 

He was breeding you.

Wet squelching noises, mixed with your loud moans echoed throughout the dark room. It stunk with the scent of sex. A small puddle had gathered on the floor between the two of you, filthy and sticky. It didn't take long before the both of you found your release.

"Haah... Who knew that the star of the basketball team was secretly a filthy little slut? Instead of practicing with the rest of his team, he sneaks out to ride on cock all day long."

"Noo~ Ah! Th... That's not t-trueee~!" You protested in drunken slurs, clinging desperately onto his broad shoulders. 

With a final thrust, he released his seed deep inside you, causing you to spasm uncontrollably.

It felt so hot. As if you were filled to the brim with hot molten lava.

Cum leaked from the tip of your dick and spilled everywhere, coating your ruined sports jersey with a warm, gloppy mess. You lay there, unable to move an inch. 

He removed himself from you after a while, staring down at your body, flushed and covered with cum. It was truly a sight to behold.

Fucked stupid, tears dripping down your face swollen cheeks, skin littered with hickeys and bruises, hole gaping and leaking his cum. Nothing but cock on your mind.

Sigh, It was just too bad he didn’t have his phone with him at that moment. 

"Hey... the bell is about to ring soon," he said hoarsely, messily wiping away the sticky substance that clung to your skin with his palm, ignoring the way you trembled at the contact. "We need to clean up." 

Glancing around the room for a cloth or a towel, his eyes landed on the still-vibrating dildo that had been carelessly discarded on the floor. Insidious thoughts began to form in his head.

Perhaps next time, he should stick vibrators on your nipples and dick as well, or... maybe see how many you could fit in your ass like in that one porn video he watched. How well would you be able to endure it in front of others?

There were so many choices... He could feel his dick twitching again.

You two were going to have so much fun ♡.

✦✧✦✧

[A/N: I don't write smut that much so I'm still trying to practice. This one was really hard to sit through LMAO. Maybe one day I'll expand on this one but who knows. Haven't thought of a name for the ML yet. Anyways, poor Y/N!]

[moechies]

college bully suku :c pt. 1 -> pt. 2

“p-please don’t be mean..!”

he pinches at your flushed cheek, watching your steps tumble back, falling against a wall of lockers.

“look at you. like a dumb little puppy, who wouldn’t be?

your hand reaches up to his, attempting to loosen his mean grip on your jaw. tears unexpectedly flood your glossy orbs, looking up to the man for any hint of mercy.

“shit. so fuckin’ pretty.” he groans out shakily, pressing a knee in between your thighs and pressing up against your cunt, making you squirm. his free hand comes down to palm over his bulge, a short chuckle when you notice and gasp.

“see what you do to me?”

he pulls your hand off his, bringing it below and placing your shaky digits across the stiff tent on his pants. you let out a whine at the thick length that seems to drag on forever.

“‘s all your fault. you have to take care of it.”

he releases all grip on you, relocating his hand to wrap around the small of your arm. he tugs you aside into the janitors room, which had been conveniently nearby.

your thighs clench with need as you’re pressed against the closed door, if somehow holding them together would make you seem less needy, less desperate.

“know you want this, dirty girl. ya wanna act all big ‘nd brave but yer cunt never lies, hm?”

he drags a thick finger under your thin skirt, experienced fingers quickly locating the sticky patch of cum in the crotch of your panties.

“n-not there, sukuna..!”

“mm,” he snickers. “you sure you didn’t already cum, pup? look at you.” your face flushes, whines and sobs that grow louder at his teasing remarks; afraid that if the man spoke anymore, you may actually reach your high.

he rubs at your soft clit feverently, short bites nipping at the soft skin of your neck. he whispers,

“say you want it pup. tell me you want it. tell me how ya want my fingers and mouth on your little cunt, ‘nd how bad ya want my cock.”

“s-suku—“

“c’mon, pup. don’t try to fight it, yeah. just give in.”

“w-wan’ it sukuna..! w-want you s’bad, always h-have..! p-please.!”

desperate nothings continue to spill from your lips, but your pleads are heard. your knees buckle at the sensation nearing your high, but the man holds you steady by the soft fat of your hips.

you feel a light chuckle against your ear, but all is lost when the man pulls his hands away from your swollen cunt.

“w-wait, you said— s-sukun—“

your left to topple onto the ground once he lets go, face teary and still a heavy blush that has not left since the man’s arrival. he crouches down in front of you, head tilted up to his when your questioning orbs meet his.

“nuh uh. if ya want more, gotta come to my dorm. ‘s room 208. got it?”

he lets out yet another light chuckle before allowing himself out the closet, leaving you desperate, needy, and definitely going back for more.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Old man!Price talking you through it 🙇🏽‍♀️

"That's it petal, fuck that pretty cunt on my thigh" John groans while taking in the sight of your fucked-out expression as you continue to grind on his thigh despite the multiple orgasms he's ripped out of you.

You whine, "Baby... hah... my thighs hurt..."

Panting in frustration as feel yourself coming undone once again. The slickness dripping from your pussy coating your inner thigs. Gripping onto his shoulder, you throw your head back whimpering in overstimulation.

John lets out a huff of amusement as he takes a drag of his cigar before blowing it in your face making you cough and your eyes water at the arcid smell.

"Your fault, Birdie." He states.

Giving your arse a smack, he guides your hips making you rock on his thigh faster and harder. His grip on your hips bruising, searing his handprint onto your skin. You do as he shows, dragging your cunt faster on his thigh.

You lean closer to his face trying to give him a kiss but he moves his face away from you, looking to the side not giving you the satisfaction of tasting your lips. You whine, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

"This is what you get for bothering me when I was meeting Kate at the pub for a catch up." He says, giving your nipple a hard pinch and a quick tug.

You yelp at the sensation and slow your pace only to find John staring at you as if he's daring you to let your pace fault. You agnosingly ride his thigh and you look up at him desperately.

In reality, John loved every second you texted him when he was with Kate. He was getting the priviledge of receiving some of the most flithiest and lewd photographs he's ever had the honour of viewing.

Your cum-drunk eyes staring into the camera as you spread your legs with a pink bunny vibrator stuffed into your weeping cunt. But the former captain couldn't help but tease you before giving into your wishes.

You pant, your pace painfully fast as you squirt all over his thigh, drenching him in precious liquid gold that only he could aquire.

John gives you a content smile at your performance as he gets you off his thigh pushing you down onto the hard, cold ground.

"Let's see how well a bitch like you can whine with my cock in your mouth, hm?"