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hoesluvjude · 2 days ago

Text

Soulmates || jobe bellingham

Word count: 2k words

Genre:angst? Fluff?

Trope:childhood friends to lovers(requested)

Author's note :I feel like this is bad😭enjoy:) ig

Masterlist

---

Growing up in Birmingham meant there was always a field to kick a ball around or a quiet alley to explore. Jobe and I met when we were just seven years old, both of us waiting impatiently for our parents to finish chatting after a school assembly. He had a football tucked under his arm, his eyes brimming with excitement, and a wide grin that seemed to light up the room.

“Do you play?” he asked, holding out the ball.

I wasn’t much of a footballer, but that day I nodded. It didn’t matter that I missed more shots than I made or that I stumbled trying to keep up with him. Jobe had a way of making you feel like you belonged, even if you weren’t the best at something.

From that day on, we were inseparable. Weekends were spent racing through the streets, climbing trees, and, of course, playing endless games of football. Jobe was always the star, his moves so effortless that even at ten, people said he was destined for greatness.

But to me, he wasn’t just Jobe Bellingham, the future football prodigy. He was the boy who shared his snacks during school trips, who stayed up late talking about his dreams, and who made even the dullest days feel like an adventure.

---

By the time we were fifteen, life had started to change. Jobe’s football talent wasn’t just a rumor anymore; it was a fact. Scouts would show up to his games, taking notes and nodding appreciatively. Everyone at school knew his name. He was always the center of attention, but somehow, he never let it go to his head. Around me, he was still the same Jobe—goofy, kind, and always up for a laugh.

My world, on the other hand, was far less glamorous. While Jobe was off playing matches and training at the academy, I was studying, dreaming of becoming a writer someday. I’d sit in the stands at his games, clutching my notebook. He never failed to wave at me after every goal, pointing at the stands with a grin that said, "See? I told you I’d do it."

---

“Do you ever get tired of it?” I asked him one day as we sat on the swings at the local park, the orange glow of the setting sun bathing everything in warmth.

“Tired of what?” he asked, kicking at the stones beneath his feet.

“Of everyone expecting you to be perfect all the time.”Jobe shrugged, leaning back.

“Sometimes. But it’s not so bad when I’ve got you around.”I looked at him, surprised by his sincerity. It wasn’t like Jobe to get serious, but when he did, it always left me a little speechless.

---

One day, It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and I was sitting on the porch, chatting with a new friend I had met recently. His name was Alex, and we had quickly bonded over our shared love of books. We laughed about silly things, and I could feel the connection forming.

Then, I heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Jobe walking up the driveway, his usual confident stride replaced by something I couldn't quite place. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Hey," he greeted, though his tone was a bit off. "Who's this?"

"This is Alex," I said, introducing them. "We were just talking about hiking spots."

Jobe’s expression faltered for a moment before he forced a grin. But there was something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before—a flicker of... jealousy?

"You guys seem to be getting along," Jobe said, his voice a little too casual.

Alex and I both laughed, unaware of the tension rising in the air.

Jobe lingered for a moment longer than usual, then suddenly muttered something about needing to run errands. He turned and walked away quickly, leaving me confused.

Later that night, I called him to ask if everything was okay.

"Why are you hanging out with him so much?" Jobe’s voice cracked, betraying the jealousy he had been trying to hide.

"What do you mean?" I asked, surprised.

"I don’t know, it just feels weird," he admitted, his voice softening. "You’ve always been my best friend. It’s just... different now."

I paused, realizing that something had shifted. Maybe it was because Jobe and I had been inseparable for so long, and the idea of someone else taking my attention made him uncomfortable.

"I’m still here for you, Jobe," I said, trying to reassure him. "Nothing’s going to change that."

He didn’t answer right away. After a long silence, he finally sighed. "I know. I just don’t like sharing you."

I smiled, understanding now that even the closest friendships could face moments of jealousy. But I knew we’d find our way back to normal.

---

By the time we turned eighteen, our friendship had evolved into something deeper—though neither of us had admitted it yet. Jobe’s career was skyrocketing. He was being called up to play for England’s youth team, and everyone was talking about how he’d soon follow in his brother Jude’s footsteps.

But despite everything, he always found time for me. We’d sit on the roof of his house, staring up at the stars and talking about the future. He’d tell me about his dreams of playing in the Premier League, and I’d share my plans to travel the world.

“You know,” he said one night, his voice quieter than usual, “I don’t think I’d be where I am if it wasn’t for you.”

I laughed, nudging him playfully. “Oh, please. You’d be just fine without me.”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, turning to look at me. His brown eyes, warm and familiar, held a depth I hadn’t noticed before. “You’re the one who’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t.”

Something in his tone made my heart race, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The air between us felt charged, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. But just as quickly as the moment came, it passed, and Jobe looked away, his familiar grin back in place.

---

It wasn’t until a few months later that everything changed. Jobe had invited me to one of his matches, and after he scored the winning goal, he sprinted toward the stands, pointing directly at me. His teammates cheered, the crowd roared, but all I could focus on was the way his eyes searched for mine.

After the match, he found me waiting outside the stadium, shivering in the crisp autumn air. Without a word, he pulled me into a hug, his sweaty jersey pressing against my cheek. I should’ve pulled away—it was freezing, and he smelled like grass and adrenaline—but I didn’t.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

It wasn’t the answer I expected, but it was exactly what I needed to hear.

---

That night, we ended up back at the park where we’d spent so much of our childhood. The swings creaked under our weight as we sat in silence, the cool breeze brushing against our skin.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if we weren’t friends?” Jobe asked suddenly, his voice quiet but steady.

The question caught me off guard. “Why would you ask that?” I said, glancing over at him, trying to understand where this was coming from.

“Because sometimes… I wish we were more than that.” He shrugged, a small, almost sad smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

His words hung in the air, their weight settling in my chest. I turned to look at him fully, my heart pounding. His eyes met mine, and there was something different in them tonight. Something vulnerable. “You mean that?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

Jobe nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve felt this way for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re too important to me.”

My throat tightened as I struggled to find the right words. My mind raced, my chest tightening with a mix of emotions I couldn't quite name. The memories of years spent together—laughing, arguing, supporting each other—flashed before me. And yet, there was something else I hadn’t acknowledged. Something deeper, something that now felt undeniable.

“Jobe, I…” I began, but the words escaped me, tangled in the whirlwind of everything I was feeling. The space between us seemed to shrink, the air around us thickening with unspoken confessions. It felt as though the world had paused, waiting for me to respond.

Before I could finish, Jobe leaned in. His movements were slow, measured, like he was giving me a chance to pull away if I wanted to. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. In that moment, the years of hidden feelings, the glances we’d exchanged and the unspoken understanding between us, all poured out. My lips met his softly, the kiss tentative at first, as though we were both testing the waters of something we had never allowed ourselves to explore.

I could feel his breath against my skin, his hands at my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. It wasn’t like the kisses I’d imagined in daydreams. It was more—more real, more raw, more us than I could have ever expected. I felt the years of our friendship transform in an instant, a new kind of closeness unfolding between us, one that felt inevitable yet completely new.

His lips were gentle, but insistent, as if he had been holding back for far too long. I responded, my hands gripping the front of his jacket, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric. I didn’t want to pull away, not now, not when everything inside me seemed to come alive at the contact.

When we finally broke apart, my breath came in shallow bursts, and my heart was racing in a way that made me feel like I was still spinning. My hands lingered at his chest, unsure if I should step back or stay right where I was.

Jobe rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as he let out a soft exhale. For a long moment, there was only the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the city, but it felt like time itself had stopped.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” Jobe murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

I looked up at him, my mind still reeling. “What now?” I whispered, the question more of an echo of everything I was feeling.

His eyes opened, and he met my gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before a slow smile tugged at his lips. “Now… we figure this out, I guess.”

I felt a strange warmth spread through me at his words. He wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t treating this like some fleeting moment. He was here, with me, and he was willing to take this step forward. Together.

“But we’re not just friends anymore, right?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, like I was afraid to hear the answer.

He shook his head, his smile growing. “No, not just friends.”

For a brief moment, there was silence again. I could hear the distant sound of a car passing by, the rustling of leaves in the trees, but it was all background noise to the pulse of excitement, fear, and hope that filled me.

“What does that mean?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around it, still unsure of what to expect.

Jobe leaned in again, but this time, it wasn’t for another kiss. Instead, his hand gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he spoke. “It means I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted that, but I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I… I feel the same way,” I confessed, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. “I’ve felt it for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Jobe’s grin widened, and he laughed softly, a sound that was pure joy. “Well, now we’ve said it,” he said, his voice full of relief and something else—something tender.

I nodded, still processing everything. “So, what now?” I asked again, but this time, it didn’t sound uncertain. It sounded like the beginning of something new, something exciting.

