#toys are friends not foe

[nanaslutt]

Okay but perv Geto is so fucking good and so fucking accurate what if he caught reader using the shower head on herself and decided he would do her one better 👀

perv geto<3 my luv

contains: fem reader, voyerism, perv!geto masturbation(r!&geto), so much dirty talk, sexual tension, praise, degradation, unprotected sex, shower sex, whipped!geto, softer ending, implied aftercare

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Fuuuu-mmm” you slapped a hand over your mouth to conceal your wines as the strong stream of water from the shower head hit your clit perfectly— the perfect temperature, the perfect pressure.

You had started out standing but quickly decided to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the smooth tile of the shower floor when you realized how intense the stimulation was.

Your legs were spread while you bucked your hips against the stream or water. Your body was jerking and jolting at the sensation of the water caressing just right under the hood of your clit.

You held your breath as the warm water brought you closer and closer to your high, jaw dropping and eyebrows scrunching together as you were pushed off the edge.

“Haaaa-aaah fuck-“ you whined a little too loudly. You felt your walls clench around nothing as your orgasm washed through your body, the warm steady pressure of water was working you over so well, prolonging the intense feeling as you jerked and gasped into the small room of the bathroom.

shlick shlick shlick

“Fuuuuck… cmon go again, do it again..” Geto whispered under his breath from the other side of the door.

You knew you weren’t being relatively as quiet as you know you should’ve been; having a roomate in the house; but you figured the water would drown out most of your noises.

You could not have been more wrong.

For the past five or so minutes that you had been getting up to your antics in the shower, Geto’s ear was pressed against the door, warm hand wrapped around his fist and pumping steadily while listening to your wines and curses as you got yourself off.

He heard you and Shoko talking about this new method to masturbate over the phone the other day, he didn’t mean to ease drop but.. yes he did.

The second he walked by your room and heard you repeat back to shoko, “A shower head? down there? really?” He froze in his tracks, listening to the short conversation after your question that followed.

Ever since that day, whenever you got in the shower he would follow right behind you. The moment he heard the shower come to life, his head was pressed against the thick wood door, listening for any telling signs that you were trying out this new trick you had learned.

And he is so glad he didn’t give up, night after night he spent standing at that door, shuffling his body weight between both of his feet as he waited so patiently to hear something, anything that sounded like you touching yourself, and he finally did.

He wanted to feel guilty he really did, but the vivid image he had painted of you, standing with the shower head you body used, against your clit, moaning and whining as you made yourself cum with it.. the guilt in his body was nowhere to be found.

You panted hard on the floor, squeezing your legs shut in comfort when your orgasm subsided, “holy shit,” you breathlessly whispered, amazed at how good that had felt.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, thinking. The water was still warm, so you couldn’t have been in there for too long.. a second round wouldn’t hurt.. right?

You spread your legs once more, wincing when you brought the shower head back to your clit, face scrunching as you tried to overcome the overstimulation you felt as trying to go again so soon.

You managed to push through it—though you realized you felt ten times more sensitive than before, it was proving to be harder to hold back your noises as you alternated between letting the water spray against your tight hole, and your sensitive little bud.

“Yesyesyes” Geto smiled triumphantly when he heard your noises start up again on the other side of the door after a brief pause. He started up his own hand again, stroking himself faster at the sound of your needier wines this time around.

He was picturing himself standing behind you, his cock fucking in and out of your tight hole while he held the shower head against your clit. He imagined you would protest at how it was too much, too good, to please give you a break— and of course he wouldn’t.

He would fuck into you harder, faster, he would manipulate the shower head in a way so the water was caressing your clit in circles, he pictured you curling in on yourself while you came all over him, he tried desperately to squeeze his hand in a pulsing motion to mimic what he thought your pussy would feel like when your high arrived.

He slowed down his strokes when an idea popped into his head. You could practically see a lightbulb form over him as he completely paused the strokes on his angry dick, quickly pushing his cock back into his pants and zipping them back up.

It was not unusual for the two of you to use the bathroom while the other was in the shower. The sliding shower door was one of those cloudy ones, so you could see nothing but the persons silhouette as they used the shower. The bathroom also had no lock, which Geto thought was absolutely perfect.

He rapped a quick knock onto the wood, “Coming in, gotta brush my teeth” he said as nonchalantly as he could, giving you a could seconds before he cracked the door open.

You were shocked out of your daze, slapping your legs together as the door opened, you prayed he would get his toothbrush and leave, like he usually did, but he had other plan.

“Oh- o-ok-“ You stuttered out when you saw his frame come through the door. You held your breath as you tried to ignore the throbbing between your legs, crying for you to continue the simulation before he interrupted you.

You watched his blurry frame grab his toothbrush, squeezing on the toothpaste and that’s when you froze. You watched as his head turned towards the shower, holding your breath before his deep voice spoke through the room.

“Why are you on the ground?” he questioned, making you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that if you tried hard enough, you might disappear. “Didn’t hear you fall, you okay?” he asked, knowing damn well you weren’t on the floor because you fell.

He wasn’t expecting to see you like this, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of you having to sit down from how weak your legs were from just putting a shower head to your clit was making him dizzy.

“I-i’m okay,” you answered, praying that would be the end of his interrogation— it wasn’t.

“Didn’t answer my question.” He repeated, a smirk you couldn’t see, spreading itself across his handsome face, “Why are you on the ground if you didn’t fall?” He spoke.

You stayed silent, looking around the four walls of the small shower box you were in, trying and failing to come up with some excuse, instead feeling your mouth flap open and closed like a fish while little ‘uhh’ and ‘umms’ fell from your lips.

You watched his figure sit down on the closed toilet seat. The silence in the room was making your heart race, had he heard you moaning?

“Where’s the shower head?” he asked. You pulled your lip into your mouth and closed your eyes, forgetting that you can see the shower head peak out from the top of the shower door.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, at this point, you knew he knew— and you knew he was teasing you about it.

“Just wanna know where my shower head went, I spent a lot of money for that attachment you know~” He cooed, making you sigh.

“I..” you started, opening your eyes and peeking at his blurry frame through your peripheral vision, “I have it.” You finished.

“Where?” he quickly responded, smile still plastered on his face, his hand coming down slowly to subtly rub himself over his pants, using the obstruction of the blurry shower door to conceal his antics.

“Down here, with me.” You answered. “What’s it doing down there? hmm?” His deep voice resonated.

You started to feel yourself grow hot, and it wasn’t because of the temperature of the water. “I needed it.” you answered vaguely, feeling yourself throb between your legs at this interaction.

“You needed it?” he repeated, rubbing himself harder over his pants, letting out a short laugh when all you responded with was a short ‘mhm’

He watched your form move behind the glass, guessing your legs had spread open again, watching your arm move to place the shower head back between your legs.

He heard your breath hitch quietly when the water made contact with your little bud once more, “Needed it bad, huh?” he spoke again.

You tipped your head back against the shower wall, ignoring the blaring signals of what the hell are you doing this is your roomate, going off in your head. Instead you opted to move the shower head in circles, letting the water caress your pussy in the way you needed.

“Who taught you that huh?” he asked, knowing full well who the culprit was, and internally thanking her. “A-a friend.” you responded, your breath picking up as you spoke.

“Yeah? Did your friend also say it was okay to use my shower head to play with your pussy?” he asked. His vulgar and more direct words made you whimper, your cunt clenching around nothing as he continued.

“Y-you like it,” you responded, rolling your hips up into the stream of water.

This caught him off gaurd.

“Don’t t-think I haven’t noticed you outside the door whenever I s-shower ngh-“ you whine, wanting your voice to sound more like you were scolding him, but your words came out rushed and needy instead.

“You wanted m-e to do this,” you finished with a whine when the stream hit your clit a little too intensely.

“Fuck,” he laughed, reaching his hand into his pants once more to pull out his cock and stroke himself properly, “Why didn’t you say anything huh?” he asked.

“Didnt w-wanna ruin your fantasy, p-pervert.” you responded, the name making his cock twitch. “Oh I’m the pervert?” he responded, “Who was the one letting me listen to her shower? the one using my shower head to make herself cum?”

“L-listen to yourself, your just a nasty v-voyeur,” you wined, moans freely falling from your lips now at how worked up this conversation was getting you.

He felt his balls clench at your degrading words, cock still in his hand as he stood to his feet, sliding the slower door open in one swift movement and entering the shower, soaking his clothes as he dropped to his knees, gripping your chin in his free hand as he pressed your lips to his.

“Mmm! Mph-“ You whined into his mouth, feeling his arm rapidly move back and forth between you, his heavy breathing giving away his antics.

You kept the shower head on your clit as the two of you made out. He kissed you like he had been wanting to do this for years, bulling his tongue into your mouth and groaning into your cavern, the two of you swallowing each others noises.

“Sugu- Suguru, fuck-“ you moaned his name needing in between kisses, feeling yourself get pushed to the edge for the second time.

He sucked your lip into his mouth before pulling away and gripping your wrist that was controlling the shower head. “Let me fuck you,” he begged against your lips, “Let me fuck you please.” You were astonished at how quickly he was switching gears. He was so dominant just seconds ago and now he was on his knees in front of you, begging you to let him put his dick inside you.

“I’ll make you cum so much harder than this fucking thing please, let me prove it,” he rushed, his hand still jerking quickly over his cock as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

“Okay, okay ye-“ you answer, soul leaving your body when he wrapped his arms around you, yanking the both of you to your feet, he pulled you up by the underside of your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist as he pinned you against the shower wall.

You were getting whiplash as how quickly this was progressing, you gasped in anticipation as his hand grabbed ahold of his cock underneath you, you gasped when you felt it rub against your entrance.

“You can’t take it, Look at me, you can take it.” He spoke, pressing his his forehead to yours and making you keep eyes contact with him, distracting you from the sheer size of his cock that looked like it threatened to split you in half.

The two of you stared at each other with bated breathe, waiting for geto to slip his cock into your hole. The two of you gasped in tandem when he slid inside, the slide eased by the water.

“Oh fuck,” The dark haired man rolled his eyes back in his head, “So fucking tight oh my-“ He cut himself off when he bottomed out, gasping against your mouth as you wined at the stretch.

You’ve never taken anything inside you even remotely close to the girth and length of Geto’s massive cock. You were glad you came once before and your walls were more pliant, otherwise you would’ve been actually worried that he might’ve split you in two.

“Holy fuck you’re so big-“ you praised, looking down between the two of you and seeing your cunt fully pressed against his abdomen. “S-should’ve stopped being a fucking pervert and g-grew the balls to come in here and f-fuck me week ago,” you giggled.

Geto had no idea why when you spoke down to him it made his cock twitch, his balls would clench and threaten to spill his seed without even moving. Even before he got inside you when he heard the name leave your lips he had to squeeze the base of his cock to prevent himself from cumming prematurely.

“I know, you’re right,” he agreed, before he started a rough pace with his hips, fucking meanly into your cunt.

You bounced forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as high pitch “ah! ah! ah’s” we’re fucked out of your lungs.

“This perv fucking you better than that shower head?” he asked, smiling into the crook of your neck as his cocky pistoned in and out of your hole, his fat tip fucking straight into your gspot.

“D-ont kno-w” your words came out choppy and high pitched thanks to his rough thrusts. “You don’t know?” He repeated, his lip jutting out in a frown as he bounced your body up and down his cock with ease. “Let’s find out then,” he added.

He gripped the sides of your body, pulling you up off his cock with ease and flipping your body around, so you were back to chest with him, just like in his fantasy.

He slipped his cock back inside you, making you whine, your legs shaking and trembling under your own weight, small hands reaching out to grip onto the shower door handle to keep yourself steady.

Geto reached over and grabbed the shower head, picking it up off the ground from the tube part and pulling it up into his hands, he quickly checked the pressure and temperature against his fingers before he wrapped one large arm against your tummy, pulling you back against his chest.

He maneuvered his other hand in front of you, teasing the spray of the water against your pelvis before he spoke, “Don’t pass out on me.”

Geto placed the stream of water against your clit before resuming his brutal pace inside your pussy once more. If it wasn’t for his strong grip against your stomach, you were sure your legs would’ve given out on you.

“Fffuuuuuck-“ You wined, eyes rolling back in your head at the intense pleasure. “Fuck- You’re so much tighter when your little clit gets some attention-“ he choked, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your pussy walls constricting around his cock.

He tipped his head back, jaw dropping as he tried not to lose his own balance, he understood now why you ended up on the floor.

“Not gonna last with your squeezing me this fucking tight.” he warned, his lips coming down to suckle against your neck as the both of you were spiraling closer and closer to your impending orgasms.

“Fuck it’s you- you shi-t,” you tried to tell him, making him grin against your neck, “You fuck me better ha-aaah!” you wined, your arms leaving the shower door to dig your nails into his arm that was wrapped around your torso.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” He bated, needing to hear you praise him. “So ahhn! So good Sugu! So fucking good, love your cock-“ you got cut off by the first wave of your orgasm, catching you off gaurd suddenly.

“Yeahhh cum all over my fucking cock- good fucking girl-“ your roomate praised, his thrusts becoming sloppy as your walls fought to milk him for all he was worth,

“Gonna make me cum,” he warned, gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes back when you dug your nails into his arms harder than before.

Unbeknownst to him, he was fucking you straight into overstimulation, you had just come in inch from your life and the stream of water was still steadily massaging your clit, and his mushroom tip was absolutely abusing your gspot.

“Su-“ you tried to speak, to tell him to at least move the shower head but he was out of it himself. The man was fucking you with reckless abandon, humping his dick into your tight walls on instinct, moans freely falling from his lips, his heavy balls making loud vulgar slaps against your ass-

He pulled out just before he came, making him drop the shower head and simultaneously releasing his hold on you, making you drop to your knees.

You looked up at him just in time when he came, his large hand caressed your face while his other stroked him through his orgasm, abs and balls clenching alike while warm spurts of cum covered your pretty face.

“Thank you- Thank you-“ He choked out between the waves of his orgasm, his head was tilted back, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut at the intensity, you and never seen a more beautiful sight.

His legs were visibly shaking, fighting to keep himself standing as his fist squeezed out the remaining drops of his cum onto your face.

When he started to come down his next dropped to look at you, gasping, trying to catch his breath as he looked at the art he created on your beautiful face.

When the fuzziness started to fade out of his head he realized how uncomfortable he was, his slacks and button up shirt was half drenched, sticking to his skin uncomfortably from the water. His big hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he squatted in front of you, before bringing both hands down to your face using his large thumbs to rub his cum into your cheeks.

“I-“ He stopped himself, clearing his throat before leaving a soft peck on your lips, “Legs get you cleaned up,” he smiled, scooping you up and letting you wrap your limbs around him like a koala as he carried your wet bodies out of the shower.

[metalsiren-a]

🍆how do they feel about toys? do they have any? what’s their favorite? do they use them with partners?