Jobe looked out at the park around us, his gaze softening as he took in the familiar sight of the place where we had spent so many hours together as kids. “Now, we take it one step at a time. No rush, just… us.”

I smiled, feeling something light and free inside me that I hadn’t known I’d been holding onto for so long. “That sounds perfect.”

We sat there, side by side, the swings moving slightly with the wind, our hands brushing every so often as if testing the new boundaries between us. But nothing felt awkward, nothing felt wrong. It felt like the next chapter of our story was finally unfolding, and for the first time in a long time, I knew exactly where I wanted to be. Right there, with him.

#jude bellingham #jobe bellingham #football fanfic #football #jobe bellingham x reader

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themultifanshipper · 1 day ago

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lawsunoda smut plz

Even back in the junior series, Liam knew he wasn't completely straight.

He couldn't explore much though because of how it might put his career in jeopardy. But now he was in F1, and his attraction to men was becoming a serious problem.

Warnings: top yuki, both of them being absolute idiots, wet dreams and cold showers galore, coming in pants (TWICE), tension, Liam being so far in the closet his gaydar is broken, handjobs, blowjobs, first time getting fucked, cum eating, the pacing is atrocious but if I look at this anymore I will have a breakdown

Growing up, he'd often see his friends almost naked and find them just as (if not more) appealing than women.

He'd had silly crushes, and wet dreams, and even some wank-bank worthy fantasies that had kept him occupied on lonely nights, but nothing more than that.

And in this field it was imperative to keep this kind of thing a secret, in case someone got the idea of outing you to ruin your career.

He didn't dare try and find hookups or anything of that sort in case it got out.

So that part of him stayed well hidden.

He even got a girlfriend, who he liked very much, but it certainly had the added bonus of eliminating any suspicion.

Until Daniel Ricciardo broke his hand and he was promoted to full time Formula 1 driver.

George Russell, the head of the GPDA, took one look at him and said “If anyone gives you any trouble about being gay, you come to me. I don't tolerate any workplace discrimination against my fellow drivers”

Liam thanked him, but assured him he had a girlfriend, to which George just chuckled and replied:

“Yeah, we all have girlfriends mate”

He winked at him conspiratorially and walked off , leaving Liam red-faced and sweating at the implications.

Yuki was a pleasure to be around. He was a bit flirty, sometimes bordering on pushy, but he was nice outside of racing and they got along better than most teammates did.

They'd known each other a long time, being in RedBull's junior program and being roommates back in Milton Keynes before Yuki had moved to Italy.

Yuki knew about his… preferences, because on more than one occasion they'd gotten drunk and talked for hours about all sorts of things while under the influence of good booze and good pizza, in the safe space of their apartment.

But they never mentioned it otherwise, and Liam wasn't even sure Yuki remembered those conversations because he was a massive lightweight and was always incredibly hungover the next day.

That didn't change the fact that when Liam became his teammate, Yuki’s old crush came back in full force, and he followed him around like a lost puppy and tried to rile him up 24/7.

Liam soon realised, that Yuki flirted a lot more with him than any of the other drivers did with each other.

Hell the Ferrari drivers were bad enough, but Yuki took it to a whole new level.

It wasn't outright “I like you, I want to fuck” kind of flirting.

It was more, “poke me and I'll poke you back until we wrestle and inevitably violently make out” kind of flirting.

Which was objectively worse for Liam because like any man, he wasn’t sure if Yuki was genuinely interested or if he was making up the whole thing in his head.

And if there's one thing more terrifying than being outed by a rival, it's being rejected and then outed by a friend.

The teasing continued throughout the season, Yuki getting bolder with every move.

Yuki had been pretty liberal for most of his life, never taking himself too seriously.

He wasn't exactly out, but most of the grid knew he liked to fool around with just about anyone, and he’d had a few male lovers so far.

None of them were as captivating as Liam though.

Liam hadn't got the memo however, because no matter how hard Yuki tried, he couldn't seem to get his intentions across to him.

Every time he tried to initiate his equivalent of gay chicken, (roasting Liam until he hopefully shut him up by kissing him), Liam would just laugh it off as friendly banter.

Yuki was going to have to try a different tactic. Perhaps a more direct approach would do the trick.

The opportunity arose in the form of a bad romcom trope coming to life.

The hotel they were staying in for the Vegas GP had got the reservation wrong.

Either that or the team had purposely booked a double room to cut on expenses.

It didn't matter because either way, Liam and Yuki were going to be sharing a bed for the next few nights.

That was fine. It was all fine.

Liam was a bit nervous but Yuki was secretly thanking the universe for this opportunity.

“No matter what happens, you can't fall in love with me” Liam said teasingly in front of the poor receptionist, who had just broken the news to them and handed them a singular key, but Yuki just smirked at him.

“Too late” he snatched the key from Liam's hand “I already jerk off every night thinking about you”

Liam choked on his spit as he followed him, quickly apologizing to the woman for Yuki's joke before scurrying away in embarrassment.

“Yuki you can't just say that!” His face looked like it had been painted rosso corsa as they crossed the threshold of their room.

“Why? It's true” Yuki laughed humourlessly.

Liam didn't pick up on it though, chuckling to himself as he nervously muttered Jesus Christ under his breath.

They shuffled around the room, pulling stuff out of their suitcases, taking turns showering, and ordering room service for dinner.

“Practice is going to be chaos tomorrow I reckon” Liam said as he chewed on a barely seasoned piece of chicken from his diet-compliant meal.

Yuki hummed in agreement, this was Vegas, the entertainment capital of the world after all.

“Who do you think is most likely to get married in the chapel?” Yuki asked after a few minutes silence.

“I don't know… maybe Lando and Oscar? But they're so shy around each other they'd have to be black out drunk” he laughed and Yuki giggled.

“Definitely, but I think Charles and Max are the ones that need it the most. They both have too many sticks up their asses”

They joked comfortably for a bit and for a while it felt like they were roommates again.

They got ready for bed, both quite tired from their day of travelling.

Yuki was just in a pair of boxers and Liam froze, staring at the extremely fit man in front of him.

He was obviously a lot more jacked than in their junior days, but Liam was taken by surprise at just how fucking thick the man was.

His arms… his chest… his thighs…

Yuki caught him staring and wrongly assumed it was because he was uncomfortable.

“Sorry… I always sleep in just boxers, is that okay?”

It was unreasonable to expect Liam to remember Yuki's sleeping habits from several years ago, but he still felt like a moron as his eyes roamed across the other man's body.

“Yeah, totally cool I'd just… forgotten. You know since… when we lived together… we had separate beds and stuff…” Liam gulped and pulled his own shirt off to avoid saying anything even more embarrassing.

Yuki laughed. “Yes, usually people sleep together before moving in with each other but…” he winked and slid under the covers, sinking into the mattress and yawning.

“Yeah…” Liam's voice cracked and he followed suit, leaving as much space between their bodies as possible while facing away from the other man.

“Night Yuki” he said quickly, turning the lamp off on his bedside table.

“Goodnight Liam” Yuki sighed, doing the same and falling asleep within about a minute.

Liam just lay there, waiting for sleep to take him, as his mind wandered back to Yuki's body.

He could feel his body heat despite the space between them.

He thought about how Yuki had changed so much since their junior days.

Not just physically, he was a lot more confident, more assertive and more outgoing despite his rather shy nature.

He was also funny and hot, and really one of the best friends Liam had at the moment. Certainly the one he'd known the longest.

He managed to fall asleep sometime around 3, and his dreams consisted of short, jacked, faceless men doing all sorts of things to his body.

The person seemed so familiar, yet so unknown as his hands trailed down his back.

One minute he was on all fours, getting railed, the next he was on top, kissing down a toned pair of pecs as his hips slapped against hairy thighs wrapped around his waist.

Despite never having been with a man, it all seemed so incredibly real and natural to him, as if his subconscious was trying to tell him this was what he was craving.

Then suddenly he was on his knees, a pair of hands tangled in his hair holding his head still as the man forced his cock down Liam's throat. He drooled around it, greedily slurping at it like a slut.

“Fuck Liam, your mouth is so good”

The voice was far away and sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn't pay it any mind, he was concentrating on the task at hand: letting this man use him for his pleasure.

He couldn't breathe, head swimming as his throat was abused over and over, swallowing every last drop of the mystery man's cum.

He woke with a start.

The bed next to him was empty and the sun was barely rising, so the room was still mostly in darkness.

He checked the time… 5:29?

They didn't need to be in the paddock before 11… so why was Yuki in the bathroom taking a shower this fucking early?

Before he could ask himself too many questions he realised that he felt damp.

Not like, sweaty damp, more like a hormonal teenager that's just come in his fucking boxers damp.

He slid a hand into his underwear to check and… yep.

That must have been what woke him up.

And another startling realisation hit.

The dream he was having was very fuzzy, but there was no mistaking the voice of Yuki Tsunoda moaning his name as he fucked his mouth.