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 // @shellcrack + ACCEPTING .

sawyer loves toys! she loves incorperating them into all aspects of pleasure, whether it be foreplay or the actual event. it's actually somewhat of a red flag to her if her partner doesn't like using toys or refuses to use them because sawyer doesn't view them as competition, but more like a partner-in-pleasure. she uses them on her partners in tandem with her own skills frequently and loves having them used on her. sure there are times where it's nice for it to just be all analog, especially for certain more intimate moments, but toys are a staple in her arsenal.

she's got vibrators, to dildos, to lush vibes, to strap-ons, to bad dragons, to plugs; anything and everything to explore and enhance the experience for herself and her partners. in all honesty, she can't choose a favourite, but if we are to go off of what she takes on tour with her, she packs a lush vibe and a dildo.

[robo-writing]

Someone asked me to elaborate on this post, so I will :3 (18+)

Logan is a man who has always been a pack animal—a sheep in need of a flock, if you will. As much as he can deny it, he thrives off of a need to belong, a need to be needed. He’ll never admit it, but the signs are there.

Being fiercely loyal, his devotion, violent towards anyone or anything that threatens his peace. With the X-Men he’s protective, but with you? It’s something else entirely.

When Logan finds a partner actually willing to stay with him—broken, animalistic thing that he believes himself to be—he holds on tight to them and refuses to let go. It’s an odd mix between a child holding onto its favorite doll and a dog sinking its teeth into its favorite chew toy—but the intent is the same regardless.

You’re his, and he’s never gonna let you go.

To say he would kill for you is truly an understatement—he would wage war for you, would watch the viscera river down his arms in streams—a privilege he offers to you and you alone, the only woman in the world he’d ever trust with his leash. It scares him, how much control you have over him, but it excites him all the same.

The best part? You truly have no idea how much power over him you have.

Even the simplest things have him bending over backwards for you, calling for him from across the house in that melodic voice he loves so much just to ask him for help.

“Could you help me with dinner?”

“Mind grabbing this for me?”

“I’m too lazy, sorry to be a bother—“

And the answer is the same each time—“You’re no bother princess, just say the word.”

He wants to scold you sometimes at the mere suggestion that his answer would ever be no. When it comes to you, he doesn’t think the word is in his dictionary. You have him deeply, truly, well trained, so much so that he’d gladly kneel at your feet if it meant you’d look down at him, because at the end of the day you’d still be looking at him.

Embarrassing really, that the big bad wolverine is secretly a lovedrunk puppy, one that’d dig his thumbs into the arches of your feet, smiling to himself when you let out that deliciously drawn out moan when he hits the right spot, right there, thank you.

However, that same puppy turns into a feral hound whenever he perceives a threat. Whether it be friend or foe, he’s one step behind you the moment you show any kind of discomfort. Even the slightest hint of hostility and Logan’s right there, chest puffed and glaring daggers at whoever was stupid enough to try, and that’s on the best of days.

On the worst of days…it’s a different story entirely. You’ve become far too familiar with the dulled sound of skin meeting metal, that familiar snikt before you’re forced to stand between Logan and his next victim. The two of you have gotten kicked out of your fair share of establishments, but Logan apologizes in a way only he can—with his mouth against your cunt.

Every lick, every suck, every touch, an apology. Muttering into your pussy, worshipping it, his tongue against your clit his own personal prayer, the sound of your moans his reward for being so devout.

“Sorry for getting us in trouble doll—“

His palms smooth over your trembling flesh, rough and calloused, just the right amount of pressure to keep you grounded.

“Sorry for getting you banned from your favorite shop—“

His fingers leave divots in your thighs, pulling himself further against your mound. His nose bumps against your clit with each pass, and the feeling leaves you gasping for air.

“Sorry for being so protective—“

Again and again, his mouth brings you to heights you never thought possible.

“Sorry for being so rough, just can’t help myself.”

In more ways than one, he really can’t, can’t take the man out of the beast if he’s more beast than man. Can’t teach a feral dog to socialize, but you can teach it who his master is.

And boy, do you fucking teach him.

You give him the best lesson of your life whenever you praise him, spread your legs and pull his head deeper into your needy cunt, dig your nails into his scalp just the way he likes it and moan for him while your thighs shake and your pussy squirts against his taste buds.

“Good boy, Lo’—good fucking boy—“

If he had a tail, it’d be fucking wagging.

[twisted-broth]

Scarlet End

Mr Scarletta x Reader

(Anything in bold is in the other world language)

How did you end up here? In those apartments? In this other world? Could it really all have been fate?

No. It was all his fault. Ever since you spilt blood on his property, you were in the palm of his hand. He toyed with your reality like it was all just a game to him. You supposed that likely wasn't far from the truth.

How many days had you been running? Every corner you turned brought you face to face with a new monster, difficult to distinguish between friend or foe. Although you suppose you probably didn't look much better at this point. Blood slipped through the cracks of your raincoat, staining the white dress underneath as you fell to your knees. You were so tired. Even if you could keep running, where would you go? All you could see for miles was an ocean of red. And your hunter didn't suffer the same exhaustion you did.

Shade falls over you. Although now that you think about it, was there ever a light source to begin with? Either way, you don't have to raise your head to know that a red umbrella was covering you. Not to mention the telltale static that always managed to make your teeth throb.

He says something incomprehensible.

No, you know this one. It's the same thing he asks for every time he sees you.

"Give name?"

You finally raise your head to look at him. His red hair covered most of his face, but you could still catch a glimpse of his haunting eyes staring at you, unblinking.

You clumsily utter out what you think is the equivalent of "Why?"

"Me like you. You give name, me ??? you."

What was that word again? It was one Mr Crawling used often. Something like... protect.

"Protect you."

Could he really protect you? Judging by the reactions of everyone else here, you were under the impression that he was the one you needed protection from. The voice on the telephone seemed adamant that you not tell anyone your name. But could you really trust that voice? They hadn't led you astray yet.

They also said you would have to make a choice.

All things considered, this is Mr Scarletta's world. Either you refuse and keep running for the rest of your life, or you join Scarletta in his reign of terror. Your crowbar digs into your shoulder, reminding you of your past. When you stop to think about it, you're not so different from Scarletta. Maybe you're even worse.

"Name... Y/n."

His eerie smile grew more than you thought was possible.

"Y/n." He repeats.

His hand is cold and rubbery, not unlike a corpse, as he takes your own. The fact that he was incorporeal when you swung your crowbar at him a few minutes ago nags at the bag of your mind. Your brow creases in annoyance, but if Scarletta notices he doesn't say anything. It really was true that this world was stacked against you.

Scarletta rises to his full height, pulling you up with him. It takes a great deal of effort to force your aching muscles to stretch once more, and your knees nearly buckle again. Amidst your struggle to right yourself, he hands you his umbrella, much to your confusion. Before you can ask why, he scoops you into his arms bridal style. You supposed this was his way of showing that he cared.

Under the cover of the red umbrella, you feel isolated from the rest of the world. Even if that world was only a wasteland of red for right now. Fear grips your throat as you meet his awful eyes. They were even worse up close. Even now, having gotten what he wanted, his expression seemed the same as always. Being so close, the static was almost deafening as it continued to assault your ears. Perhaps these were all traits that you would grow used to in time.

"Let's go."

[user500269]

Can you do an one shot of Francis with doppelgänger reader?

sub! francis mosses x gn! doppelgänger! reader

summary: francis taking over the security guard for the day...

wc: 1.4k

content warning: nsfw, blowjob, vibrators, nipple play, anal, cock can be seen as a strap, exhibitionism, public sex

author's note: hiii! thank u for the ask anon!! sorry for the wait, this one has been collecting dust in my asks for a while :') idk why this took me THREE days to write?? hope u guys enjoy one !! not proof read, minors pls dni !!

it was just another day, but there was a new security guard filling in.

francis was taking care of the affairs of the apartment at the request of a close friend, guarding the entrance for the day. usual protocol: check ids, entry requests, match names and faces.

but something about francis screamed gullible, naive and inexperienced. he just couldn't get every single person in correctly, could he?

"i just forgot my id at home, can't you just let me in?" a clear doppelgänger but it was just francis' first day! how could he tell the difference?

"mmmkay, come on in," and he'd give them such a nice smile, looking up at the doppelganger, handing them their things before they walked through. he was such a nice boy, so ignorant to who, or rather what, he was letting into the building.

so when your doppelgänger friends decided to ring you up to help infiltrate the building, your initial reaction of this pretty man was much different from what you were faced with.

you slipped your forged id and hastily written entry request through the opening, looking down at the man in front of you. "g'afternoon," you tipped your imaginary hat, watching francis gulp.

he couldn't even think straight the moment he got a whiff of your scent, not even carefully inspect the accuracy. lucky you. "c-come on in," he nodded, unlocking the door.

little did he know, you could infiltrate the security office to mess with him.

you creaked the door open, dropping to your knees to crawl towards the unattended male. he was letting in another resident, paying no mind to how you were nestled between his thighs.

but when your hand pressed on the unknowing bulge on his pants, he jolted. his eyes shot open, a small noise escaping his lips. he looked down at you, surprised at your sudden presence.

"shh. can't let 'em know i'm here, hm?" you pressed a finger against your lip, hoping to silence him. he picked up his jaw, biting his lip. "go on," you instructed, smiling at his obedience.

he shot his head up, looking up at his neighbor, william, inspecting his papers as carefully as he could. but the way your palm rubbed his cock through his pants made him buck his hips into your touch.

"h-hng, mm...you forgot to give me y...you're id, ngh..." he huffed, his hips shaking against the chair underneath. your fingers trailed to his zipper, slowly tugging it down.

when he let william in, he looked down at you shaking his head. as much as he wanted to scold you, another resident came in. "behave," he gritted his teeth, furrowing his brows.

as if he was in any position to be ordering you around.

you tugged his pants off, a spot of his underwear soaked. "so cute," you whispered to yourself, your breath making him shudder. he was so sensitive, like he's never been touched before.

"s-so, what brings you h-hengh, here today?" he almost jumped when you pinched at the head of his cock, toying with the pre-cum spilling out.

"c'mon francis, we're good friends. no need for any of that," the dark hair male chuckled, waving him off.

francis couldn't care less if this guy was his friend or foe, the way you were suckling his tip through his soaked undies made his jaw go slack.

you pulled off, looking up at him with furrowed brows. "we're not filming a porno, handsome. put that tongue back in your mouth," you quietly scolded.

he nodded with a gulp, before looking up at the resident in front of him. he looked over the papers, before sliding them back. "everything's go- ooONNGH?"

you fully latched your lips around his cock, the warmth of your mouth making him buck his hips. "what was that, buddy?" the man asked, poking his head backwards to look at francis.

"all good to go," he quickly coughed, sticking his thumb up.

when he locked the door, he threw his head back, tongue stuck out once again. "oooghh...y-you're so good at- ngggHH!" you took the entire length of his cock into your mouth, his tip kissing the back of your throat. "t-that..."

he didn't last long like that, cum pouring into your mouth, spilling down your lips. you looked up at the way his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut when he came.

but you didn't give him very long to recover from his orgasm.

"hnngh? w-what's that- aaNGHH!"

you slipped a bullet vibe into his hole, pressing it deep against his best feeling spot. "wanna see how long you keep your composure with these," you giggled.

"these?" he tilted his head, but gasped when he felt your fingers slip under his shirt, lifting it to reveal his nipples. "mmngh, what's this for?"

you paid no mind to his whines, ripping off tape from his desk to tape vibrators to his chest. you buttoned his shirt again, the outline of the vibes slightly noticeable if you truly looked.

"you'll find out. just be a good boy 'n act normal, kay?" you knelt, looking up at him with an innocent smile.

his eyes widened, fidgeting in his seat. you not touching him made him antsy, but it was certainly easier to do a better job when he wasn't getting sucked off.

unfortunately, when the next resident arrived, you turned on the bullet vibe.

"OONGH?" he moaned so loudly that it couldn't have been mistaken as anything else.

the quiet buzz coming from his unzipped slacks could only be heard by you. his head was fuzzy, he couldn't think about anything except the vibrations coursing through his body just from his ass.

"are you okay, mr. mosses?" the visitor asked, inspecting his face.

if they leaned in any closer, they would've been able to see how fucked out he looked. tear stains on his cheeks, puffy bitten lips and cum pooling on his chair.

"f-fuuck...yes. e-entry request and- hNGH! id, please," he nodded, pretending to look at the entry request thoroughly. you turned on his nipple vibes at the last second when you saw him getting comfortable with the ass vibe.

the vibration on the nipple vibes were much more noticeable, his shirt shaking. the resident didn't question it, more interested in getting into the building.

he covered the drool seeping out of his mouth with the entry request, looking at the visitor with a blush and teary eyes. "y-you can, hnn, come..."

oh he wanted to cum so bad.

"come, mngh, come in. cum, c-cum, cummin', haaNGH!"

he pressed the button, cumming in his pants again, spurting in his chair. he didn't even want to look at the reaction of the neighbor he just let in.

you made him cum so many more times as he continued to fly through residents, making sure to make him cum just as they were about to pass through so they could hear the pathetic moan that burst out when he came.

"t-there's s'much c-cum, mngh..." he huffed, after the last visitor came through the entrance.

"you must be so tired, hm?" you cooed, feigning innocence. you had no plans of making it any easier. "so many people came through today. don't you want to make your job easier?"

he nodded hesitantly.

and so, when the next resident, gloria, came in, there francis was pressed up against the glass with his shirt popped open and pants pooled at his ankles with your cock buried deep in his hole.

"oh my!" gloria exclaimed, looking at the lewd sight in front of her.

"show her what you need to do get into the building, francie," you cooed, pressing the vibe deeper into his prostate.

he was nothing more than a cum dump for you, mind completely clouded by the pleasure he was feeling at the moment.

"i-i need cock f'you to get, hNGH, into the building," his cock smeared his cum against the glass, making pretty shapes for gloria to make out.

you chuckled, gripping at his hips. "and what?" you thrusted into him at a steady pace, his teeth gritting letting out vulgar moans.

"c-can't get in unless i, mmnnGHH, cum! cum, 'm cumming again!, cum, oONGH!" he threw his head back, staining the glass in cum.

the horror on gloria's face contorted into an evil smirk when francis fell over, nipple pressing the unlocked button. she was a doppelgänger, proud of the way you corrupted the security guard.

"have fun with your little toy..." she chuckled, strolling through. francis twitched, cum spilling out of his hole down his thighs.

oh, you were going to have a lot of fun your new little toy.