So he'd just come in his pants from dreaming about his friend fucking his throat…

He jumped out of bed just as the sound of the shower being turned off hit his ears.

Ripping his soiled underwear off as quickly as he could, and making use of his limited time to clean himself up as best he could, he raced against the clock to try and get another pair of underwear on before Yuki came out.

Luckily he managed it, and he greeted his teammate just as he turned around to see the door of the bathroom open to reveal a dripping wet Yuki with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips.

Liam went in the bathroom after him, feigning needing a piss just to get out of the awkwardness and avoid staring at his teammates dripping body for longer than was strictly appropriate.

The first thing he noticed was that there were none of Yuki's many products in the bathroom.

No shampoo, no body wash… so he'd just got himself wet?

The other thing was a lack of steam and condensation in the small tiled room.

Yuki had had a cold shower.

Liam knew very well that Yuki hated cold showers with a passion.

Unfortunately it was nearly 6 in the morning and his brain was too tired to make any kind of deduction so he did actually end up having a piss then went back to bed and fell almost straight back asleep.

Yuki however could not.

Over on his side of the bed the mood was more one of mild panic.

Yuki had taken a cold shower in the hopes of getting rid of his erection, caused by Liam, who had been moaning in his sleep and grinding his hips into the bed until he came, moaning Yuki's name.

Liam had seemed so uninterested by Yuki's advances that the man was unsure what to make of the situation and his mind raced until it was time to get up and go.

Media day was awkward, to say the least. They didn't really speak to each other much, but the interactions they did have were short and even the RB staff had noticed how jumpy they were being around each other.

That night, Yuki didn't show up at the hotel. He texted Liam saying he was staying with Pierre and not to wait up for him.

So that was it then. Yuki knew what Liam had done the night before and this was the end of their friendship.

Liam didn't get much sleep, and Yuki indeed stayed with Pierre, ranting about what had happened for hours on end, much to the annoyance of the frenchman.

“Yuki” Pierre sighed dramatically “you are so dumb. You obviously like each other and are too scared to admit it”

“Maybe… I will try and talk to him tomorrow”

“Great” Pierre huffed “Now can we please go to sleep?”

They bid each other goodnight, but Yuki's head was still full of unanswered questions.

P1 and P2 went fine. But at the end of the day they were both exhausted and ready to get as much rest as possible for the next day.

They slid into bed, on the same sides as before, barely speaking a word to each other before passing out.

This time when Liam woke with a start, it wasn't because he'd come in his pants, it was because Yuki was spooning him.

He felt a hardness pressing into his ass and didn't take long to figure out what it was.

Yuki was hard, and gently rocking against him in his sleep.

Liam was torn. Should he wake Yuki up and risk the older man being disgusted and ending their friendship then and there? Or should he do nothing and pretend it never happened?

Somehow with the second option he felt like he was taking advantage of Yuki, given how he felt about the man, but selfishly, he decided he didn't care.

If this was to be between only him and himself that was fine.

He arched his back and pushed himself back towards Yuki, to give him more to work with, which worked a treat.

Yuki’s arm that was draped over Liam's body shifted and tightened around his middle, unconsciously pulling Liam's hips back harder against his movements.

Liam let out a shuddery breath as he let it happen, indulging in the strength of the other man, letting Yuki use his body to get off, and he had to reach down and squeeze a hand around his own cock to avoid a replay of the other night.

He only had so many pairs of spare boxers.

He briefly wondered whether Yuki would come against him, whether it would wake him up or not, and whether Yuki would hate himself for it in the morning.

The universe decided to be even crueler than that.

Yuki moaned Liam's name instead.

Quite loudly. And Liam's dick throbbed.

Yuki was dreaming about him?

Was the man's subconscious on drugs?

Why the fuck was he having sex dreams about Liam?

Yuki continued the gentle movement of his hips, letting out soft whines against the back of Liam's neck.

After at least half an hour, and an increasing sense of urgency in Yuki's moans, Liam thought the older man was finally going to come in his pants.

What happened was much more mortifying.

Yuki's body jolted slightly and he froze completely, halting his movements and his moans as the silence became deafening.

Liam knew Yuki had woken up, but Yuki didn't know whether Liam was awake, so they both stayed like that, hard and internally panicking, trying to pretend to be sleeping, for the next several hours.

Well, obviously they were exhausted the next day and did terribly in qualifying, both of them getting knocked out in Q1.

“This has to stop it's not healthy” Pierre said after Yuki had turned up in his hotel room, yet again.

“You don't understand. I want to fuck a straight man, there is nothing more terrifying than that”

Pierre rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Yuki listen to me. Liam is not straight! It is obvious like the nose in the middle of the face but you refuse to see it”

“He has a girlfriend! He obviously does not want me!” Yuki whined and Pierre almost slapped him.

“Okay fuck this” he took his phone out and texted Liam to come over to his hotel, now.

Liam was a bit confused but he did as he was told, almost sprinting the short distance between the two hotels.

When Pierre opened the door he looked almost murderous.

“Tell Yuki you want him to fuck you, because you two are driving me mental. I am going to stay with Charles. Please don't get cum on the bed.”

And with that he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Liam stared at a mortified looking Yuki sitting on the bed.

“What is Pierre on about?” he asked tentatively.

Yuki sighed.

“I used to have a crush on you back when we were roommates, you know?”

Liam shook his head. “No I did not know that”

“And when you became my teammate this year it came back… And you told me before that you weren't completely straight but every time I have tried to flirt you have brushed me off so I assumed you don't want anything to do with me. Until the other night when you dreamed about fucking me”

Liam's jaw was on the floor at this point, and he blushed at the mention of that night.

He didn't quite know what to say, so the first thing that came out of his mouth didn't register in his brain until after he said it.

“Actually I was dreaming about you fucking my throat but yeah…” he corrected and they just stared at each other.

They didn't say anything for a long time, trying to decipher what this all meant.

After what felt like an eternity Yuki said:

“Can I please fuck your mouth?”

And Liam didn't hesitate, he dropped to his knees and crawled towards the bed.

“Please” he said, and Yuki groaned, rushing to get his pants down.

This was finally it.

Liam could have cried with relief as the salty taste of Yuki's precum hit his tongue.

He sank down to the base and Yuki choked on air as he watched Liam deepthroat him immediately.

Despite Liam never having been with a man, he’d tried and tested his gag reflex and had found out early on that he just didn't have one.

Yuki was the first lucky bastard to bear witness to that gift of nature.

The older man threaded his fingers through Liam's dirty blonde hair and held him in place while he thrusted his hips up into his waiting mouth.

Liam was in heaven, he was letting his throat be used for Yuki's pleasure and his cock was hard between his legs, so he squeezed a hand around himself.

He couldn't breathe because of how deep the other man was inside his throat, so Yuki pulled him off for a second, and stared at his hooded eyes and the line of spit linking his tip to Liam's swollen lips.

“My god Liam how many guys have you been practising on?”

“None” he rasped “You're my first”

He was about to take Yuki back into his mouth but the older man kept his head still and groaned.

“You have never been with a man?” he asked.

“Nopee…” Liam whined, trying to fill his mouth, but Yuki wasn't letting him. “Please, Yuki”

Yuki almost combusted on the spot.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck my mouth!” he cried impatiently.

Yuki didn't tease him any longer, he rubbed his tip on Liam's tongue teasingly before shoving himself back in to the base.

Liam moaned and his eyes rolled back into his skull as Yuki's balls slapped against his chin every time he buried himself in his throat.

He was floating, almost like in his dream, and his own cock was throbbing between his legs at the feeling of being used like this.

He shouldn't have been so turned on by a blowjob, but he could feel himself slowly edging closer to an orgasm as Yuki's hips stuttered.

“I’m going to come, where do you want it?” Yuki rasped.

Liam answered non-verbally by grasping his hips and shoving him as deep as he could down his throat, while looking up at Yuki with as much submissiveness as he could muster.

Yuki was a goner. The sight of his long time crush completely fucked out, greedily swallowing his cock was so fucking hot that he came down Liam's throat, toes curling at the sudden white hot pleasure coursing through his body.

Liam heaved in a breath as soon as his mouth was empty and it took him a second to realise he had in fact, come in his pants once again.

He was a grown man for fuck's sake.

Yuki had fallen backwards and was trying to catch his breath while staring at the ceiling, so thankfully, had not noticed.

Liam shuffled forwards on his knees and hugged Yuki's midriff, hiding his very red face.

The older man looked down and giggled. His hand went to stroke Liam's hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Do you want me to repay the favour?” he asked, as Liam's body shuddered.

“No…” he whined into Yuki's shirt “I already uhh… came”

His voice squeaked in embarrassment and Yuki simultaneously melted and twitched with arousal.

“You came from giving me a blowjob?” he asked, bewildered.

“Yeah…” Liam moaned pitifully.

The silence stretched on and Liam was worried that Yuki was weirded out so he opened his mouth to apologise for ruining everything.

But before he could get a word out, Yuki sat up and pulled Liam up into his lap.

Liam was so shocked by the fact that Yuki had just lifted him up like a child, he felt his cock twitch at the casual display of strength.

“Can I see?” Yuki asked breathlessly while his brain short-circuited.

Liam undid his pants and Yuki wasted no time sliding his hand in and wrapping a hand around his half hard cock.

The stickiness made his own semi throb and he pulled his hand out to inspect it.

Liam was holding his breath, surely he wasn't going to-

He was.

He did.

Yuki licked his hand clean of his cum, while making full eye contact.

He hummed at the taste and when he’d finished, he put his hand flat on Liam’s chest to feel his heart beat.

Liam gasped and his hips bucked, brushing against Yuki's rapidly growing bulge. They were both getting extremely turned on again, and the heat in the room was becoming almost suffocating.

Yuki's hand went back into Liam’s pants and curled around his cock once more, to start jerking him off slowly, aided by the slick remnants of his cum.

His other hand went to the back of Liam's head and crashed their lips together in a heated kiss.

It had been a long time coming. A very long time coming.

Yuki could taste himself on Liam tongue and he groaned, tightening his grip which made Liam groan in turn and wrap his arms around Yuki's neck.

As they made out, the hand on Liam's neck went down to his ass and squeezed at the supple flesh, making Liam whine into the kiss.

“Yuki, I need you to fuck me, now” he gasped.

Yuki grunted and turned them around so that Liam was now lying on the bed with his legs hanging off the edge.

Yuki made quick work of both of their clothes and spread Liam's legs, hungrily taking in the other man’s vulnerable state.

“Wait, have you done this before?” he asked, suddenly remembering what he’d said earlier.

Liam shook his head and grinned at him, crossing his hands behind his head, which distracted Yuki slightly because the movement made his biceps flex invitingly.

“Nope… you get the honour of deflowering the great Liam Lawson”

He wasn't sure where this sudden cockiness was coming from, but Yuki just rolled his eyes and went over to the bedside table to grab a bottle of lube he knew Pierre always carried around with him. (Don't ask)

The first finger pushing inside was an odd sensation, but not unpleasant, Liam thought.

Yuki was very generous with the lube, determined to make Liam's first experience as comfortable as possible.

The second finger stretched him out a bit more, and he keened when Yuki accidentally brushed his prostate.

The new sensation sent a jolt up his spine and Yuki chuckled.

Soon enough he was ready, and his cock was angry and leaking all over his stomach.

Yuki somehow resisted the urge to lick it all up, instead he lined himself up and pushed in just an inch.

Liam moaned at the stretch and his hands gripped at the sheets.

“Relax Liam…” Yuki soothed him with a hand rubbing circles on his hip.

“Yes Yuki” he gasped and took a deep breath before the older man managed to push himself in further.

Once Yuki was fully sheathed, Liam could hardly breathe.

Yes it was his first time, but Yuki was big.

But he was also incredibly gentle, letting Liam adjust in his own time before starting to rock his hips in a slow rhythm.

Liam was on fire (in a good way).

He wrapped his legs around Yuki’s waist and pulled him down into a kiss.

The sound of their hips slapping echoed in the room, along with Liam's little ah… ah… ahh’s as Yuki's cock grazed his prostate on every increasingly powerful thrust.

“Yuki!” Liam cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations that were completely new to him.

They looked into each other's eyes as they got closer to their ends, foreheads pressed together making them go cross-eyed. (They looked like lovesick idiots)

“Yuki- fuck, christ I'm… I'm going to- I’m coming!” Liam sobbed as his orgasm washed over him in waves while Yuki chased his own.

“Liam!” he gasped into Liam's mouth as he came inside him, hips grinding against the spot that made him see stars.

They panted and moaned into each others' mouths, coming down from the intense high as Yuki found Liam's hand to intertwine their fingers.

“I love you” he muttered as he kissed down Liam's neck and across his chest.

Tears sprang to Liam's eyes. “Yuki”

The older man looked up at him expectantly.

“I love you too” he whispered and Yuki smiled.

They kissed again, softer and more controlled than before.

They had time.

Pierre wasn't coming back anytime soon so they made use of the en-suite bathroom to take a nice long shower, soaping each other up and giggling like children as they felt each other up.

On their way back to their room, Yuki shot Pierre a quick text.

“We did not get cum on the bed, but you will need to buy more lube”

Pierre must have been waiting with Charles for a sign of life, because his reply was immediate.

“For fuck’s sake, Yuki. I told you to stop stealing my lube!”

“But congratulations or whatever”

#my thots #yuki thots #liam thots #lawsunoda #liam lawson #yuki tsunoda #liam lawson smut #yuki tsunoda smut #liam lawson x yuki tsunoda #f1 #formula 1 #ask #request

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fairie-bread · 2 months ago

Text

he’s so 😭😭

#never been serious a day in his silly life #carlos alcaraz #tennis #shanghai masters #shanghai masters 2024 #kit speaks

143 notes · View notes

joelsgoldrush · 4 months ago

Text

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

11K notes · View notes

chososdiscordkitten · 9 months ago

Text

Baby Fever?!

Synopsis: JJk men/reader have baby fever ≽^•⩊•^≼

Includes: 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 Content: afab!reader, topics of pregnancy, marriage, breeding, and having children. mostly nsfw (sorry anon) (a.n) Jesus my page has been full of baby fever nd marriage recently.

Dedicated to; this ask.

MDNI

Satoru Gojo

Ever since you first became official- Gojo had this little habit of asking to give you a baby. You always shook him off, telling him ‘no’ because it was far too soon and you were too young to start having children.

Birth control became a necessity because of the little need he had to finish inside of you.

On one occasion of him asking the incessant question- you leaned in real close to his ear, “I will impregnate you.” you whispered.

This unlocked a whole other can of worms in Satoru’s mind. The urge to breed you was strong, but that little promise lit a fire in his soul.

But one day, while out on a date- walking down an empty street, a child no older than 7 or 8 ran up to Satoru, Tears staining his cheeks and asking for his mom.

Though you hardly saw Satoru interact with children in your daily life, you could see his demeanor change from a normal playful one to a more serious and authoritative one.

Crouching down to the child’s height and asking where he last saw his mom and his name—all with calm.

You watched the little interaction unfold before you with wide eyes- the thought that Gojo was too immature to be a father completely being thrown from your mind as Satoru stood up straight and held the child’s hand in his. Guiding him back to where the child last saw his mom and reuniting the stressed mom and the crying child.

After that, more and more little instances Satoru did, made you start contemplating his little offer of giving you a child.

Whenever you’d go shopping with him, you’d always pretend to accidentally stumble across the baby aisle.

Gojo perked a brow, watching your eyes admire the little socks attached to the onside in your hands.

Corner of his lip curled up with a soft giggle, stepping over to you and whispering- “You’re actually considering having a kid?” he teased watching you furrow your eyebrows and hang the little onesie back on the rack.

You shoved him with your elbow, scoffing and making a mental note to never bring this up again.

That night, you were scrolling on your phone- watching any video that popped up of a chunky baby with a soft expression.

Satoru was beside you, focused on his phone, but the sound of a child’s laughter made him look over at you with furrowed eyebrows- peeking over to your phone and watching the tiktok you were looking at.

Some video of a mom showing their child’s massive hair bows- he was about to laugh at how silly the baby looked. Only he scanned your expression and got a hint as to why you hadn’t scrolled yet.

Satoru rolled atop you, resting his head on your sternum and urging you to put your phone down.

Holding his head in your hands- “I can give you a baby if you want one so bad~” he teased, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

Parting your lips with a soft gasp, “Satoru Gojo!” you feigned shock, whispering, “A child out of wedlock? What would the clan think?” you teased, mushing his cheeks together as he rolled his eyes.

Pulling your hands from his cheeks and hoisting himself up- face to face as he placed a hand between your thighs, urging you to open them.

Placing a kiss on your lips with a smile- “I am the clan.” he scoffed smugly.

Toji Zenin

It all started with one little sentence he littered during intercourse, legs bent to your chest, and Toji pounding into you like his life depended on it.

Something along the lines of, “Gonna breed this perfect pussy-” in a low husky tone. It was muttered- like his internal thoughts seeped from his lips without permission.

But the words stayed in your mind- long after you had cleaned off his copious mess from your center. Even as Toji was snoring next to you- you stayed up thinking about the words he had muttered into the air.

They made you squint thinking about the possibility of it. Questions you wish Toji was awake to ask him.

Rare were the times he would sprinkle dirty talk during sex. But the way he said it, it wasn’t meant to be heard as dirty talk. The way it sounded was he spoke it as a proclamation.

The next morning, when Toji woke up to your face pressed against his chest. Feeling your eyes watch him sleep, he woke up asking you what you needed.

“You want to-” air caught in your throat, recalling what he said. “..breed me?” you whispered, looking at his hazy eyes and furrowed brow.