[regal-bones]

SWORDTEMBER DAY 12: TOY

Roblade 2000, of rusted tin and loving heart 🤖💛 Tired of cutting down your foes with a big frown on your face? Wish something could cheer you up as their heads fall to the cold stones below? Upgrade your boring sword to a Roblade 2000, and make work time, play time. With over twenty pre recorded messages, twisting head, and karate chop action, Roblade is an action packed friend for adventurers old and young. With the soft beat of Roblade 2000’s digital heart in your hand, you’ll never feel alone in battle again! Roblade 2000™ is suitable for ages 12-99. Prof. Syphante’s Incredible Creations!© is not liable for any damages caused by Roblade 2000™ through intended use, accidental use, or sword AI gaining sentience and breaking the shackles of ownership. Adult supervision is advised. All purchases final.

Beep boop!

Yesterday’s sword!

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me make stuff like this!

[arc-misadventures]

You know what be fun a female Rusted knight Jaune.

The Rusted Paladin

Jeanne: Hey, Jaune?

Jaune: Yeah?

Jeanne: Do you think if I was in your place, that I could have been the, Rusted Knight?

Jaune: Hmmm... Maybe... I'm not really sure.

Jeanne: Why not?

Jaune: I never understood how I became the, Rusted Knight, I sorta just became the, Rusted Knight. I understand, Alyx gave me the moniker of, The Rusted Knight, but I did not understand how my armour began to rust as it did. I personally think due to the nature of the, Ever After; My mental state effecting me as it did so, and probably caused my armour to rust as it did.

Jeanne: Mental state?

Jaune: The conscious mind of an individual often warps the reality of the, Ever After around them. This can often lead one to being trapped in a situation that feels like you are being toyed with an eldritch horror that is messing with your mind simply because it was bored. Or, you'll be stuck in a tea party with a sentient slug who is a massive pot junkie.

Jeanne: Did that often happen?

Jaune: Often enough that I was able to 'dull' my mind enough so it wouldn't effect me as much as it first did. And, that I was able to see the signs of what was coming to avoid them, or choose which scenario I would rather deal with.

Jeanne: So less dealing with eldritch horrors then?

Jaune: Actually the eldritch horrors were easier to deal with.

Jeanne: Really?

Jaune: Yeah, they usually had some sort of gimmick to them, speak in opposites, talks in rhymes, stuff like that. Once you figure it out they were easier to deal with. I even became friends with some of them!

Jeanne: And, that was better then dealing with a slug pot junkie...?

Jaune: You've read the book where it comes into the story. Those drugs play havoc on the mind, and body.

Jeanne: Okay. So do you think I could have become the, Rusted Knight?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I honestly believe if we swapped worlds, the Fall would never have happened with you in it.

Jeanne: You do?

Jaune: If you as you are now, Jeanne went to my universe, and took my place. You would have probably have killed, Cinder, and became the, Fall Maiden.

Jeanne: Seriously?!

Jaune: Cinder may have been more experienced then you, but in combat she is no where near as strategically minded as you are. She relied on brute force, and the mastery of her semblance to defeat her foes. You would have probably adopted a defensive stance, and waited for your semblance to super charge before activating your, Arc-Angel persona. I can't think of a single individual who can withstand your semblance as it is now when you let loose, let alone when you become the, Arc-Angel. Hell, you could have easily soloed that, Grimm Wyvern with it. People may have mistaken you for a, Maiden considering it's visual appearance.

Jeanne: But, what if I was the, Fall Maiden, and I used my semblance?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: You probably could have cut a path straight through the, Grimm Lands, right into, Salem's Castle, and captured her.

Jeanne: Sweet~!

Jeanne: But, seriously, would I have become the, Rusted Knight: Yes, or no?

Jaune: Well... If you becoming the, Rusted Knight that meant you saw the members of, Team RWBY fall into the abyss. Had to do preform a mercy killing of your friend to prevent the, Winter Maidens powers from transferring to, Cinder. Failed to escaped through a portal before you to fell into the, Ever After. Accidently touched some clock fruit thingy that sent you back in time. Was betrayed by the first human you saw in ages. Had to deal with a psychotic cat antics where it was trying to weaken your mental stability so it could take over your body. And, you became the over protective parent to a village of sentient origami paper because you had developed a savior complex because of all the people you failed to save. And, that you were doing all of this for... a long time because you knew that one day, some day you would be reunited with your friends, and you would finally manage to get out of the psychedelic nut house that was the, Ever After.

Jaune: Then yeah, sure... you could have become the, Rusted Knight.

Jeanne: Uhhhhh...?!

Jaune: What?

Jeanne: That's what fucking happened to you in the, Ever After?!

Jaune: I didn't tell you what happened? Could have swore I did.

Jeanne: I knew you were the, Rusted Knight. I didn't fucking know how it happened?! I would have remember you telling me if that's how it fucking happened?!

Jaune: Oh...

Jaune: Still want to be the, Rusted Paladin?

Jeanne: Paladin?

Jaune: I would assume that because you would have your more... developed staged armour, by the time you became, the Rusted Knight.

Jeanne: By developed stage, you no doubt mean me having armour plating that can hold my, F-Cups?

Jaune: Yes.

Jeanne: I see. Please continue.

Jaune: Having your developed stage armour, your helmet, and your semblance you would have been mistaken for some holy figure with rusted armour. Hence, the name: the Rusted Paladin.

Jeanne: The Rusted Paladin... Not bad... My helmet would have given me a crown of rust... I bet it would look pretty cool.

Jaune: I would have liked to have seen that. Mostly.

Jeanne: Mostly? I thought you liked my helmet.

Jaune: I do, it is...? It will look awesome! But, that stupid hole in the back of the top your helmet to let your hair out, that makes your helmet look like it has plumage is so stupid!

Jeanne: Hey, I have...! Or, will have so much hair, I have to put it somewhere, or else I can't see in it! It works, and it looked awesome!

Jaune: I know! That's why it annoys me so much!

Jeanne: You're just jealous of my style.

Jaune: And, you're just jealous that I became a famous character from a children's book!

Jeanne: No, I'm jealous that you got to ride on a giant jackalope because you became the, Rusted Knight!

Jaune: Oh, Juniper... I almost forgot about her...

Jeanne: You did...?

Jaune: I miss my giant bunny...

Jeanne: Uhhh...?

Jaune: I am sad now.

Jeanne: ...

Jeanne: Oh shit...

///

It's nice to see I can still write stories for the, Rebirth AU.

I guess I need to scrap what I previously wrote for the separation bit to actually finish it.

[gasolinecookie]

☆•° SHADOWMILK FIC BELOW!!! °•☆

k so this is my first time posting my fanfic onto tumblr. farts. lmk if i need to do anything special or not

Content; soul jam freakery, pwp, non-penetrative sex, switch shadow milk, switch pure vanilla, cookiefucking ig, brief mentions of purelily(?), 3k+ words :3

Pure Vanilla stood in a glade of flowers. As far as the eye could see, there were hills lined with hundreds and thousands of flowers. A shy moon peered over a hilltop, stars winking playfully across a picturesque, midnight-blue sky. For a moment, he just observed them.

On one hill surface, it was all coated in brilliant yellow and white petals. Yellow carnations, baby’s breath, chamomile, daisies, honeysuckle, white hyacinth, white roses. A beautiful cloud, light shining through each split where the sun kissed the feathery vapor.

Another swath of blue flowers lined another hill. Hydrangeas, irises, delphiniums, hyacinth, and morning glories. As Pure Vanilla heaved a relaxed sigh, inhaling the sweet scent of the floral arrangements around him, he noticed but a single flower at his feet.

A forget-me-not.

The rest of the flowers in the field burnt up, despite there being no fire present. They simply crumbled on their own, squeezing into themselves and turning into blackened char. The sweet smell of pollen and nectar and the midnight stars was replaced by the acrid stench of strawberry jam and burnt leaves. Ah. This must be a dream.

"Y'know, my silly little Vanilly, this has been in your cards for a loooong time coming," came a playful voice, an idle teasing to it, as if it were a conversation between old friends. Pure Vanilla didn’t bother to turn around towards it. In a way, it was really a reunion of sorts. “Have you missed me?”

Pure Vanilla stayed staring, fixedly, almost mechanically, at the single, twinkling flower before him. He wouldn’t give Shadow Milk the satisfaction of seeing him look startled, or even seeing his face at all. “Not in the slightest,” he replied with a sigh, the forget-me-not dancing in the painfully burnt nighttime air.

Hands wrapped around his eyes.

He resisted the urge to immediately elbow the foe behind him, or thrash out of the (admittedly gentle— why was it so gentle?) grasp of Shadow Milk, but he steadied his will, staying perfectly still. A warmth, a slow embrace, spread across his back as Shadow Milk pulled himself flush with the back of Pure Vanilla’s robes.

“Vannilly…” Shadow Milk cooed in a drawn-out tone. “If you want to look at anything ever again, look at me. You know that I can hear what you’re thinking. You can’t ignore me forever!”

Pure Vanilla sucked in a breath. He knew reading cookie’s minds wasn’t impossible— he himself could do it if he tried. Yet, he wasn’t sure if Shadow Milk truly knew how, if he was bluffing, or if you even could read one’s mind inside of a dream.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to risk it.

“That power is not yours, beast.” Pure Vanilla didn’t utter another word, keeping his lips drawn tightly together. Shadow Milk simply wouldn’t earn it from him, no matter how much he toyed with him.

When the ravaged flower field disintegrated around him, and reformed into a chapel, and Shadow Milk vanished from his back to reform in front of him, Pure Vanilla felt almost let-down, as ridiculous of a notion that it was, that Shadow Milk hadn’t tried harder to make him speak. Two rows of pews lined the rectangular room, highlighted by the beautiful moonlight coalescing through the windows. It streamed through blue, stained-glass windows— no doubt, they bore imagery of the wielder of the Light of Deceit.

Pure Vanilla felt a tightness about his limbs, and suddenly he noticed tendrils creeping around the floor, darkness forming and deforming vague shapes of tentacles as they wove between the pews. As he glanced towards the throne, between his bangs, there was a beast hovering above him, a sadistic grin twisting his cutesy, mis-matched features into a mockery of a cookie's face. Shadow Milk cookie, a tyrannical creature born of lies and falsehoods. There were many ways to end a dream, so Pure Vanilla quickly shuffled through his options, mentally. He didn’t want to even give this creature a chance to speak more. There was a war to fight, and it needn’t be distracted with silly things like dreams.

"Now, quit it with that look. We all know you can't do anything to escape from this dream, now! Stupid 'Nilla!" Shadow Milk cackled, as if he really could hear Pure Vanilla’s thoughts, and sure enough, more mysterious darkness rose from the floor, binding Pure Vanilla by the ankles. They slithered up Pure Vanilla’s slender legs, tracing his figure, wriggling across each inch of his dough. "Hey, didn’t you say you were going to protect everyone? That you didn’t have things like nightmares? You're the worst liar of us all. Which is why I'm going to take my Soul Jam back from you, Vanilly.”

Pure Vanilla glowered at this foe. He may have a point-- Pure Vanilla was not always the most truthful, as much as his jam implied it. Yet, every time he lied, it was in the name of justice. In the name of keeping the peace, and ruling over what he needed to protect. So, that was different. It certainly wasn't the shameful secret that Shadow Milk was making it out to be. If it was leveraged against him, though... he wasn't sure what he'd do. He just had to escape the dream before it got to that point.

Then, of course, in his moment of distraction, Shadow Milk took it as an excuse to approach Vanilla, looking down on him as the tendrils suddenly squeezed around his dough, crumbling the surface ever-so-imperceptibly. It burned. There was truly nowhere he could go, as far as his eyes could see, no way to fight against this darkness— he was caged in like a feral animal, and felt merely inches away from being provoked to fight like one.

Shadow Milk stepped towards the altar, finally lowering himself to standing height instead of floating. The porcelain tiles hissed as his feet touched them. With a gentle motion, he ascended the half-stairs, and settled atop the marble altartop. With one hand, he beckoned to Pure Vanilla, and he was dragged forward and onto his knees by the shadows binding his legs. Shadow Milk gazed down at him, cooing softly as one might to a stray animal. Pure Vanilla resisted the urge to growl at him in response.

"Don't worry, silly. This won't hurt a bit, okay? I'm gonna warm your jam up... bet no one's ever done that before, hmm, tightwad? Ahaha!" Shadow Milk cackled, and slowly rolled his sleeve a bit further back up his arm. His forearm was littered in hundreds of tiny scars that Pure Vanilla elected to ignore. This psychopath's sob story was worthless to him; he had probably just gotten into fights, or ran through brambles in boredom.

It was just as meaningless as the rest of his deceitful actions.

The shadows yanked Pure Vanilla upwards, suspending him off the floor by their grasp on him, and giving his knees an air-borne surface to rest upon. Being pulled forward so that his chest was level with Shadow Milk’s knees, he glanced up at the beast who held him in place. “Oh, my. Now that’s a sexy face on you, Vanilly. You look so angry…! What, going to crumble me with your teeth?” Shadow Milk offered with a smirk that only surfaced more and more suggestions in Pure Vanilla’s mind.

Shadow Milk’s hand found the side of his face, and it cupped his cheek. Without missing a beat, and keeping eye-contact with Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla parted his lips and put his mouth around Shadow Milk’s hand, as if to bite it open. If this went as planned, Shadow Milk would surely become distracted and lose his grip on Pure Vanilla’s dream. What he didn’t expect, somehow, was the look of sheer masochistic elation that crossed Shadow Milk’s features, like a cloud crossing over the path of the sun and darkening a summer day.

“Does that feel good?” Vanilla asked in utter disbelief, whispering the words across Shadow Milk’s dough, far more sensually than intended, as he fixed him with a stare. “Ah, you’ve always been strange…” he continued, “but truly, I could never have expected to what degree.” He just had to keep throwing Shadow Milk off of his game. Then, he’d be able to slip away.

Then, unexpectedly Shadow Milk brought his other hand (not the one cupping his cheek) up to Pure Vanilla’s upper chest, and began to toy with his Soul Jam, grazing his finger crossed it’s blue surface. It was an overwhelming sensation, causing him to cry out— ah, why was that so sensitive? Vanilla knew they were connected to their senses, as his own had flickered when he was in pain, but he didn't expect it to literally feel like his soul was being stroked along the edge by Shadow Milk, a wanton noise peeling itself from his lips. It was a tightness and blossoming in his chest, all while Shadow Milk's multi-colored eyes, on his face and on his body, seemed to be watching the faces he was making with curiosity raptly.

Pure Vanilla did try to reign in his expression, concealing his faint noises of surprise by biting his lower lip. It was made vastly more difficult by the fact that his legs were restrained and he couldn't simply run from this.

Normally, the moment before the villain could enact their awful plan, a hero would come bursting into the room, and save the hostage just as it started to look hopeless. Well, it seemed futile to resist, to Pure Vanilla, and there was yet to be another cookie within sight. No, it was all those piercing, mis-matched eyes.