Corner of his lip curled, “Where’d you get that idea?” he scoffed, closing his eyes and pretending not to feel your harsh gaze on his skin.

“From you- you said it last night.”

Toji nodded ‘no’. As though the idea of him saying that was impossible.

“Yes, you did- I heard you.” watching Toji’s smug face nod ‘no’ again.

“You can’t gaslight me Toji- I heard you.” Your determination amused the man- feeling his chest rise in a half laugh against your cheek.

Even a few days after- the thought lingered in your mind. Toji still refused to believe he said it- telling you that you were mistaken.

And then Toji caught onto the feverlike smile you’d get on your cheeks whenever you’d see a baby in public. Smiling to himself as you pinched your eyebrows at the little humans.

But there was this one time- on an elevator with a new mom and a baby in her hands. Toji noticed your staring as the woman struggled to reach into her purse, which caused it to fall and spill her belongings on the ground.

The woman sighed- looking down before peering her eyes back to you- “Could you?” she asked, holding out her baby to you- which you happily took and looked at Toji with the child in your arms.

Toji swore his eye twitched as he watched you- happily bouncing the child in your arms before the woman reached her hands back to her child.

After that, Toji started expressing his urgent need to breed you full of his children during intimacy- to which he still denied he said any of those things.

“Whatever- as long as you don’t become a deadbeat again, I don’t care.” you scoffed, referring to his son he refused to talk about.

Naoya Zenin

While he was dating you- Naoya took a lot of care in ensuring not to get you pregnant. “Children out of wedlock never result in anything good.” he would defend. He told you to start taking birth control- only you laughed in his face and said no.

That if he wanted to have safe sex- he would have to wear a condom. That you wouldn’t alter your body’s hormones just because he doesn’t wanna get you pregnant. And Naoya obliged.

Midway through sex, pulling his ear down to your lips and telling him how much better it would feel without a condom- only for his eyes to shut tight- trying to keep his focus on not cumming, going as far as telling you to shut up. Multiple times, knowing if you didn’t, he might just listen to you.

Though you liked teasing him with the possibility. Asking if he didn’t want to see you barefoot and pregnant, waiting for him at home. Watching his neck pulse with a low gulp just thinking about it.

In truth, you didn’t really want to get pregnant- Naoya had a point in the whole ‘marriage first, then kids.’ thing. You only liked watching his ears turn red and warm whenever you’d try and tempt him with having sex without a condom.

You didn’t think much of it- unknowing of the temptation brewing in Naoya’s mind with every waking day he didn’t marry you.

Every time you whispered a temptation in his ear- the mental image of you waiting for him at home, swelled with his child and the future of his clan—Naoya was hanging on a very thin thread.

And once he finally had the guts to ask you- it took very little time for the wedding to be planned. The thought of children was nowhere near your mind on the day.

A small ceremony with his family, prancing you around like some trophy in front of the elders.

And that night- Naoya held a gentle hand as he undid the little buttons of your wedding dress- carefully unwrapping you from the costly lace.

You found it odd- sure. Naoya wasn’t usually the type to take things slow and gentle in this department.

But when you looked at him, his hips between your knees with your back on the bed. Looking up at Naoya as he undid the buttons of his dress shirt- “We’re not stopping till you’re pregnant.” he huffed, tossing his shirt aside and easing himself onto the bed.

Had you known your little temptations and offers of unprotected sex would cause his brain to rewire the idea of having kids- you still would’ve done it. Maybe with a little more tact though.

Naoya no longer saw it as another responsibility of being head of the clan- he saw it as an opportunity to breed you again- and again. Till you were so full there was no other choice than to get pregnant.

Suguru Geto

All it took was Suguru showing you pictures of him and the two girls he adopted when he left Jujutsu High and telling you countless stories behind the photos for you to look at him differently.

You saw a certain change in the way you looked at him. No longer a father figure to two teenage girls, you saw him as an actual father.

Mouthy and mean as those girls could be, you saw how gentle he was with them anyway. And you knew he could make a phenomenal father.

You chose a tactless form of asking him. Sitting at the table eating breakfast- looking at his soft expression.

“Would you be a dad again?”

Suguru looked at you with furrowed eyebrows- “...Again?” unsure of when the first time he became a father was.

You rolled your eyes, urging him to answer the question with a sigh.

“Depends.” Geto murmured, looking back down to his phone and earning a kick from your socked foot.

You scoffed, “On?”

“If we are stable- money wise, and if the conditions are right.” he grinned, wondering where this topic came from.

Your cheeks tingled in the slightest when he used ‘we’ to refer to becoming parents, answering another question you had.

Suguru thought back to the question again, lightly raising his eyebrows at realizing what you were asking.

“With…You?”

You laughed- “No Suguru- with your next partner.” tone full of sarcasm as he rolled his eyes.

“I would be open..?” he squinted, trying to gauge where you stood on this. Watching your face go unchanged at his response- wanting to hear the truth, not just something that he said catered to your opinion. “...To it?”

You grinned, ��Suguru, this isn’t a trick question. Just answer honestly.” assuring him that this was a necessary conversation in a relationship.

He gulped lightly, trying to shake away the worries of saying the wrong thing. Placing his phone on the table and looking at you with his hands between his knees. “I would love-” he grinned, cheeks blushed and avoidant of your gaze. “To have children with you.”

You couldn’t help the shy little laugh that left your lips- “But we are a smidge too young- don’t you think?” you grinned, watching his head nod with a scoffing smile.

“I did the teen dad thing- so maybe a little too young.” he joked-

You nodded agreeingly, looking at him with love filled eyes- “We’ll wait till we are 40.” you grinned, watching his shoulders move in a small giggle.

“Till 50- if we can.”

Kento Nanami

You both had been toying with the idea of children. Small comments like, “Awe Ken-” looking at him with a soft smile. “You would be a wonderful dad.” whenever he talked about the fears of becoming a father.

The talk of kids was spoken early in your relationship. Often were the times when the conversation of how many would come up a few minutes before bed.

Playing with your hand in the dark, lying on your back with Nanami beside you.

“How many?” You asked softly- hearing Nanami hum, close to falling asleep.

A low exhale left his lips; “Two. Maybe three.” His voice husky from how close he was to falling asleep. But he was always happy to answer your questions- knowing they would keep you up if he didn’t answer.

Rolling over onto your side and placing your head on his chest, “Twins?” you asked with a smile. Picturing the future with him as he put his hand onto your back.

Nanami let out a soft exhale with a smile. “Twins are a handful,” he spoke softly, his eyes daring to drift off to sleep as you caressed his torso.

You thought about it- remembering that you would have to carry them. “Okay. No twins.”

Hearing his heartbeat against your ear as you thought of another question.

“When?”

Nanami gruffed a soft laugh, rubbing small circles on your back. “We’d have to be married first.” he mumbled.

“Then wait a year or two.” his voice dwindling its tone as he eased into the exhaustion.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Why?” softly blinking your eyes.

“A year of blissful marital life before children come into the picture.” Nanami spoke, half asleep, as the tiny part of his brain that filtered his words refused to work.

You grinned, “You wanna marry me?” softly giggling against his chest.

Nanami sighed- pressing his hand onto your back a little firmer, holding you close. “I do. Dunno why I haven’t ask you yet.” his words breathy and bordering on sleeping.

“Should get on that-” he exhaled, hearing his breathing ease into a heavier pattern against your ear.

After that, conversations about children only came up more and more. There was talk of names and if you’d move into a house instead of an apartment.

Slowly your own baby fever stuck onto him- you sending tiktoks of the chunky babies you’d get on your fyp didn’t help either.

The words “Practicing won’t hurt” were uttered whenever you mentioned the word breeding. All too thankful to the iud you had, knowing the apartment would be crawling with children if you didn’t have it.

Hiromi Higuruma

When you started letting Hiromi cum inside- he kinda just assumed that you were on something. Never hesitating to give you what you asked him for.

But Hiromi started getting the hints that you had a particular itch in your brain that only he could scratch.

The topic came up when you joined him for lunch- sitting outside a sandwich shop and hearing Hiromi talk about a case debriefing after this.

Too focused on telling you about it before he realized you had stopped listening.

Eyes looking off to the side and your thumbs twiddling in your lap.

“Honey?” he asked, looking in the direction you were looking and seeing a mother playing with her child. Snapping your gaze back to him-

“Sorry.” Softly exhaling, “Sorry- you were saying?”

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows, watching your eyes glimmer with a nervous light. Reaching a hand out to yours, “What’s wrong?” he asked- all too intuitive at what the look on your face meant.

“Nothing- it’s okay.” Squeezing his hand assuringly.

Hiromi raised a brow- parting his lips about to speak only for you to interrupt him.

“Do you want kids?” preferring to rip the bandaid off rather than ease into a conversation.

He inhaled again- only for you to speak again. “With me. I mean.”