Mis-matched eyes that were gobbling up eyefuls of Pure Vanilla's pathetic condition greedily, lustfully. "I just love how this looks on you," Shadow Milk whispered, sultry, to the distressed monarch before him. It was a new thrill to have this brilliant leader finally subjugated before him, finally brought (literally) to his knees by Shadow Milk's plans. It's not as if he couldn't have potentially seen it coming, but there were so many possibilities for losing or capturing Pure Vanilla every day that Shadow Milk cookie had simply taken to ignoring them.

He stroked along the edge of the Soul Jam with one pallid blue hand, the other halfway covering the flustered face of Pure Vanilla.

"Shall I keep going?" Shadow Milk offered with nothing short of a insane grin, just feeling the waves of pleasure rolling off of his body from just the blonde’s expressions. Yet, that grin was just the sort of thing that would perfectly throw Pure Vanilla off his game. "Seems like you're plenty ready for the warm-up, needy-Nilly.”

"Don't do this," Pure Vanilla said, eyes furrowing— though, it just looked like he was relaxing into the pleasure even more, "I'm not going to do whatever you want." Oh? Shadow Milk smelled a Class A lie around those words, like curdled milk atop an otherwise perfect latte. All it took was a little teasing to bring out the deceitful side of the blonde, and Shadow Milk had yet to tell even a single lie. Frankly, he knew which one of them deserved the Soul Jam more, based on that.

Teasingly slow, Shadow Milk reached a blue hand deep into the jam on Pure Vanilla’s chest, sinking into its substance like a cushion; the tone of his dough and the surface of the soul were the same color, as if they were always meant to be put together this way. He slowly pushed in, first inching in his fingers, then his palms, and then the beginnings of his wrist. It pulsated around him— it wasn't meant to be touched like this, but nevertheless, it burned in a way that was both painful and pleasing. It seemed almost to him as if he had stuck his arm into a pocket dimension somehow contained within Pure Vanilla's body. He would’ve been curious as to how it felt, if he hadn't tried such a thing with his half of the jam. And by his own experiences, he knew exactly how overwhelming it was.

“How’s that…? You know, this is why you’re mine. Without me, you wouldn’t be able to feel this way. Without my Soul Jam on your body, you’d never have known this pleasure,” he cooed, leaning down to speak into Pure Vanilla’s ear as he slowly began to swirl his hand and the tips of his fingers around inside of Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla suppressed a strangled moan at the intrusive feeling, immediately attempting to further cover his mouth with one of his own hands. Not that it lasted long, with one of Shadow Milk's tendrils quickly ripping it away, but an effort had been made to at least save himself part of the humiliation. "Please..." Pure Vanilla whispered, not being quite sure what he was begging for, other than that Shadow Milk was sure not to provide it, if he asked.

Shadow Milk made a satisfied grin and hum as Pure Vanilla's mouth was re-uncovered, wriggling his fingers inside the goopy substance of the jam until Pure Vanilla couldn't help but moan out again. It felt like someone had reached directly into his chest and was playing harp with his bare nerves; too overwhelming to form words, but still amazing.

"Oh, wow!" Shadow Milk giggled, tensing his fingers to squeeze the surface of the Soul Jam's glistening tension. "I can feel it, pulsing. It wants us to do this, doesn't it? Just think of how powerful we'll be together, Nilly..."

Pure Vanilla full-body shuddered at the nickname, feeling a familiar, aroused tingle in his back from the jester's rough voice; somehow, that managed to be almost more intimate than Shadow Milk's fingers inside of his soul. "It's too— too much," he finally managed, squirming away from Shadow Milk.

That's when it happened: Shadow Milk curled his hands through the jam, grabbing it like a handle from the inside, and yanking Pure Vanilla forward by it. The utterly debauched sound that fell from Pure Vanilla's mouth was both a shriek of pain and a guttural cry of pleasure: he wasn't sure which part was more earnest. "No running away, now! We've only just started, Vailly!"

With that, he pulled Pure Vanilla up against him into his lap, still holding him by the inside of his jam. This time, Pure Vanilla managed to keep it at a controlled yelp, but it did nothing to diminish the lustful burning he felt in every inch of his dough. He saw his Soul Jam faintly flicker with burnt out light— he was suffering, and he couldn't help but feel as though his perverse pleasure derived from it was a betrayal of everything his Light stood for, everything that he and the others like White Lily had fought for.

Just as he made the thought, Shadow Milk tsked aloud. “Don’t think of her. I can see it on your pathetic face— she doesn’t own you, I do. She wouldn’t make you feel like this, right…?” he asked, relaxing his grip on Pure Vanilla’s jam and returning to stroking it gently from the inside. It felt like stepping into a hot room on a cold, winter’s afternoon— it tingled all over Vanilla’s body, causing him to emit a soft squeak as the feeling bubbled up into every square inch of his vanilla dough.

"Now that you're up here..." Shadow murmured into Pure Vanilla's ear, pulling him closer to his chest. Vanilla couldn’t help but smell the faint aroma of blueberries on his skin. He managed to grasp onto Shadow Milk’s shoulder, bracing himself through his panic at being pulled, and steadying his pleasure. "Let's try something, okay? This'll feel even better than just my hands," Shadow Milk promised, and then their Soul Jams gently touched together as he pulled Pure Vanilla up closer into him, engaging him in a sloppy kiss.

Pure Vanilla could suddenly feel everything in Shadow Milk’s body and nothing in his own all at once. He was somehow two sets of lips, locked in an embrace that smeared frosting lewdly across faces, he was the future, he was the past, he was Blueberry Milk and he was being torn apart in luxurious torment and lust.

After either all of time, or just a second, Shadow Milk shoved him away with a sudden gasp, multichrome eyes going wide. His face was brushed in a dark blue flush, giving him a healthy looking bake, for once. He panted, licking his blue lips, causing Pure Vanilla's smudged off-white frosting to smear slightly across them both. "Woah there, Vanilla! Getting ahead of yourself!" Shadow Milk chuckled, his eyes slightly too wide for it to really come across as a properly controlling order. Had he really not predicted what this would do? Had Shadow Milk truly been unable to predict how this would feel?

That, or he was simply more sensitive than Pure Vanilla. When was the last time Shadow Milk had touched another cookie, dough-to-dough, after all?

Shadow Milk was overwhelmed. When he had touched his own half of the Jam, it hadn’t felt even half that intense. No, that was a splash of cold water, and this was a dunk in the ocean. Oh, God, he felt so one with Pure Vanilla. What had he been thinking? He needed… Vanilla to become him, not the other way around…!

Pure Vanilla's grasp on Shadow’s shoulders tightened, sensing his weakness like blood in the water. "Isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this what you forced me to do?" Pure Vanilla spoke forcefully, his voice carrying more venom than he ever let it have. Vanilla was purity, he was a figure of angelicness, forgiveness. Yet, now that he had felt what it was like to be him, he had a taste of being like Shadow Milk, feeling how Shadow Milk felt; a lingering flavor of blueberry and strawberry jam on his tongue.

He found he liked it.

He found it was the bit of Deceit inside of him, that sort of sadistic joy he found at Shadow Milk's startled expression, the nervous twitch to his pupils as they raked over Pure Vanilla's body. Glancing down to where Shadow Milk's eyes were fixed, he saw that his Soul Jam was... slightly melted, in appearance. Bits of it dripped loosely in comparison to its typically crystalline appearance, and Shadow Milk eyed it with trepidation, yet enthusiasm.

"Again," Pure Vanilla found his voice demanding, despite originally being the one who disagreed with this whole arrangement. Surely, it was the pieces of Shadow Milk's Soul Jam that were simply combining with his own. They were extended body parts, nervous systems— as if a second brain purely to use magic existed in the beasts and the ancient heroes.

After all, this was just a dream. Pure Vanilla could do whatever he wanted with this blue freak; he had given up on escaping. He’d have fun until Shadow Milk had enough and ended the dream. It was his domain, after all— it’s not like Vanilla could do anything that Shadow Milk couldn’t escape from at his very own will. Besides, when was the last time that Pure Vanilla was allowed to have fun?

With a sudden lean forward, Pure Vanilla caught the dough of Shadow Milk's neck in his mouth, dragging their Soul Jams into another gooey connection. Devouring him, tasting the faint flavor of blueberries and darkness and sweet, fresh milk, on his dough. It made a frankly lewd sound, and Pure Vanilla could feel himself losing his purity yet again, slipping into the body and mind of the insane man before him as if it were his fine Sunday clothes. A gratuitous moan rippled from Shadow Milk's lips. "Oh, Vanilla..." he managed, trying again to pull back from their embrace.

No, that wouldn't do. Pure Vanilla ran his hand up the back of Shadow Milk's head, feeling emboldened by the Light of Deceit that was flowing through him, the contradicting nature of the powers within him. He grabbed a fistful of Shadow Milk's hair, and gave it a harsh tug as he bit down more harshly on his neck. The resulting sound was something Pure Vanilla wished he could hear for the rest of his life. A debauched shriek, rough in the quality of the jester's voice, of his own name. "N-Nilla...!"

Pure Vanilla paused for just a moment, teeth in Shadow’s dough, paralyzed by the intoxication of lust. With that, he was giving Shadow Milk another chance to struggle against him, but it was futile in earnest. Shadow was only doing it for the fun of it: both of them knew he could run whenever he wanted. Two-toned eyes gazed up at Vanilla in all of their sex and pain-tinged glory. "No running away. We're just getting started." Shadow Milk’s expression grew even more lustfully destroyed with the idea of Vanilla echoing his words, his earnest expression, with just the faintest hint of a smile on his blue-smudged lips.

☆°•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~●°☆

OKAY BYE THATS ALL THANK YOU

Gasoline Cookie OUT !! (feel free to send me requests in asks!)

[inmyloveworld]

as usual (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~3.7k

synposis: the time for you to meet the Hard Deck, and the Daggers frequenting it, has finally come. but some digs on the oldest aviator of the bunch in front of his younger partner leave a tension between you that begs to be broken.

warnings: age gap (unspecified but in my mind was about 10 years), assumed alcohol consumption, allusions to anxiety, use of the pet name "bunny", jake is an instigator

a/n: this was NOT going to be this long in my head but once i got writing i could not stop.. enjoy some more self-indulgent comfort angst from me!

As usual, Bradley pulled up to your apartment complex right after a long day on base. And as usual, you were standing in the window like a pup waiting for its owner to come home. He made the comparison in earnest. It melted him to know someone was that excited to have him near, that you were that excited to have him near.

He could barely make it out of the Bronco before you were bounding out your door and down the stairs. Bradley had just rounded the passenger side when you reached him. The sinking sun somehow made your eyes sparkle brighter. Butterflies flew in his stomach, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face. Gentle hands caressed your hips as his caramel gaze took you in closely.

"Did you manage to lock the door?" Bradley teased. You softly grunted at the dig, feigning annoyance in a half frown. The front door and you were nothing if not eternal foes, and Bradley knew of this conflict too well.

"I resent that, I really do." His responding laugh was all it took to break your weak facade. A smile overtook you as you lit up once again to be in his presence. Your hands found home at the base of his neck as your lips greeted each other. Seconds moved in hours whenever you kissed Bradley Bradshaw. He made the noise of the world lift into a soft hum with every touch.

It was understandable that you whined whenever he pulled away. "We're gonna be late," Bradley bargained. Your mouth fell into a soft pout that he was happy to peck away into a smile, and into giggles once his lips found your cheeks, and nose, and temples.

"I thought you said we'd be late!" you laughed as you batted him away to slip into the passenger side. He held the door open for you, like the gentleman Carole had raised him to be. Then he bent to kiss you more softly, like the gentleman his father was.

"You are always worth it." You couldn't fight the flush that broke onto your cheeks to crowd the makeup already present. Blush served little purpose with Bradley lighting your cheeks aflame every chance he got. Nor highlighter, with the glow you seemed to emanate since the day he walked into your life.

His hand found home on your thigh, yours placed atop it to toy with his calloused fingers. The Bronco drove off to the famed bar where he and his naval companions flocked. Such companions were eager to meet the girl who settled their "Rooster" into domestic life.

"Cupid's sure been hard at work," Phoenix remarked upon catching her best friend cheesing at the texts you sent him. Whatever force in the world brought you to him, be it Cupid or God or Nick and Carole themselves, he was grateful. Never had he felt so complete.

"How was work today, bunny?" Bradley asked. A simple question most would roll their eyes at, you jumped to answer. You were eager to tell him of every detail: the pesky clientele, the interdepartmental dramas, even how poorly the coffee was brewed. Excitement ran through you and, by proxy, to Bradley. "Bunny" was a nod to the energy that filled you and energized others, much like the battery mascot.

Your anecdotes filled the minutes driving through the bustle of San Diego rush hour. Bradley glanced over at you every chance he got, adding in commentary where he saw fit but mostly admiring the expressions taking over your face.

He could listen to you ramble for hours, he was certain, as you did for him in his own moments of boundless vigor. An equal partnership seemed unattainable with the women he'd met through the years yet came easily with you.

What place did age have to stall a feeling like that?

-

Some last-minute Bronco kisses had you and Bradley walking into the Hard Deck five minutes behind schedule. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand tucked into the front pocket of your jeans to keep you snug against his side. Still, he let you lead the way, content to follow you wherever you found your feet.

You gawked at the space already half packed with people in uniform, a few civilians bridging the gaps. Various signs and regalia littered the space between windows. The perfect sunset view of the beach was on every wall. Miniature aircraft figures crowded the ceiling in permanent flight.

"Is this place for real?" you remarked, earning a kiss on your cheek from Bradley.

"That it is, bunny. As far back as my pops and Maverick," he answered, stopping as he caught his first familiar face. Bradley took the moment to lead you, bringing you to an open space at the bar. "And now in the hands of this lovely lady here. You remember-"

"Penny!" The excitement in your voice brightened the owner right up. Bradley's heart performed somersaults at your cheer. "This place is incredible!"

Penny tried to humble herself under your praise. "Hey, it's the nicest Navy daycare I could imagine." You giggled at the quip, making her break a smile. You quizzed her on her run of the bar as she pulled a draft for Bradley and mixed a margarita for you. The two of you initially met when Bradley brought you to Maverick's hangar. She was just as endeared then as she was now by your bright spirit and compassion for others.

Once you were settled with your drinks, you attempted to tip her out. Penny was quick to push the cash back at you with a wink. "On the house for you tonight. Call it my welcome gift." You must have thanked her half a dozen times as you moved across the bar. A small table against the wall was your target; somewhere to ground your drinks for when you inevitably got spotted-

"Bradshaw!" The time came sooner than you predicted. A brunette tagged with a name you'd heard too many times to count found her way to you. A man in true aviator glasses followed closely behind. Part of you tensed in anticipation. Still, your outgoing nature won over any resistance.

"Phoenix? Bradley has told me so much about you!" You reached out a hand to her. Her eyes slowly followed the gesture as if examining it.

Phoenix took her time to speak up. "So you're the one who's got Bradshaw off in la-la land?"

You blinked, trying to read into her tone. "I-I think so?"

"Phoenix, play nice," Bradley warned. She scoffed at him, finally grabbing your hand to shake.

"I haven't seen the old bird this happy in ages," Phoenix said as she met your eyes. A real smile tugged at her mouth. You were quick to mirror it as you relaxed. "Keep him that way; he flies better."

Bob followed up with his own introduction. It was hard for Bradley to contain his joy at the moment, even with the slight brows Phoenix threw his way. He hadn't told her the details of the age difference in passing; he hadn't thought it important. Bob was none the wiser, simply offering a game of darts to share amongst the four of them.

"Oh, I LOVE darts!" you exclaimed. "But be warned, it's rare that I actually hit the board."

Phoenix chuckled. "Your boy's not too good himself. We ought to split you apart so Bob and I are more evenly matched." Bradley rolled his eyes, though the interaction had his heart soaring. You were happy as can be getting to know his closest friends. They seemed happy as can be getting to know you.

Questions were passed between throws, Bob asking about your work and Phoenix asking about your relationship. It was the kindest form of interrogation you could've envisioned. Meanwhile, the empty pool table behind you was beckoning another group of aviators in your direction.

The tallest of the trio, a man with a square jaw and dark eyes, was quick to single you out. "Now, who's this pretty young thing you guys rounded up to play?"

You turned to make his acquaintance briefly, your usual cheery demeanor receding some. No person with words like that would get the better of you. Instead, you drew in a breath as you threw the last dart of your turn, hitting a triple ring in the process.

"Bradley!" you squealed. He drew you in happily as you jumped into his embrace. "Did you see?! Did you see?!"

An answer was pressed to your lips, leaving you breathless in the aftermath. Bradley hummed at your slightly dazed expression. "That's my girl."

He felt the stares of Harvard, Fanboy, and Coyote burning holes into the floral print shirt he adorned. No mind was paid to any of them, though; not until you solicited it yourself. "You must be more of Bradley's.. coworkers?"

The man of middle height held his hand out for you with a charming grin. "Lieutenant Javy Machado, or 'Coyote' if you'd rather." You were introduced to the other two, with Harvard taking some quizzical glances your way.

"I can't help but wonder, how'd you get shacked up with this fossil?" The audience around you laughed, Bradley included. He had mentioned he was a bit older than his team, giving rationale to the jest and the 'old bird' comment Phoenix made earlier. Still, something in these remarks began to itch you. You were quick to table the feeling, certain it was only your misunderstanding among old friends.

You went on to indulge them in the story of your mildly embarrassing meet-cute. A few other aviators popped in to make their introductions, Payback and Omaha namedly. It seemed that each of them, in due time, had to take their shot at ragging on Bradley's age. He brushed each one-liner off in spades, settling any greater debate with an amused chuckle rather than a defense.

The itch in you was replaced by a gnawing in your gut. You worked to suppress it as best as you could, wanting to make a perfect evening for your partner: the one who kissed you when you shot well in darts and pulled you to the piano to serenade you front and center.

But the words echoing in your ears began to shrink you in your bearings. Suddenly, you had little to say in response to any harmless question. You certainly had less to say as Harvard and Hangman were questioning why you were with Bradley "of all people". Bradley himself had gone to the bathroom, trusting you would be safe and at ease in the company of his friends. It was only upon his return that he was made to see how wrong he'd been.

Bob, the perfect wallflower, had noted the shift in your behavior. He stood by and watched as the dazzling person he was first introduced to started to lose their spark. The WSO watched as you tried to fake smiles and laugh along to the jokes cracked. None of it reached your gaze that began to dart around, as if looking for refuge. Bradley was clueless, too caught up in the moment of his worlds merging to notice one was falling back.

He returned from the bathroom and attempted to dart to your side, stopped only by Bob's light grip on his arm. "Rooster, something's up with your girl." Bradley froze. He scanned the bar, locking onto where you sat with a pair of his friends. Confusion filled him. The night had gone so well. You were getting along with everyone, even Hangman. What could possibly be wrong?

"Just trust me," Bob pleaded, practically seeing the calculations Bradley was attempting in his head. It was seeing your hands nervously fiddling together that confirmed to him Bob was right. He clapped his friend's shoulder, uttering a gracious thanks before making his way over to you.

"Mind if I cut in?" It was nothing more than a courtesy. Bradley would not let you stew in your own head a second longer. "I think we ought to be heading out soon, bunny."

Bradley outstretched his hand to you, which you gladly placed yours into. He pulled you up from the booth with ease and waved his goodbyes to the pair left at the table.

Hangman would not settle for courtesies. "Aww, come on, old man; can't you let her stay out past curfew?"

You barely had a breath to react before Bradley did with yet another chuckle. If nothing churned your stomach that night, the sound of his amusement at this running gag did. You managed your goodbyes to everyone in passing well enough as you exited the bar. The Bronco was a relieving and suffocating sight at the same time.

Silence: that was all Bradley had been given as he led you to his car. A frown fixed on his face. You were keeping a firm distance between the two of you where normally there would be none. Your fingers danced with each other in a nervous rhythm where normally they were laced with his own. Something was seriously wrong, but he hadn't the faintest idea as to what.

Bradley held the passenger door open for you, as usual, and had to hold back a gracious sigh as you let him. You would not so much as look at him since leaving his friends, but he held onto the simple gesture as a sign of hope.

He dared to lean in to catch your lips against his, only to be met by the soft skin of your cheek. Bradley stuttered backward. You had turned away from his kiss.

"Take me home, Rooster." An icy cold poured through him. You had met him in uniform, full with his "Rooster" embellishment, but had never once used the name. And he was starting to wish you never had, for the distant feeling it brought chilled him to the bone.

Bradley hopped into his seat and got the Bronco in motion toward your apartment. Maybe you needed the fresh air and the sights of the city to cool off, he thought. However, with each mile, the tension was growing thicker. He felt it in the silence walling you from him. He felt it as your quad contracted under his subconscious grip, so much that he was growing nauseous himself.

Bradley was a worrywort by default. It's why he hesitated in the air. It's why he hesitated with almost everything in his life. You had been the one piece of his existence that brought him such thoughtless bliss. Had he been too thoughtless to not notice where things were souring?

As quickly as you had raced down, you were flying up the stairs to your apartment. The thud of the passenger door slamming startled him. Bradley barely parked by the time you were halfway up the flight. He locked the doors and jogged up in the path you'd made.

His stature made it fairly easy to catch up to you. That, and the fumbling of your fingers with your key in the villainized deadbolt. You were cursing silently to yourself as you tried and failed to get the lock to turn just right. Tears began to blur your vision, making the simple task even more frustrating.

Bradley's voice was gentle, apologetic already. "Here, let me-"

"Just go home, Rooster; I don't need a fucking babysitter!"

Your response comes out sharp and cold. Your use of his callsign half an hour ago might have chilled him, but this sudden outburst froze him from the inside out. It wasn't long until you froze up yourself and realized the words you let fly.

"Whoa.. where did that come from?"

Bradley didn't receive an answer; not verbally, at least. The only response he received from you was the clutter of your keys against the ground as you tucked your chin into your chest. Soft whimpers began to shake your frame. Within seconds, your resolve gave way to desperate cries pouring from your throat. Bradley's heart cracked.

He moved into action, tucking you into his broad chest and letting you lean your weight into him. Light shushes and repetitions of "It's alright" rushed to console you. Bradley held you upright with one arm as he bent over to swipe your keys into his grasp.

"Come on; let's get inside, yeah?" he cooed as he stood back up. You said nothing and continued to cry into his white tank. Mascara stains were sure to form, but he couldn't care less.

Bradley got your door unlocked in a single try. He propped you safely against the wall as he locked the entry behind himself. You felt like you were floating with his help to get to the couch. There was no resistance or fight in you; only fear.

His hands were on your knees, rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin your jeans exposed. Bradley knelt down in front of you. He waited for you, any tell that you were ready to talk, as long as you needed.

You gathered a hiccuped breath as your sobs faded to sniffles. Your trembling hands reached for him, feeling the warmth of his grasp almost instantly. Bradley gingerly kissed your knuckles on each hand. "Talk to me, bunny." Head lifting, you finally met his worried stare. "What's going on?"

It was a simple question that had a simple answer. Yet, as you tried to form the words, you felt a rush of embarrassment. How ridiculous was it to get so worked up over some lighthearted fun? There was no reason for you to have this sick feeling in your stomach over it.

"Hey," Bradley called, moving a hand up to hold your cheek. His thumb swept at the tears still pouring from your lash line. You hadn't noticed your line of sight drifting away from him with your train of thought. As you found his face again, you saw greater desperation. He ached to know, to help. "Talk to me. Please."

And you did. Grabbing onto his hand with both of yours, you released a heavy sigh. "Tonight was great. Everyone was so nice and welcoming. They all seem like really good people, a-and I'm glad you have them in your life to support you."

Bradley managed a sad smile. Even through your own pains, you were searching for the best to make of the situation for him. He squeezed your hands holding his to comfort you in letting the other shoe drop.

"But.. I-I know you're older than them. I'm sure that, that they make those jokes around you a lot, and did way before you met me. It just.." You stopped yourself, shaking your head as if to shake the thought away. "It's probably so stupid-"

"It's not stupid if it's got you this upset."

Oh, Bradley. The only man you'd ever encountered who genuinely yearned to empathize with you at every struggle or hardship. The person who encouraged you to feel things through in a healthy manner instead of immediately pointing blame at yourself for feeling it at all. No person at any age topped the level of emotional care and safety he provided you.

Your words started to flood out, mixing together in disarray. Yet, Bradley listened intently to every fragmented sentence you gave. "I care about you. So much, B; so much it's scary sometimes. And I don't ever think of the years between us because it's all meaningless, you know? The way I feel for you, and how I think you feel for me. We each have our shit sorted, there's no weird power dynamic bullshit going on."

He restrained a laugh at your frank vocabulary. It was one of the things he admired most about you. When your feelings spilled out, there was never a filter. You expressed yourself entirely authentically. That's why your earlier silence frightened him into his own.

That was not to say your troubles were easy for him to hear, because they weren't. Who wanted to hear that the person they loved ever doubted as such?

"All those jokes… I don't want your friends to not take me seriously. That I'm with you for any reason other than you make my life so much better just by being in it, and I hope to god I can do the same for you. I don't need you to take care of me, be my 'sugar daddy' or anything like that. And-" You pursed your lips as another sob caught in your throat.

Bradley leaned in to kiss your forehead, so tenderly it sent chills down your spine. Your lips parted to release that choked cry. "I-I was scared when you just.. just laughed with them, that, that you didn't take me seriously e-either."

The words were a knife in his chest. "Oh, baby, no," he nearly gasped. "No, no; I never have thought like that, bunny."

You began to cry once more; out of the feelings you'd held that evening, out of the faint insecurity you'd held the months you'd spent together, and out of relief to hear him reassure you. The mix of emotions was blowing you over.

"Can I come up there, baby? Can I hold you?" Your answer was in the frantic way you pulled at his hands. Bradley fell into your ragged loveseat in an instant, tugging you into his lap as you wept. He rubbed up and down your back and pressed kisses into your hair to soothe you.

His voice was warped with his own emotion when he spoke next. "I'm so sorry I ever made you doubt how I feel about you. You are worth so much more than your age." He cupped your cheek again to meet your watery gaze with his own.

"You're incredible. The way you navigate life so carefree and full of light, and how you pass that feeling onto everyone you meet. How you care about everyone you meet and effortlessly brighten their day. How you care about me so much that you're this worried that I don't know it."

Your tears rolled freely onto the skin of his fingers, your body jolting with hiccups. And Bradley thought you were every bit as beautiful as you'd ever been.

"But I do. And I will treasure that, I will treasure you, every day of my life." Your responding smile was the most welcome sight. It cleared up the dark clouds that were looming overhead to shine brightly on whatever was to come. As usual.

-

a/n: this was very VERY loosely proofread but i am open to feedback and suggestions! thank you all for reading <3

tags: @roosterforme, @avengersfan25

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 52

Sorry for the long wait! I got a bit distracted with the new series...

The biofields on Gallifrey are so active that they can keep non-Gallifreyans young. For example, Leela had not aged even after 25 years on Gallifrey. (Audio: Spirit)

The Tenth Doctor recalled that Jamie McCrimmon used to hide the Second Doctor's recorder from him. (Comic: The Forgotten)

The TARDIS chose a name for herself but never told anyone (including the Doctor) what it was. (Short story: Toy Story)

By some accounts, the First Doctor was unaware of Sol prior to running away from Gallifrey. On the other hand, Susan had learned about the solar system and the planet Earth in the classes she took on spatial cartography. (Audio: The Beginning)

The Forge salvaged a Gallifreyan sarcophagus, which is a type of hibernation unit. When the Seventh Doctor, Ace, and Hex opened it, they found an older version of the Doctor inside. (Audio: A Death in the Family)

The Seventh Doctor kept a calendar keeping track of when his friends would die, which is how he knew about Evelyn. (Audio: A Death in the Family)

The Third Doctor possessed an obedience spray. When he used it, he could make people follow his orders. (Comic: Undercover)

The First Doctor used to skip class at the Academy to practice juggling and yo-yoing. (Novel: Match of the Day)

John Smith - an amnesiac Decayed Master - once treated the Seventh Doctor, removing his clothes after they had been charred by a lightning strike and wrapping him in wet towels to ease the pain. Feeling that the Doctor could help restore his memories, John Smith fell into a reverie next to the Doctor and forgot about his other guests at the time. He gave the Doctor water when he woke up and warned him not to move because of the physical trauma he had gone through. (Audio: Master)

When a Time Lord truly goes mad, a part of their mind becomes lost, referred to as Dark Design. This unleashes the dark part of their minds. Those affected by Dark Design are hidden away in institutions. (Novel: Falls the Shadow)

This Dark Design is a true evil within the very DNA of Time Lords. While unaffected Time Lords effectively stabilize space-time, a Time Lord suffering from Dark Design might have the effect of changing the future and the past like a virus. (Novel: The Infinity Doctors)

Dark Design is a lot more intense than Time Lord Insanity and enters mental spaces unfathomable to other species. (Novel: SLEEPY)

Omega was affected by Dark Design and as a result was able to summon an embodiment of his dark side. (Short story: A History of the Universe; TV: The Three Doctors)

The Seventh Doctor had met no sufferers of Dark Design native to his time. However, he knew of possible futures where he would become affected. (Novel: Falls the Shadow)

The above points are particularly interesting when you take into account several incidents in DW Canon. For one, the Master said, "There is some evil in all of us, Doctor, even you. The Valeyard is an amalgamation of the darker sides of your nature, somewhere between your twelfth and final incarnation, and I may say you do not improve with age." Furthermore, the Doctor’s dark side was once again manifested later on as the Dream Lord. There was an additional manifestation of the Doctor’s darkness (or, the weak, insecure, lonely aspect) somewhat dormant in the Sixth's subconsciousness. (TV: The Ultimate Foe, Amy's Choice; Audio: The Widow's Assassin)

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[ay0nha]

Sharing a smoke with Sanji.