The corners of his lips curled, almost in a teasing smile.

Hiromi sighed, thinking about the question and looking down to his half-finished sandwich.

“I’ve never been in a relationship serious enough for the talk of children to come up.” he grinned, leaving your question unanswered.

“You’ve never thought about it?” holding his hand tightly. Scared that you were illusioning yourself into a future Hiromi didn’t want.

Hiromi tilted his head- thinking about it.

“I think I do…?”

You pursed your lips, unsatisfied with the half answer. And Hiromi let out a blushed scoff- “If wanting kids meant wanting them with you- i do.” he clarified. Earning for you to look at him with soft eyes and a wiggling pout.

“You mean-?” you pouted, looking at him with a soft expression.

His eyes widened at the sudden severity in your gaze, not knowing how much his confirmation meant to you.

Raising his hand to your lips and pressing a light peck on his knuckles “Can we?”

“...Now?”

You scoffed, “No, not now.” with a soft smile.

Hiromi exhaled, thinking of having an actual child- “How ’bout we focus on getting married first?”

Choso Kamo

Ever since the first time you had sex- Choso always finished inside, no patience nor ability to time his orgasm and pull out in time.

Not recalling the repercussions of unprotected sex- nor really caring.

And when the conversation of children came up- You insisted on giving him an army of children. “I think it’s what you deserve.” To which he looked at you as though something awakened in his mind when you said that.

While on dates, he would see an overly large family struggling to keep the many children in check. He would look at you and remember what you had said.

‘An army of children.’

Between the two of you- he caught babyfever first.

Walking through a strip mall- looking for a new pair of shoes when you passed a baby store.

Choso tugged your hand, looking at you eagerly and leading you into the store. “Just to look,” he said.

Holding onto a tiny pair of shoes, looking at you, and presenting them in his palm. “Are these really meant to fit a child?”

You let out a small giggle, nodding your head yes and watching him prattle around the store.

Asking you questions- as though you had any more idea than he did.

Watching your face uninterested in the window shopping he was doing- “You don’t want to have kids anymore?” furrowed eyebrows and determined to cut the window shopping if you didn’t.

You grinned, “Of course I still want to have kids.” taking his hand and placing it on your tummy as though you were already pregnant.

Eyes wide and cheeks pink as he rested his hand onto your tummy. “You gotta pump a baby in me first.” Smiling at the fact he was already looking for things for a child that hadn’t been conceived yet.

His mind sparked the idea of watching you grow big with his child. Made his eye twitch knowing that if you acted on your promise. That image wouldn’t be just an idea in Choso’s mind.

Marriage didn’t make a difference to him- only a meaningless piece of paper. Like a license, or a ssn number, or money. (he’s in denial)

So the next time you had intercourse- Choso accidentally overstimulated himself. Keeping your words of ‘Pump a baby in me.’ in mind as you allowed him to pump you full of potential children.

You did say an army of them. And Choso was more than happy to assist in creating the small army.

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭: play fighting with the jjk men!

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catboyieejeno · 10 days ago

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NEED MORE BF MARKKK

bf! mark would be so, so easy to love effortlessly.

Just imagine the way he’d show up on your first date—a little nervous but doing his best to hide it with that signature easygoing smile. He’d bring a hoodie or jacket for you “just in case it gets cold,” with that mix of boyish charm and thoughtfulness that makes your heart race. Might overdo it with the cologne ngl... but it's unbelievably endearing.

"Jeno. Smell this."

Jeno snorts, pushing it back. “Dude, I’m not smelling your sweatshirt.”

“Come on, man. Just smell it.” Mark insists, wiggling the fabric at him.

With a sigh, Jeno brings it to his nose and takes a cautious sniff—then immediately recoils, gagging and waving his hand in front of his face.

“Bro, did you dunk this in cologne?” He gasps, holding it at arm’s length. “She’s gonna need a gas mask just to survive.”

Mark frowns, glancing at the sweatshirt. “I thought it needed a couple sprays…”

As things get more serious, he’d make a habit of sending you little surprises that show he’s thinking of you. You’d find a random playlist from him waiting in your messages one day, labeled “For you” with the one giggling emoji, filled with tracks he thinks you’d love. He’d stay up late making it, mulling over how you’ll react to each song.

He’d invite you to hang out with his friends one weekend, blending you seamlessly into his life. When you’re there, you’d see his quiet, protective side come out—he’d stay close to you, keeping an arm around the back of your chair or brushing a hand over your shoulder to make sure you’re comfortable. He might not even realize he’s doing it, but everyone would notice the way he softens around you, the way he’s always got a careful eye on you, ensuring you're having a good time. If you so much as shiver, he’d immediately offer his jacket with a shy, “Here, just take it, okay?”

And if he sees that you’re having a rough day, he wouldn’t ask too many questions or push you to talk; he’d just show up with your favorite drink or snack, a hoodie, and some silly videos he’s saved just to see you laugh. When you’re ready to open up, he’d listen so intently, holding your hand, never interrupting.

When he’d kiss you, it would start out gentle, with him leaning in a little slowly, his eyes flicking to yours to make sure to watch how dazed you become when he gets so close. His lips would be soft, barely brushing against yours at first, before he’d press in a little deeper, savoring the feeling. He’d hold your face in his hands or let his thumb trace along your jaw, taking his time. He might laugh softly into the kiss, his hands slipping to your waist to pull you closer or just hold your hips, rubbing slow circles on your skin or squeezing if you make any kind of sound. God, hearing you hum or moan during a kiss would absolutely drive him insane.

"Just like that," he'd mumble, "I love the pretty sounds you make for me."

"You like it when I kiss you there?" and if you didn't answer, he'd let his hips hover, not giving you what you want.

"How about this?" A kiss on your shoulder, "Hmm?" another on your chest, "Is this okay?"

"Shit, baby, c'mere." if you've been kissing anywhere but his lips for too long, he always finds himself craving them.

His lips would be anywhere, on the corner of your lips, on your cheek, your jaw, your neck... fingers trailing on your waist and squeezing your flesh. I feel like he's on the shyer side when the two of you are doing mindless tasks or around friends, but for some reason, when he's so wrapped up in you in these private moments, he'd groan and whimper without restraint. There's a sliver of shyness left, a tell being his flushed skin and the way he'd bite his lips, but otherwise, he's giving you his all.

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malfoys-demigod · 4 months ago

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“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside”

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: Just a quick fluff drabble where the reader’s out admiring the morning snow, but also at the same time not wanting to admit she’s cold and of need of a jacket

A/N: Hi all!! It has been a while since I wrote. Life has been so hectic for me, but ever since I watched Deadpool and Wolverine recently, the love I have for X-men came back and I really loved seeing tons of Wolverine fics pop up!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

There was always something magical about the first morning snow at the X Mansion that made Y/N feel like the happiest girl in the world.

There was that feeling of serenity and calm that comes from snowy environments which she loved feeling every winter. It would prompt nostalgic memories: childhood fun, holidays spent yearning for a white Christmas - it just made her happy.

So when the first snow arrived early in the morning, Y/N got up as fast as she could, slipping on her favorite winter boots as she made a dash out to the entrance of the X Mansion, only wearing her long-sleeved pajama top and jogging pants.

There it was.

A fresh blanket of snow, covering the whole landscape of the area, as more snow fell down gracefully from the sky. Y/N was enjoying the sound of silence - watching the snow flutter down like magical confetti, which felt so healing to her.

She watched as the trees were heavy with snow on its tips, smelling damp pine cones from a distance. She never felt so happy.

That was until she took a few steps outward from the driveway with her last step causing her to take a small slip into a soft blanket of snow. She was now laying on wet snow, laughing her ass off from being so reckless out of nowhere all alone. The gleaming snow around her was what made her choose to stay grounded on the floor, expanding her arms and legs as they made snow angel movements.

It was only a matter of time for Y/N to start experiencing the frost bitten feeling around her body, numbing her as she continued staying out in the snow without proper protecting from being frozen. Yet.. she didn’t exactly have plans on going back in to wear protective gear just yet.

Meanwhile back inside the X Mansion, Logan had just woken up from a surprisingly good sleep. He didn’t have any nightmares to fight off this time. He actually woke up peacefully.

He got up, wore his regular leather jacket, fixed himself up quickly, and took a look at his window, seeing white, as he discovered the first snow of the season.

What he then noticed after was Y/N, lying down on the carpet of snow, with a smile on her face. Logan swore he almost felt a smile on himself growing too fast for his liking. He always kept his relationship with Y/N to a friendly-teasing kind of thing going on, but deep down, he always wanted to see if he could have more than that with his colleague.

His face definitely returned to his typical serious form, as he took a closer look at Y/N… with tingling cold finger tips, shivering slightly. He wondered why she wasn’t returning yet inside to warm up, and a level of concern grew in him, picturing her as a poor, frost bitten kitten, who needed help.

He turned around and made his way outside at full speed.