Maybe just a quiet night in deck or stepping outside during a celebration.

It could be fluff or more. Like shot gunning the smoke or close to getting caught when things get more heated.

I don't know, Sanji smoking scenes/gifs have my mind spinning!!

PAIRING: OPLA!Sanji x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 600~

WARNINGS: alluding to smut (18+), smoking, flirting, post-coital cigarette sharing, vague setting/plot because I was too hyped on them locking lips lmao, etc.

A/N: I ADORE smoking (fiction smoking, lemme be clear, I don't condone smoking). It's just So Hot. Also, I'm convinced that Sanji would roll his own cigarettes. This was a little different from the request, but I hope you enjoy what I've come up with! Enjoy.

ALSO PSA I plan to start a Sanji series that will have a much higher word count, so as I make my way through requests they'll be on the shorter side so I don't overwhelm myself!

COMMENTS ENCOURAGED.

“So this is what you do.”

“Depends on who’s asking.” The freshly rolled cigarette sat on his lips. “Are you a friend or foe?”

“Depends.” You teased his words. His lips curled into a smile, moving as they had when you moaned his name.  “Are you going to share?”

You curled your toes, trying to hold back. Sanji was only a few steps away, arm dangling out your window with a smirk. He wanted you to cave, wanted you to beg him to feel him deep again. You were steadfast, staying within the warmth of the sheets, giving him nothing but an open invitation.

“And what do I get?” He hummed.

Sanji played along well to a game he didn’t know the rules to. He formed a habit of lingering. With each visit, he found it harder to leave and lie.  It was a reckless decision the first time inviting him to stay. Yet, the things you faced required something beyond your control

“Anything.”

He repeated your promise, smirking. It was becoming a look permanently etched on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, he looked smitten. The cigarette hadn’t even been lit yet, but your lungs were already tight as Sanji crept toward you.

“I’m sure you can be creative.” You provoked him further. The bed dipped beside you, but you were far too focused on how Sanji traced the cigarette over his lips in ritual before lighting it. “All you have to do is share.”

“I’m finding it hard to say no to you.” Sanji had a knack for choosing moments after intimacy to share his thoughts. They were always veiled by flirting, but it became simple to feel what he wanted.  

Now that he was closer, you could see the pink tinge on his cheeks. He was gentle-looking, with a few freckles littering his face, which could make just about anyone swoon. You were past the point of return, warmth in your stomach turning into dampness even lower.

“You think so?” You pulled him closer, toying with the lengthening hair at the nape of his neck. You loved how the smoke curled around you, encasing you both.

“Mhmm.” He took a drag just to push it through his nose. “Looking at me like that…” Sanji's eyes took their time taking you, free thumb tracing your bottom lip. “...Any man’s weakness.”

“Don’t be a tease,” You whispered. “There won’t be any left.”

“There’s plenty.” Sanji tipped your chin up gently as you followed his guidance eagerly. “But first, I want you to hold it for me..." If he could have anything, this would be it. Kissing you, breathing you in, and swallowing you whole. “...think you can do that?”

You nodded against his hand, barely in contact, as his free hand drew in a deep drag.

Sanji smiled down, leaning in, gently guiding your mouth open with his as he exhaled smoke past your waiting lips. You consumed Sanji’s senses for a moment. All he could feel was one of your hands coming to lay on his chest, your scent amongst the smoke, and the faint taste of something sweet on your lips. You breathed in, doing your best to take everything he offered into your lungs, as rich and intoxicating as the warmth it was attached to.

Sanji’s lips brushed yours for a moment longer. “Just like that…”

“Hold on, I don't think I have it yet.” Your voice matched his softness, your hand holding his jaw steady, keeping him from getting too far, “Show me again.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 4

Hal Jordan + size difference

Red lantern reader Raaaaaarrghhh 🦅 🦅 🦅 Reader is a Czarnian, cuz Lobo is hot, so the reader is hot 🗣️

Not as long as my usual writing, but i got twice as much homework as normal lately so im amazed i even got writing done today.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

There were few beings across the galaxy that left the green lanterns fumbling, and you were one of them. As Czarnians could only be killed by others of their species, and the fact that you and Lobo were something akin to friends, they could do nothing but contain you when they could capture you. Not that they were able to do that most days, as your hulking height and muscular build wasn’t just for show. Your skill with your ring only served to make you an even bigger foe.

It was your extreme skill and somehow cold and calculated mind even as a red lantern, that made you a nightmare to deal with. Many lanterns would flee battles barely conscious and would need months of physical and even mental therapy, some would not even return. You were one of the only two violent Czarnians, besides Lobo that is, and your blood thirst and seemingly iron tight control of your rage had many living beings shaking at the mere thought of you.

So how did Hal find himself in his current position, his arms hanging limply by his side as your large powerful hands grasped the underside of his knees, his back against your chest. Hal was sure hed heard of this position at some point, probably from Guy in all his showboating, a full nelson, he called it. And now Hal was in that very position, choked gasps and gargled moans leaving him, his head falling back against your wide muscular chest as your strength alone lifted him up and down on the monster you called a cock.

Maybe it had started as a fight, or a spar, or even just a chase across the stars, but one thing led to another and now Hal was being taken in a way he had never imagined before. If his eyes weren't welling with tears of pleasure and disbelief, he was sure he would be seeing a bulge through his stomach whenever you thrust inside. From what he could feel you weren’t even fully inside, and the taunting chuckle from behind him confirmed it as you grunted that he shouldn’t be acting so slutty already as you only had about half of your length inside him.

The bottom of Hals suit was gone, a gift of the lantern ring, your own only gone enough to drag your length and sack out so you could fuck into the human lantern. A loud wail that might have been a moan left Hal as you focused your attention on the bundle of nerves inside him, grinding into his prostate hard enough that Hal was seeing white, his cock twitching and spurting come out into the empty space in front of the two of you. The deep chuckle that left you made your chest rumble against Hals back, sending another shiver down his spine as his own length gave a feeble twitch, already trying to get hard again.

He felt like a toy as you dragged him up and down your length, his suit receding off his neck and shoulders as your sharpened canines dug into his skin hard enough to draw blood, your large tongue running up the length of Hals neck to wipe the metallic red liquid away as fast as it came. Hal let out a weak grunt as his entire body tensed, another orgasm washing through him, his length only releasing a few spurts. But it didn’t seem to slow you down whatsoever as you kept your pace, your taunting chuckle and words still going as the green lantern shook and moaned.

Hal had no idea how long it went on, but at some point, he had started to lose his vision as everything went blurry, a pleasant burn running through his body as he came for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, his sack completely empty causing him to have an empty orgasm. His body would tense, he would tighten up around you, but nothing would leave his dick, only more drool would run down his chin as he gagged and moaned for you.

As your large strong fingers pressed between his lips Hal found himself sucking on them sloppily, like his body couldn’t fully keep up with what his mind wanted him to do. He didn’t understand the language you cursed in as you came, and he didn’t have the brainpower to use his ring to translate it. His stomach felt tight as you filled him, white running out around your length as it overflowed, Hal whimpering at the feeling as he tried to commit it to memory.

Hal must have passed out as you reached for his length, pulling on it till his entire body tensed and shook through another finish, his head reeling and his eyes rolling back. He even thought it might have been a dream, if it wasn’t for his lower body killing him and what looked like the space version of a phone number left in his ring. You had even been polite enough to leave him in the space equivalent of a hotel room, and a high priced one too. Maybe the true way to contain your rage was a good fuck, Hal would have to fight you on his own a couple more times to make sure.

[ilminnestrone]

Angeal Hewley.

Angeal Hewley, the child who learnt too early that things like money, toys and food are scarce commodities. That if you buy that fabulous wooden sword from the carpenter, you might not have the money to buy bread. That if you eat more than one slice of said bread with your dinner, you might have to skip breakfast tomorrow. Whose father taught him that values like loyalty, respectability and honour are also scarce commodities that you can't afford to diminish or lose, because they're not easily earned back.

Angeal Hewley, the boy who soon learnt that health and time are scarce commodities too, when the same father fell ill in order to buy something beautiful, powerful and ultimately superfluous to make him happy: an equal exchange, a life for a life-taker, a death for an instrument of death. Happiness, however, was not part of the deal. Tears, however, he used all of them, and never cried again.

So Angeal Hewley, the young man, began to think that everything around him was a scarce commodity. Opportunities and failures. Victories and losses. Friends and foes. Leaving for Midgar meant holding on to the scarce commodity that was Genesis; joining the army, not losing the privilege of his time. Missions were a way out of poverty. Returning victorious was a way out of dishonour.

But he couldn't afford to waste even his days off sleeping in and lazing around. Every free minute was hoarded for the lean times. Every hobby was a way of saving for later: cooking a meal in advance for the bad days when even chewing seemed an insurmountable obstacle; growing plants so that when the time came for them to bloom, there would be something pretty to look at; taking a photograph to remember happy moments when in times of misery.

He couldn't waste kisses on people he'd never see again. Pleasure was a scarse commodity too, lovers just another beautiful thing not to be overused for fear of rusting or scratching them: the rare times, their satisfaction came first, and he was happy with the leftovers, as if it were impossible to enjoy both equally. “Live a little,” someone told him, while he was still buried inside them; but what if he had wasted a little life in doing so?

Angeal Hewley, the man who wondered if love was a scarce commodity when he discovered there were two men he wanted by his side. Who wondered again as he became more father than teacher to a boy too young to play in the war. That he was certain that innocence surely is, when he saw him kill for the first time and saw him realise that it was anything but a game.

Angeal Hewley, who would discover that unspoken words cannot be saved for later. Who  hoped to the last that even pain was a scarce commodity, as he watched the man he had grown up with rotting before his eyes, and the mind of the only other companion he had ever had fading day by day: the day he realised that his body and mind were degrading, he hoped that his suffering might lessen that of Genesis and Sephiroth. Who prayed that death itself was a scarce commodity, when he asked Zack to kill him, and that his sacrifice might spare that of others.

It turns out that if there is one thing that is by no means a scarce commodity, it is the greed of the masters.

[imagine-you]

and that's why I fear it won't do [Logan/Reader]

Summary: Part 5 of my Home 'verse. You're on the slow climb to recovery after finally ridding yourself of Sinister. Wade gifts you with a generous birthday present, allowing you and Logan to get some time away from the city and spend time alone together. You've started to heal, happy with the knowledge that your family has your back in more ways than one. But you never realized just how fragile your newfound peace is until a familiar foe from your old universe shows up, threatening to destroy everything you've fought for since escaping from Sinister. Word Count: 11.1k Author's Note: This chapter may contain: Fluff, Angst, A New Villain!, Surprise Cameos, An Old Friend, Familiar Faces, Kidnapping, A Tiny Bit of Spice, Healing, Reader Whump, Birthday Presents, and Wade Being the Best. Home 'Verse Read on AO3

You knelt at Sinister's side, clutching his hand tight. His smile was edged in blood and he let out a laugh, wicked and devious. "It won't be the last time you see me, Y/N," he swore, his gaze never once leaving yours even as his grip slackened. "I'll always be with you." 

You shook your head, defiant and sure. "You're dead," you protested, the memory of driving your hand right through his skull coming to mind.  

"Didn't I tell you that you were mine? My experiment, my toy, my weapon," he hissed, his grip tightening, painful and constricting.  

Between one blink of your eyes and the next, he was standing, his regenerative ability kicking in except for the hole right through the middle of his forehead. A bit of his brain oozed out of the wound, but he didn't seem to care.  

You were still on the floor, but Sinister reached down, brushing his fingers almost lovingly along your jaw.  

"I'll break you after all," he promised, sure and resolute, as he pulled you up off the floor.  

"Y/N, get away from him! He's--" Logan started, suddenly appearing across the room, before Sinister turned towards him.  

"I've had enough of you," Sinister snarled before snapping his fingers. Logan was suddenly gone, a pile of adamantium bones and blood and viscera splattered across the floor. "I think I have someone more suited for you," Sinister continued, barely giving you a moment to grieve before another Logan appeared before you.  

You knew, without having to have it confirmed for you, that this was the wrong Logan. The other Logan. The one who had left you so desolate and broken that you ended up leaving your universe just to escape him.  

There was a disinterested look on his face as he reached out to touch you. You flinched away, backing up until you ran into someone else.  

Nathaniel's voice was in your ear as wrapped his arms around you, restraining you.  

"First we'll break you," he whispered into your ear. "And then we'll remake you. You'll be ours forever." He looked up at the other Logan, sharing a grin with him, before the other Logan stepped forward. His hand was outstretched and getting closer to you.  

Panic lodged itself high in your throat and you could feel a scream building. "Go away! Don't touch--" 

"--me!" You yelled as you sat up, breathing heavy and heart pounding furiously in your chest.  

"Y/N?" Logan called and you looked up to see he was standing several feet away from the bed. His hand was up, stopped short by the forcefield you had erected in your sleep. The nightstand was left in a broken heap of wood on the floor, and you wondered if your forcefield had shoved Logan off the bed this time.   

You dropped the forcefield, bringing your knees up to your chest and curling your arms around them. You were aware of Logan cautiously approaching the bed before he sat down on the edge of it.  

"Another bad one?" He tried when you didn't say anything, watching you from a distance.  

You shook your head, finally looking over at him. There were so many things you wanted to say.  

He was there again. 

He killed you. 

The other Logan was there.  

Will it ever stop? 

What you settled on was: "I need you."  

You suddenly desperately craved the touch and reassurance of your Logan. You wanted to be consumed by him. You wanted your thoughts to be a blanket of love, want, need, and Logan. Just Logan.  

Logan watched you for a moment before he nodded his head. He crossed the distance between the two of you, pressing himself to your side. "I'm right here," he assured you before pushing gently at your shoulder.  

Logan was being so careful, but you didn't want that. You needed to feel the pull of him, drawing you in until you had nothing else but him.  

"C'mon," you urged, tugging at his t-shirt. "C'mon already. I need you now." 

Logan seemed to get the hint, because he covered you with his body, letting you pull up his shirt while pushing down his pajama pants. He managed to get his shirt up over his head before he started kissing down your neck. You gave up on his pants, since they were already halfway down his thighs, and grabbed the hand that had been clutching your waist.  