The heavy crunches of the snow under Logan’s feet as he stomped towards her caused Y/N to sit up and turn around.

Logan huffed at the sight of his kitten, looking bitterly cold now as her arms were crossed tightly. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

She smiled childishly with pink spots on her cheeks, which Logan discretely found lovable. “Um, enjoying the first snow?”

Logan had a displeased look on his face, definitely due to her reply. “No shit, but ever thought of doing it with extra layers on? You’re gonna freeze yourself to death, bub. You don’t want the kids to wake up on the first day of snow and see their teacher frozen over, do ya?”

Y/N was too amused with the silly, impossible idea of turning into an iced sculpture to even notice the worried look Logan had on his face. “Oh come on, Lo,” she brushed it off, “I’m fine. A little cold won’t hurt me.”

Logan was about to protest until Y/N brought out a small sneeze. She pointed at him her best straight-face, wanting to speak up first after her ‘A little cold won’t hurt me’ statement.

“Shut up, Logan,” she commanded, “That was nothing. I’m fine.”

The secretly smitten man, rolled his eyes, not buying a single thing she said. “Alright, here we go” he said, pulling her up for her to stand on her feet as she whined, “Hey!”

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside.” He pleaded after she complained with her frowns.

“But I really just wanted to stay a few minutes longer then I’ll go back in,” she admitted, giving her best ‘Puss-in-Boots adorable eyes’ that made Logan want to fold so damn easily. But he shook his head, removing his favorite leather jacket, that he would never just give to anyone. Her few minutes were definitely not few minutes and he knew that.

“Take it and wear it,” he surrendered.

Y/N lightly gasped, knowing very well that Logan and his leather jacket were famously inseparable. She was too flustered to say anything at the moment, so she took the jacket from him, mumbled a thank you, and started wearing it.

Logan had definitely taken a liking to what he was seeing. She looked so good in his jacket and he was captivated by how adorable she looked, with the jacket looking slightly oversized on her.

Y/N felt her heartbeat move faster when she taken a notice at Logan’s fitted black shirt, outlining the muscles that attracted her since the first day they met. She looked away, looking down at her shoes, hoping her cheeks weren’t pinker than they were earlier.

“You wanna join me for those last few minutes?” She asked teasingly with a small smile on her face. How could he say no to her?

He ‘nonchalantly’ huffed a ‘kay and sat down with her on the ground. She shifted a little closer to him, her head leaning on his shoulder. While her eyes were focused on the snow in front of her falling from a distance, his eyes were on her, wanting to make sure he saw her reaction to when the shoulder she was leaning on moved up, as Logan started wrapping his arm on her, getting them closer than how they were just a second ago.

Logan smirked to himself, seeing how red-faced Y/N was now, still focusing her attention on the snow, as she was avoiding eye contact with Logan, who was now hoping they spend more than a few minutes cozying up together before heading back in.

Maybe after that, he could treat her to hot chocolate, because of course, it was cold and he without a doubt thinks it’s the only nice thing to do afterwards…! *wink*

@snackthatsmilesbackchlldren @iluvloganhowlett (shoutout to you and your amazing fic so far! love seeing your works!)

#wolverine x reader #Logan howlett x reader #wolverine #x men #x-men #Logan howlett #wolverine fluff #Logan howlett fluff #Wolverine x reader fluff #Logan howlett x reader fluff #Hugh jackman #marvel #wolverine fic #Logan howlett oneshot #Logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #Deadpool and wolverine #Deadpool 3 #Deadpool

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jaewritesfic · 3 months ago

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Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid.

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving.

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously.

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride.

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible.

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer.

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

#dp x dc #danny phantom #tim drake #red robin #duke thomas #signal dc #tim isnt just pissed about the bee movie script #hes pissed because there could be information hidden in it #so he knows hes going to have to READ the ENTIRE BEE MOVIE SCRIPT and read it closely #spoiler alert #there are no clues #its really just the bee movie script #danny accidentally got a job as an engineer for the bats #and is cackling away while he drives them nuts

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seelestia · 6 months ago

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✧ the gambler and his knight.

aventurine can't stand having his outfit exposed to the elements nor to the rude hands of clients that won't cooperate – luckily for him, he has you to take care of it all. { aventurine with a bodyguard!reader. }

⎯ fluff & angst. 2.9k wc. headcanons w/ some written scenes. the plot is vv subtle but it's there a.k.a aventurine simps for you (jokingly) but you both end up catching feelings (not jokingly). mentions of violence, death & russian roulette. pre-penacony timeline. a self-indulgent piece to celebrate this blog's 2nd anniv! ★

★ 〜 masterlist.

aventurine who graciously welcomes you under his employment with a game. just a little something to ease your nerves and get you used to his ways. you look at him with such incredulity as if he just fell and hit his head silly. he pays no mind to this – finds it to be amusing a great deal, actually. keep it up, newcomer!

“heads or tails?” he asks, flipping a coin in the air and catching it seamlessly. a routine for him, you would've figured from the sight. “that's. . . an odd way of saying hello,” you point out but your tone bears no hint of protest. he notices that.

“i've heard that one before,” aventurine tilts his head with a smile, nonchalant. “so what's your guess?”

“tails,” you reply without any delay. it's a mindless answer; getting it wrong this way would prove to bear less disappointment compared to putting actual thought in it. “heads for me then,” he whistles.

aventurine opens his palm. it's heads. you frown as if to suspect foul play—but you don't because you know about his notoriously good luck—and your new boss chuckles, almost placatingly.

“looks like i win,” he grins without a care in the world at all. “aren't you starving? let's fetch ourselves a meal, friend.”

a loss rewarded with a prize? you blink. with grace so in contrast to the whiplash you feel, aventurine walks past you with a trail of expensive perfume in his wake. obviously, he expects you to follow and you do after a moment's reluctance.

(this guy is more confusing than the stellaron.)

aventurine who grows quite fond of seeing you acquiesce to his wishes, whether serious or trivial. could you ward off those reporters? could you pour him a drink? could you play a game of poker with him? could you join him for lunch? you're always so professional that he starts to find some mirth in pushing your buttons (never too much). unlucky for you, he does it to be affectionate and lucky for him, you always say yes even if you roll your eyes every single time.

aventurine who trusts you with his credit card. . . to a worrying degree. when asked if he's sure about this, he just waves it off and says it'll be safer in your hands. seriously, this card has been in your possession longer than it's ever been in his. sometimes, he does ask for it back – only to drop some 200k credits to your account. “a tip for doing a good job,” he'd wink casually while you're flabbergasted beyond belief.

aventurine who finds it extremely attractive whenever you step in to protect him from harm. dealing with uncooperative clients is a day in his life, yet some are so brutish they resort to getting physical – but he has you to make sure their hands stay off him. a gun in his direction? knocked off before the trigger even has a chance to get pulled. reaching out to grab him by the collar? they're already on the ground, your foot threateningly pressed on their back as a warning. what a dashing sight – and thanks to you, his pristine outfit has been saved more times than he could count at this point.

aventurine who likes to call you his “knight in shining armor” teasingly. awh, you don't like it? he thinks you're more than deserving of that title with the way you always swoop in to get him out of trouble. if the thousands of credits he gives you aren't enough yet, won't a cute title suffice? “it sounds corny,” you tell him with a grimace—and maybe, yes—but he just chirps coyly, “dunno. i think it's fitting.”

aventurine who makes it his responsibility to check on you after a rough mission. credits are no problem, he'd even reserve the most expensive private doctor in the cosmos if that means you'll recover faster. sadly, he has little to no medical skills – so the most he can offer you is bandages. sure, you can take a bullet to the stomach and handle a punch or two, that's your job, but what about tiny scratches? . . .don't tell him you're about to reject his kind offer.

“what's your favorite color?” he queries, somewhat out of the blue considering the situation where he is helping you tend to a minor cut on your finger. you raise an eyebrow, “why do you wanna know?” as he gently plasters a plain-colored bandage on your skin (which he's only been granted permission to after minutes of begging you to let him do it).

“for the bandages,” aventurine answers. he finds no need to hide his intentions as he runs a thumb over the bandage, softly as to not hurt you, to keep its position secure. “so that the next time you ask, i'll have some in your favorite color for sure.”

“how. . . thoughtful of you,” you snort, amused.