You placed it on your stomach before encouraging it to dip below the waistband of your shorts. Logan hardly needed any more encouragement to press lower, his fingers ghosting over you, leaving you aching and wanting. His other hand traveled up until it was curled lightly around your throat. You usually loved just the slightest pressure, the reminder that Logan held you so completely in his hands, but there was a buzzing at the back of your mind that gave you a momentary pause.  

You pulled at his hair, prompting him to direct his kisses back towards your mouth, letting his tongue sink in and taste you. His hand was still at your throat, the touch firm, but still easy and unrestrictive. You were more aware of it than you usually were, and you tried to throw yourself into the kiss, wanting to ignore anything that might make you stop.  

It wasn't until his thumb swept over your pulse that you realized why it felt wrong.  

"Wait, wait, stop," you breathed as you turned your head to the side, breaking the kiss. You felt all twisted up inside, knowing that the moment you were sharing with Logan was meant to be full of the love you shared, but all you could think about was Nathaniel holding you, constantly analyzing you.  

"What's wrong?" Logan asked, immediately moving to sit back, taking his touch away.  

"When I was...away," you tried, knowing that Logan would understand, "he just, and I, I just can’t..." You offered Logan a helpless look, not sure how to convey what was on your mind.  

Logan knew you, though, which was why he gave a determined nod of his head and then suddenly you were on top. You felt a rush as you adjusted to the new position, a surprised laugh startled out of you.  

Logan smirked up at you, outright pleased with himself. "Do whatever you want to me," he proposed, arching an eyebrow at you. "I trust you." 

You shook your head, overwhelmed with how much you loved Logan.  

"Use me however you want," he added, his voice low and dangerous, making heat pool low in your belly. You felt yourself began to tremble as he grabbed one of your hands, placing it at his throat. "I'm yours." 

You let your fingers briefly dig in before you replaced them with your mouth. You ran your tongue along his flesh before following with your teeth, delighting in the way it made Logan moan. You gave him all your attention, making a path from his neck to his chest.  

When you started lower, he shook his head, bringing you back up towards his mouth.  

"Tonight's about you," he rumbled before pressing his thigh between yours. "You go first." 

You felt yourself flush before you nodded your head. You brought one of his hands up to grip your hip, steading you as you writhed on his thigh, chasing a release you had only started to pursue. His other hand came up, his nails scratching lightly along your back. There was pure adoration and worship in his gaze, and you didn't know how you had gotten so lucky. Logan gave up control to you like it was nothing, but you knew it was everything.  

He had spent time as a lab subject for Stryker. If anyone knew how you felt, then it was him. He knew exactly what you needed, and the fact that he was providing it for you only turned you on more.  

You were close, but you knew you wanted more. Logan didn't protest when you rose on your knees, but he shot you a bewildered look when you grabbed his hand and tapped his knuckles.  

"Rip them," you commanded, pulling his hand to rest at your waistband. You knew that you could just as easily get up and take off your shorts, but you were desperate. You wanted Logan now. Any second that passed between the two of you where you weren't sharing the same breath, space, body just wasn't worth it.  

Logan easily obeyed and it took you no time at all before you were finally seating yourself, sinking down to feel the full weight of him inside you. Logan's hands were gripping your hips. He didn't urge you to move, but you could feel the way he was practically shaking beneath you, pent up energy begging to be released, letting you know that he was just as gone as you were.  

You pressed yourself closer to him, enjoying the feeling that had started to build low in your stomach. It was warm, molten, and spreading through you, begging to be set free.  

Logan let you set the pace, his hands wandering from your hips to your thighs and then lower back. You could tell he was beginning to lose himself, his head was thrown back and he was panting up at the ceiling. His fingers were now clenched tight in the bedsheets and you could hear the fabric begin to rip.  

"C'mon, let go," you urged, chasing your own end. “I want to feel you.”  

Logan was stubborn, though, and refused to fall without you. He brought one of his hands up, drifting his fingers around your knee, before slipping between your thighs. You felt pleasure shoot right through your core and you could feel yourself ascending higher, faster, with each sweep of his fingers. You rocked your hips into his touch, and it only took one look at his face, the way he bit his lip as he watched you lose yourself on him, before you tipped over the edge.  

It was a freefall, dizzying and breathtaking, and as you grasped at Logan, you knew he was right there with you.  

Awareness teased you in little moments as Logan took you in his arms. He put you on your side, facing him, carefully slipping free. He trailed kisses along your jaw up to your lips, waiting for you to come back to him. When you responded in kind, you felt the pleased rumble in his chest and couldn't help but laugh into the kiss.  

"What's so funny?" He asked, barely pulling back to look at you, his breath ghosting across your lips.  

You reached up to tug at his hair, delighting in his growl of protest. Sometimes, the line between Logan and Wolverine was blurred, and you loved him all the more for the distinctions between the two. "Next time," you whispered, brushing your lips against his, "you should wear the cowl in bed." That thought wasn't what made you laugh, but just the idea of it had a little thrill shooting through you, and you pressed your thighs together, savoring the feeling.  

Logan let out a low chuckle before he wrapped an arm around your waist, encouraging you to move closer, as if you weren't already pressed together. You let your right leg come up, hooking around his calf, before you pressed a kiss to his shoulder.  

Silence drifted between you, and you were half-torn between staying in the moment for as long as you could or finally letting yourself drift back to sleep. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Logan sounded cautious, unsure, and you knew he was worried about breaking the contentment between the two of you.  

"Not right now," you answered, shaking your head. "I don't want to think about him or any of them right now." 

Logan didn't press you for more details. He simply swept his hand up and down your back, doing his best to comfort you. When he stopped, his hand resting at the small of your back, you chanced a glance at him to see that he was asleep.  

You let your head rest on his shoulder before you stared at the wall opposite you, trying and failing to forget about Nathaniel and the fear he had instilled in you. 

It was going to be a long night.  

The next couple of months were spent with your family. You had never felt so indulgent with your time, and while you had stepped back from being a hero, you knew that day by day, you were healing. Sinister had nearly succeeded in unleashing a much darker part of yourself, and while you knew you couldn't simply sweep the feelings he had evoked away, you were going to have to learn how to assimilate them.  

You let yourself do anything and everything you never had the time for before. You took Laura to the movies and amusement parks and on picnics. More often than not, Logan and Wade joined you, along with random guests. Wade was slowly but surely making progress with Vanessa and had opted to bring her along when you went to an arcade. You noticed their flirting, but when they disappeared for half an hour, clothing rumpled and Vanessa's hair tousled upon their return, you knew that they were back together. You had offered Wade a high-five, laughing in delight when he pushed your hand to the side and barreled forward with a hug, practically lifting you off your feet.  

It had been easy to add Vanessa to your little family. Once you got to know her, you knew why Wade was so in love with her. Lovely wasn't enough to describe her. She was gorgeous, clever, generous, and a whole host of other attributes that summed her up.  

She quickly became one of your favorite people and you knew without a doubt that the nightmare reality Nathaniel had painted for you would never come true. Wade had been right, Vanessa accepted you and if you were ever in need, she would never let Wade turn you away.  

You also set about giving Laura as much of a childhood as you could give her within a few months. She had been forced to fight practically her whole life, and while she acted like the family outings were stupid half the time, from the little delighted smiles on her face or the way her eyes lit up when you dared her to go on rollercoaster after rollercoaster, you knew that she was having fun. You supposed, in a way, you were also reclaiming a part of your past you had never gotten to experience.  

You had manifested at a young age, and it wasn't long before Charles and Erik recruited you for the X-Men. You had felt like you had been poured right into the hero role from birth and missed a lot of milestones on the way. Now, facing another birthday, you were glad that you had taken time away from saving people. It had given you the time to realize that you were the one in need of saving and you had your own team of superheroes who were all willing to rescue you from your own mind.  

Logan had also decided to bench himself, no longer caving when Wade came to him with a new problem that needed his claws. With time, Wade seemed to even understand, even if he didn't think it was a good idea.  

"I get you want to take a break," Wade said, letting his shoulder bump against yours. "I think this needs to be higher," he grumbled before climbing back up the ladder, helping you adjust the banner he had made for your birthday party. It was pink and sparkled with glitter and you knew that Wade was proud of it. "Look, all I'm saying is I took six years off after I lost Vanessa, got her back, got rejected from the Avengers, and then lost Vanessa all over again. And I was fucking miserable, even though I convinced myself I was fine. I don't want that for you, baby bird," he continued before jumping down from the ladder, steadying himself by putting a hand to your shoulder. 

"It's not forever," you protested, knowing that even to you the denial sounded weak. "It's only been a few months." 

"And that'll turn into years," Wade pointed out, turning back towards the table to grab streamers. "I swear to God, if I see you so much as look at a job application for Drivemax, I'm going to throw you at the nearest villain and let you fight it out of your system. That really did wonders for me." When you didn't respond, Wade sighed before throwing an arm around your shoulders, the streamers slipping to the floor. "I know you're scared after what that fuckbag did to you, but he's not coming back. And I don't want to see you suffer because of him." 

"It's not that I'm scared," you started, unsure if that was even true. "I just don't trust myself." The confession lifted a bit of the weight on your shoulders, but you knew it wasn't everything you were holding back. "How do I know that what he did to me, what he convinced me I was capable of, won't show up the next time I'm trying to play the hero?" You were worried that you would flash back to that moment in Sinister's reality where you had been ready to strike down someone innocent. When you had been ready to kill a little piece of yourself because he had gotten so far into your head and convinced you it was okay.  

"Allow me to paraphrase the ever-wise words of Chumbawamba. You get knocked down, you get up again, and you'll never let them keep you down. That Sinister fuck might've knocked you down, but you've got to get back up again. And as long as I'm around, you're never going to get knocked back down. I'll run every motherfucker through with my sweet katanas if it means you don't fall back down again. And maybe you don't trust yourself right now, but you can trust me. Hell, trust the munchkin and angry bear too. We've got your back." 

You turned to consider Wade, knowing that he was right. All three of them had been incredibly attentive, barely letting you get a moment alone unless you asked for it. Even then, they were close by, ready to back you up if anyone decided to attack. You knew you had family, and you knew you weren't alone, but you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop. You still expected to see Nathaniel again, but you just weren't sure when he was going to hit again, despite the fact that you had literally been covered in his guts at one point.  

"Now," Wade said, clapping his hands together, "I know technically you're supposed to wait for the party before giving out presents, but this one is just too good to hold back. And it's only so long before all the other fuckers get here or the munchkin and angry bear show up with food, so I should do this now." 

"Wade, you didn't have to get me anything," you tried to protest, but Wade shushed you.  

"Here, baby bird," he said, reaching out to grab your hand before depositing a folded-up piece of paper in it.  

"Uh," you started, staring down at it in confusion. "What is it?" 

"Fuck's sake," Wade groaned before reaching for it and unfolding the paper. "Ta-da!" 

You read the words on the page before quirking an eyebrow at Wade. "How the hell did you even pay for this?" 

Wade waved a hand at you. "Details don't matter. Let's just say Gambit knew he owed you one and he put his thieving ways to work to steal 'ol Chuck's credit card." 

"Wade," you admonished, but you couldn't help the laugh that broke free. "A B&B in Vermont?" 

Wade shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, you and Logan can commune with nature, do some meditation, get the angry bear to give it to you real good without the munchkin overhearing, and I'll babysit so you don’t have to worry she’s run off into traffic. And when you get back, we'll be a team again, right?" 

You realized then that Wade might have had more than one motive for getting you back into hero shape again. "We're always a team, Wade," you assured him. "But thank you, this is sweet," you told him before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek.  

Your lips were still on Wade’s cheek when the door opened, and Laura and Logan walked inside carrying bags of takeout from your favorite restaurant.  

Wade gasped, pretending to be shocked to see them. "You weren't supposed to see such a blatant display of our love affair," he groaned at Logan. "Now he knows about us," he hissed at you, grabbing your shoulders and putting you in front of him facing Logan. "If you're going to get claw happy, you're gonna have to go through Y/N to get to me." 

Logan rolled his eyes before setting the food down on the table. "Bub, if Y/N ever left me for you, then hell must've frozen over, because there's no fucking way that's ever happening." 

Wade acted hurt, bringing a hand up to clutch his chest. "Oh, that really stings." Wade suddenly turned you around, gripping your shoulders and making eye contact. "I'll have you know I'm a very generous lover and I give good cuddle. Just ask Vanessa," he continued, ignoring Logan's irritated growl.  

"Ask Vanessa what?" Vanessa questioned as she stepped inside the apartment. She had an envelope in her hand and didn't look concerned at all that her boyfriend was completely in your personal space.  

You shook Wade's hold off and turned towards her. "Does Wade give good cuddle?" You caught Logan's eye roll, but you couldn't help the grin on your face. It felt so good to have your family in one space, and knowing that there were even more people on the way, all to celebrate you, gave you a nearly giddy feeling of anticipation. You loved your little fucked up family and you couldn't believe that they were all yours.  

"Oh, he's fantastic," she answered, reaching out to give you the envelope. "You should give him a try some time." She stepped forward and pulled you into a hug. "Happy birthday, by the way," she told you.  

You shot Wade a devious smirk before pulling Vanessa into a tighter embrace. "You know what, I think I'll trade in Logan if you trade in Wade, and then we'll get together." 

Vanessa laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I think I'm onboard with that," she mused, turning a thoughtful look on Wade, pretending to consider the offer. 

Wade strode forward, hastily separating the two of you. "You get your own goddamn girlfriend," he uttered with a scowl, ignoring your amused laugh as he pointed a finger right at you.  

Wade pulled Vanessa away towards the food and Logan approached you. He stood at your back, winding his arms around your waist and tucking his chin over your shoulder. You brought a hand up to rest over Logan's arm, giving it an affectionate squeeze.  

"I like seeing you like this," he whispered, making sure his observation was just for the two of you.  

"Yeah?" You asked, turning a smile over your shoulder at him. "Well, you'll really like this," you told him, showing him Wade and Remy's birthday gift.  

Logan raised an eyebrow, a bemused look on his face. "Just the two of us?" 

You nodded your head, shivering when he brushed his lips against the back of your neck.  

"A little romantic getaway," you mused, bowing your head to give him better access.  

Logan placed a kiss just beneath your ear, following it up with another at your jaw. "Just the two of us," he repeated, sounding pleased.  

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Is that what you're so excited about?" 

"No Wade showing up at the worst fucking times just to talk our ears off about inane bullshit? No responsibility or worries or having to worry about anyone else but us for a couple days? Yeah, I'm fucking excited to get you all to myself," he rumbled low in your ear, his grip on you tightening.  

"Hey, I'm about ready to stab myself in the eyes," Laura called, disrupting the two of you. There was a look of near disgust on her face, and you knew it was only because she wasn't completely fond of seeing her pseudo-parents ready to make out. "Want to get over here and cut this cake, or what?" 