(briefly, he resists the urge to ask if he can place a kiss on your cut for 'luck'. but if he does, you might have his head. so, he'll try another time.)

aventurine who slowly begins to find a sense of comfort in your company. maybe, it's the way you scoff at his quips with a smile or the way you always tell him to be careful. maybe, it's the way you take him seriously or the way you stay by his side—is your job description the only reason why?—or maybe, he's just pathetic and reeks of so much loneliness you feel sympathetic. he can't tell, but he hopes the luxuries he has can persuade you to stay just a little longer. even if you don't actually care. (you do.)

aventurine who notices how anxiety brims in your gaze when you watch him gamble at the table – with a sum too high to be considered sane and sometimes, his own life. he can see it all; how your hands shake as if you want to reach out, how your lips tremble as if you want to tell him to stop. but this is what he's made for, is it not? he'll survive one way or another. . . until fate decides the bill for all his past good fortune is finally due. and when the time comes, he'll be ready for it. (will you?)

a game of russian roulette.

it always starts with thrills only to end with carnage spilled all over the table. luck is the only thing worth praying for at that point and oh, is luck not the dearest friend aventurine ever had? hence the reason why he always agrees, not with a yes but with a “why not?”.

you're there as his protector, yet utterly condemned to the role of a witness as soon as aventurine nods along to that darned game. panic rushes through your veins as the gun is passed around so relaxedly, so easily with laughter all around. aventurine's next in line, you realize grimly. the next decision that comes after is spontaneous, so different from your usual calculated nature – you drag him out of the casino in a frenzy before the weapon even lands in his hand. in your head, there is no other thought louder than: he could've died.

“a shame i didn't get to the fun part,” you hear him hum from behind you, too disturbingly calm for your liking. the bustling noises inside the establishment have all but faded into the background. “that was close, hm?” he laughs, a sound you would've found endearing if this was another occasion. any occasion that doesn't involve teetering dangerously on the precipice of death.

you stop in your tracks and aventurine, behind you, naturally follows. your silence is something he first takes note of and the way your hand shakes as it holds his is the second. you still haven't let go. what's going through your mind? he calls out your name softly, perplexed at your lack of explanation.

“. . .why did you say yes?” you respond with a bitter question. “you could've died. you almost died,” you try to hold back a shout – yet, your words are spat in such a fusillade he feels a seed of guilt starting to bloom inside his lifeless heart. he discards it in favor of putting on a frivolous smile.

“oh, relax,” he lets out a chuckle, one that sounds so ignorant of the taut tension in the air. “it's just some russian roulette. why so serious?” he shrugs as if to physically brush off any seriousness clinging to his figure. his remark gives off the assumption that every single hint of your worry has flown over his head.

“it is serious. . .” you bite your bottom lip. he sneers in return, “yeah? since when?” as if to challenge you to give an actual answer. his life is full of risks, to say otherwise would be a lie. “you're sweet for worrying but you don't actually care about me that much, do you?” he snickers to himself. like the thought of your caring about him can't possibly be true, like it's all just a terrible joke.

but he's the only one laughing.

aventurine falls quiet and finally, genuinely meets your gaze for the first time that night. he doesn't like what he sees. your lips are downturned, unamused and saddened—you do care, a realization that has been left unsaid—and all remainders of levity in him are replaced by immediate dread. it only now registers that the anger, concern, frustration on your face are for him; they're the unavoidable consequences from caring about him.

(his eyes widen. no, no, no.)

“c'mon, you—” he covers it up with a carefree smile, as feigned as it came. he shoves his hand in one of his pockets. it's shaking. “. . .worry too much. you've seen me play a handful of games before. i've never lost a wager, remember?”

you don't look convinced at all. in fact, you look as if you've arrived at the brink of seething. “and if you do? for once in your life, you lose?” you prod him for more. for something, for anything – perhaps, for a promise that he won't do it again.

(but you know aventurine, you know there would be no such promise.)

“then i lose,” he says, final and resigned. “there's really nothing else to it,” he tries to offer you another smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “hey. at least, you'll be there to witness my spectacular fall, right? it'll be a show to remember.”

he nearly doesn't manage to keep up the façade. it's already as precarious as it can be. you don't reply to him this time – instead, you let go of his hand to wipe at your cheeks. his gaze trails after your fingers and it freezes upon seeing the pearly tears falling free from your eyes.

aventurine has never seen you cry before. you're always so stone-faced, so hard to break that he recalls almost cheering when he heard you laugh for the first time. that was when you finally won a round of poker against him. a pity, he would've reminisced about the memory more. . . if only the matter of losing and winning a game isn't as serious as it is now.

“don't say that,” you mutter, harshly wiping away at the incessant tears pouring from your eyes more than you'd ever allow them to. some make their way into your mouth, they taste just as bitter as your current frustration. does he truly value his life so little? you can't fathom it, you can't fathom him at all.

but there is one thing you were certain of, at the very least: “you hired me to protect you,” you shake your head unrelentingly, “so i'll do it. until you throw me away, i won't let you die.”

you've stopped crying then. aventurine feels remorse; the tears that you shed because of him are starting to dry. the selfish part of him wants to reach out and brush them away with his thumb – but would you let him? would this lead you further down the rabbit hole that is him? in the end, he decides against it.

“. . .i'm sorry,” he sighs instead, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. whatever it is he is apologizing for, he doesn't have a clue either. he lets his eyes slip shut. he can't bear to look at you, can't bear to look at his pitiful reflection in your eyes.

(he's not worth caring about, can't you see? he dances hand in hand with death – there is no need to subject yourself to being a spectator.)

the two of you then part ways that night with shallow pleasantries on your tongues. no inside jokes, no evident yearning for the other to stay, no more than an awkward exchange of “i'll see you tomorrow.”

on his way 'home', regret and relief clash to form something inexplicably hollow inside kakavasha's chest. he wanted to wipe away your tears—what a regret—but if he did, they would've burned on his skin and became another mark to haunt him—what a relief he didn't. and frankly, if destiny is about to reap his debt, he'd rather go with no regrets at all.

whether those regrets include you? he doesn't have an answer just yet.

(the name at the bottom of his contract with fate is signed as kakavasha. but you wouldn't recognize that name. not as him, at least.)

aventurine whose eyes can't flutter close at night ever since thoughts of you fill his mind more than they already do before. you care for him, you want him to live—all his fault, he allowed himself to get too close—but these realizations are rooted in too deep and refuse to leave. what to do, what to do, what to do?

it isn't supposed to turn out like this.

what he and you have is meant to be transactional; he'd be spared from unnecessary scuffles and you'd be compensated with monetary payment. he means to keep it superficially fun; for him to tease you with jests—so you'd stay and save him from the deafening silence in his head—and for you to dismiss him with that adorably annoyed look on your face. just some silly banter, that's it.

so then, since when are there rounds of poker where he'd coo over your frown when you lost? or the sound of your lecturing after he secretly got you a high-end item? or meals shared together where you'd bicker over the bill? or bandages in your favorite color kept inside his bedside table? since when do you start to care? . . .since when does he start to care?

think of something else.

kakavasha tosses and turns in his bed, but the soft pillows and blanket do nothing to quell these bothers of his. are feelings always this complicated? he places a hand over his eyes, tired and exhausted, and stares at the ceiling as if it could provide him with an answer.

but there's no use.

in a moment void of logical thinking, he reaches for his phone and hovers a finger over your name in his contacts. he is usually good friends with bad ideas – but not this time, he sets his phone down and lets out a frustrated sigh that only his expensive pillows are there to hear.

(for gaiathra's sake, he hasn't even told you his real name yet.)

aventurine who becomes awfully distant the next time he sees you. you accompany him to meetings with clients per usual, but it's different. . . he talks to you succinctly, not verbosely with that trademark grin of his. his face is bereft of the things you grow to like seeing on him. a sincere smile instead of one just for show, for example. but even that's difficult to ask for since he only speaks to fill the silence with empty chatter. he doesn't look you in the eyes either; you feel a pang of hurt, you've always loved his eyes.

aventurine who discards all thoughts of you as soon as he steps inside pier point to be assigned a project. a conclave between the stonehearts is a matter of top confidentiality and you, dutifully, are ordered to wait for him outside the office. though, he'll admit; your absence by his side actually does leave a gaping void—such hypocrisy, really—but at least, those pesky voices in his head know how to shut up when it comes to work.

“penacony. . . is diamond finally ready to do something about it?”

aventurine rests his left hand on the small of his back, fiddling with the clubs-shaped detailing on the fabric there. it looks like an act of idleness from afar, but anyone observant enough would know it's a way to subdue whatever nerves he wishes to hide.

he waits for the person in front of him, gazing at the purplish-red sky of pier point at sunset, to speak. for their next words shall mark the start of his next journey in fate's course.

aventurine who hesitates to let you come to penacony with him at first. but it'd be poor reasoning not to, since some might have a bone to pick with him as the corporation's representative. . . and he knows you'll protest to come with anyway. fine then, situationship discomfiture be damned – not even a second after he steps out of the meeting, his neon eyes finally meet yours. “so, how does a trip to penacony sound?” he announces with a confident smile. you blink, noticing how his lips are wobbling at the sides. you don't say no, however. (if only the two of you know what sort of ride you're getting yourselves into.)

— thanks for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. why don't we all sob over this man like it's a cryfest ♡

#hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x you #hsr headcanons #hsr imagines #hsr fluff #hsr angst #seelestial.inks #gambler & knight 🎲

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