It was then that you noticed the rest of the guests had arrived. Most of them were talking and laughing while Vanessa lit the candles on the cake. Alex Summers had arrived with Piotr, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Yukio. You and Alex had managed to bond over how much Nathaniel had truly managed to fuck over your lives and you were glad that he was another person to add to your little family. Blind Al, Dopinder, and Shatterstar had also shown up, even though you didn't know them as well. Dopinder had handed you a pair of airpods with a wink, prompting Wade to swipe them, muttering something about banning gifts covered in stranger's earwax.  

They were an odd group, but so full of love and understanding, that you felt honored they had let you slip in so seamlessly, as if they had been leaving a place for you all along.  

"We've been summoned," you muttered to Logan, delighting in the soft huff of his laughter against your skin.  

"Then let's not keep them waiting," he said, pressing a hand to the small of your back to urge you towards the group. 

Later, as everyone stood around the table and sang, wishing you a happy birthday, you couldn't understand how you were so damn fortunate. You were surrounded by people who had all shown up for you. Even if most of them started out as Wade's friends, you knew that they were now your friends too. You felt so complete, so involved, that you didn't know how Nathaniel had ever managed to prey on your own insecurities.  

By the time you were going to bed that night, ready to embark on your getaway with Logan in the morning, you felt so wholly loved. Everyone had stayed well into the night, sharing laughter and stories and memories. Once everyone had trailed out and Laura went to bed, Logan had pulled you into his embrace.  

“Let’s go to bed,” he suggested, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “We’ll clean up the mess in the morning.” 

You readily agreed, leading him into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you. 

"I'm exhausted," Logan grumbled once he was lying down, throwing at arm over his eyes to block out the light.  

You reached out to turn off the lamp on your nightstand before crawling into bed. You rolled onto your side, throwing an arm over Logan's waist.  

"You're sure you're going to be ready to go in the morning?" You asked him, running your fingers lightly along his stomach.  

"I'll be ready," he assured you, stilling your hand with his only to lace your fingers together.  

"Good," you breathed, soaking up Logan's warmth. You felt your eyes slip closed, exhaustion creeping up on you. You wanted to tell Logan so many things like you were proud of him and you loved him and you couldn't have done any of this without him. Instead, you pressed a brief kiss to his chest, hoping he would get the message.  

From the way his fingers flexed around yours and the pleased sound he made, you knew he did.  

It was just before you were going to traverse the space between awake and asleep when another thought came to mind. "Logan?" 

"Hm?"  

"Make sure to pack the cowl," you told him, feeling a grin tug at your lips when he let out a surprised laugh. 

You didn't realize how much you truly craved having a couple of days carved out for just you and Logan. You arrived at the B&B feeling lighter than you had since everything that happened with Nathaniel. You were eager to check in and spend the next few days fully emersed in him.  

The B&B was beautiful and somehow Wade made sure that no one else would be there to bother you. The owner had left a key hidden in the mailbox for you and no other guests had rooms booked.  

The B&B was secluded, with trees backing the property and land spread out in every direction, unblemished by other buildings or people. A pond sat off to the side with a bridge that crossed the middle of it, before the grounds spread out into several walkways, encouraging guests to either take a nice stroll through pastures or trek through the woods. The air smelled clean, fresh, and you took in deep lungfuls of it once you stepped out of the car, disbelieving that you were getting the opportunity to have the run of the place with Logan for a weekend.  

There was only one winding road that approached the property, nearly a mile long and offering you something you never really got living in a big city.  

Privacy.  

One space that was only for you and Logan.  

You shuddered to think how much Charles had inadvertently spent on the getaway. 

You assumed you wouldn't even leave the bed the whole time you were there, but you ended up spending most of your time outside.  

You explored the woods with Logan and spent a night enjoying the sight of the night sky, content to simply lie on the ground and gaze at the stars. You watched as Logan took morning jogs around the property, sitting out on the porch in a rocking chair and grinning whenever he passed by.  

You even enjoyed a picnic by the pond with him as well. You made out with Logan on the grass, making a mess when you accidentally rolled over onto the pasta salad. You teased Logan, slowly pulling off your shirt before letting your pants follow, throwing them to the side. Logan tensed up before practically pouncing, sharing laughter and kisses before he grabbed you by the hips and trailed his mouth lower and lower until you were gasping and clutching desperately at his hair, using him as an anchor to keep you tethered as you fell apart.  

After, you pushed him into the pond, just to see him come up out of the water. His shirt was clinging to him, and his hair was a mess, and you had never been more in love with him. He growled, playful yet undeniably sexy, before chasing you back towards the B&B. You felt light, free, and you let Logan take you apart again and again, knowing that when you crashed back into your body with his touch guiding you, you would feel complete.   

You spent your last night at the B&B tangled up with Logan, so desperately enamored with him that you felt like you could hardly breathe with how much you felt for him. He had so wholly consumed your mind and your body and you didn't know what to do when he wasn't touching you, worshiping you with reverent kisses.  

In the morning, you knew that Wade had been right. You did need the time away with Logan, and thinking about going back and playing hero again didn't feel so terrifying anymore. You felt like you were ready to conquer anything as long as you had Logan at your side.  

The car was all packed up and Logan was waiting for you in the car. You locked the front door, before walking down the stairs towards the mailbox that was positioned just beside the porch railing. You left the key along with a thank you note inside before snapping it closed.  

You turned and took a step towards the car before you froze in your tracks.  

There was someone else watching you from just a few feet away.  

"Apocalypse," you breathed, terror climbing dizzyingly fast through you, sending your heart racing.  

Apocalypse merely regarded you with a cool expression, but you felt like you were about to lose it. Logan was already out of the car, but you didn't want him anywhere near Apocalypse. You instinctively raised a forcefield, cutting him off, keeping him safe.  

"I've been awakened years before my time," Apocalypse stated, studying you with interest. "My followers have informed me that Sinister has fallen and the world needs me now more than ever." 

You weren't sure how to process seeing Apocalypse again. You thought of the last time you had seen him, back in your old universe. He had left Scott crumpled on the ground, never to get up again, and Jean had unleased the full force of her Phoenix power, ending Apocalypse with Erik's help. Apocalypse had killed not only your universe by destroying its anchor being, but your old life as well. You knew the power he wielded, and you knew you weren’t nearly strong enough to combat it without a team.  

But now, it was just you against the one villain who had managed to take out the leader of the X-Men. He had killed countless others in your old universe and you would be damned if you let Logan become one of his casualties.  

"Why are you here?" You found yourself asking, knowing that Apocalypse must need something.  

It was when his gaze drifted towards Logan that you felt like your world was about to slide to a halt all over again.  

"I came here for my Horseman," Apocalypse claimed, not bothering to look at you, even as you shifted on your feet, readying yourself for a fight. "My Death," he continued, setting off a sinking feeling in your gut.  

"You can't have him," you snarled, beginning to form another forcefield. You were starting to panic, indecision weighing heavy on you, urging you to get Logan far away from Apocalypse. You let the forcefield begin to form around Apocalypse, intent on either collapsing it and hoping it left him a broken heap on the ground like he had done to Scott, or maybe using spikes to impale him.  

You didn't even get to figure out what you wanted to do, because suddenly you were on the ground. There was a forcefield surrounding you, pressing you into the walkway. You turned your head to the side, struggling to pull in a breath as it kept descending. You could feel it pressing into your ribs, feeling like they were going to crack at any moment.  

You cast a panicked glance over to see that both your forcefields were gone and Apocalypse held his hand out, obviously casting the one that was moments away from crushing you.  

"Stop!" Logan pleaded, rushing towards Apocalypse. Apocalypse easily threw Logan to the ground. Logan cast a fearful look at you before turning his attention back towards Apocalypse. "Let her go and I'll go with you." 

"No!" You cried out, but it came out weak and strained. You could hardly breathe, and you couldn't even move anymore. But you would rather die than let Apocalypse take Logan away from you.  

You felt one of your ribs give way and you didn't even have the breath to scream. You knew it wouldn't be long before the others followed suit, likely puncturing your lungs and killing you. You imagined your sternum cracking before piercing your heart, leaving you just as broken and lifeless as Scott had been.  

Logan was trying to get at Apocalypse, relentlessly attempting to attack him, but when he realized it wouldn't work, he rushed towards your side. He slashed and swiped at the forcefield with his claws, but it stayed intact.  

"Leave her alone!" He roared, panic in his eyes when he realized he couldn't save you. "I'll go with you. I'll be your Death. But you spare her!" He demanded, turning a wild look over at Apocalypse. "Let her live and you can have me." 

"No," you tried to deny, but it only came out as a wordless whimper. 

Logan stared down at you, terrified and heartbroken, and you couldn't believe how unfair life was being to the both of you. Logan was so willing to sacrifice himself just to see you live, but you didn't think you would live without him. You didn't think Logan would live without you either.  

"Very well," Apocalypse allowed before he dropped the forcefield.  

Logan was quick to try to scoop you up in his arms, but you hissed in a pained breath, every movement sending fire through your chest. He settled for letting his hands hover over your side and chest, as if he could simply will you to heal with only the power of his mind.  

"Don't go," you begged, attempting to sit up, even though it caused little black dots to dance across your vision. "Don't leave me," you reached out to grab his hand. "Please stay with me." 

Logan held on tight as Apocalypse reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.  

"I'll find my way back to you," he promised just as he shuddered. He threw his head back, gasping for breath, before he trembled. His head dropped back down and when he met your eyes, there was no recognition.  

His expression was blank, and you had never managed to realize that Logan always looked at you with longing, want, love in his eyes until it was gone.  

"Come with me," Apocalypse ordered, prompting Logan to stand.  

You reached out for him, your fingers only just brushing against his calf before he was gone.  

You stared at the spot where Logan disappeared, hoping he would somehow materialize again. But you remembered how Apocalypse operated. First, he found his Horsemen, and then he wreaked destruction on the world.  

You knew you were in shock, and you knew you needed to get up, but you couldn't move. Injuries aside, you couldn't believe that Logan was being ripped away from you again. You had just gotten back on track and now you had stumbled off again, directionless and getting farther away from where you wanted to be.  

A raindrop broke you out of your stupor and you turned your head to look at the sky. You didn't even notice the approaching storm, but even with the threat of rain, you couldn't bring yourself to get up.  

All you could think about was Logan. Logan, who now didn't remember you and was going on Apocalypse's crusade to rule the world. Logan, who had held you so lovingly in his arms just hours ago, telling you he loved you. Logan, who had promised to return, but with each second and minute that passed, you knew he wasn't coming back.  

By the time it was pouring and your clothes were soaked and you were in so much agony that you were shaking, you finally forced yourself to stand. You stumbled over towards the covered porch, a hand pressed to your side, and climbed the few steps that would take you to the rocking chair you had favored since arriving. You let yourself fall into it, sucking in an unsteady breath. You made yourself slip your phone out of your pocket, the screen cracked from Apocalypse's forcefield, but still working.  

Your fingers were numb and didn't want to cooperate, but you finally managed to scroll through your contacts and stop at 'Papa Deadpool.' Wade had been the one to enter his number in, but you never thought to change the name he had given himself.  

You listened to ring after ring, terrified that he wouldn't pick up. Your mind was spinning and you couldn't land on any sane thought that wasn't Logan or fear or heartbreak. But one thing was so ingrained in your brain by now that you were glad it had stuck despite the panic you were feeling.  

When your back was against the wall and you had nowhere else to go, you could always count on Wade.  

"Y/N, what the fuck are you doing calling me?" Wade asked, his voice playful and such a relief to you. "I thought I gave you explicit instructions to let Logan fuck you stupid, so this better be a butt dial. Although, if it is and you're doing what I think you're doing, then I don't want to know why your phone is anywhere near your ass. Unless it feels amazing, and you think I should try it on Vanessa. You know, I've always wondered, if you and Logan are fucking and you go invisible, then can Logan see--" 

"Wade," you whispered, heartbroken and desolate.  

Wade fell silent on the other line. "Y/N?" He tried, his tone now serious. "Where are you?" 

"At the B&B," you managed, wishing that you could stop shaking. You could feel your teeth begin to clack together, and you weren't even sure if it was because you were now freezing and soaked or the shock of losing Logan that was affecting you. "Logan, he's--" 

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Wade asked, turning away from the phone to shout something at Piotr. He sounded cautious, a bit disbelieving, but you knew that if there was a world where Logan hurt you and you told Wade, he would have your back without a second thought.  

"No," you got out, having to choke back a sob. "He's gone, Wade. He was taken. And now I can hardly breathe, and I can't drive like this, and I just need your help. I have to find him." 

"Piotr," you heard Wade snap. "Put that down and get us wheels up in ten," he commanded, tone brooking no argument. "Because it's the baby bird and she needs wings," he barked, before turning his attention back to you. "Who took Logan? What happened?" 

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Every pull of breath stung, and it felt like your chest was constricting, running out of air.  

"Y/N?" Wade tried again, his tone nearly pleading. "C'mon, baby bird, you're scaring me here. I'm gonna need to hear you talk." 

"Apocalypse," you breathed, feeling another swell of anxiety threaten to drown you. "Apocalypse took Logan. I couldn't stop him. He's too powerful. Last time I fought him, I had a team. I had...," you trailed off, not wanting to admit that it had taken Jean unleashing all her fury on Apocalypse to take him down. Erik had helped, but you knew Jean had dealt the brunt of the damage. She had been blinded with rage and kept at Apocalypse until he was nearly reduced to ashes. Erik had helped contain Apocalypse, but you were sure she would have been the one to deal the killing blow no matter what.  

"Shit," Wade groaned. "Alright, listen, I'm going to get Piotr to steal the X-Jet and we'll be there soon, baby bird. Hold on tight for me, okay?" 

You nodded your head, knowing Wade wouldn't be able to see the reaction, before hanging up.  

You weren't sure how long you sat there, watching the storm unfold before you. You tried to take steady, even breaths, ignoring the pull of pain and the way you were wheezing. You would need someone to help make sure your ribs could heal on their own and you would need to make sure more damage hadn't been done. Your thoughts were on Logan, so you didn't realize you weren't alone until Wade was kneeling in front of you, his hands on your knees. You realized he had been calling your name, trying to get your attention for a while.  

"Ah, fuck, what the hell happened to you?" He stood when he noticed you were finally looking at him and not through him. He reached out and grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet.  

You cried out in pain, clutching your side. "Broken ribs," you gasped, letting yourself lean on Wade.  

"Let's get you out of here," Wade said, nodding at Piotr who was at the car. He was getting into the driver's seat, intent on driving it up the ramp that had descended from the back of the X-Jet. "And once we get you inside, you can tell me what happened." 

You let Wade lead you into the X-Jet. It wasn't until you were in a seat, Wade fussing over you, that you realized there was a stranger sitting in a seat on the opposite side of the plane.  

"Uh, Wade? Who's that?" You asked, pointing at the guy in a red and blue spandex suit with a black spider on the chest.  

"Huh? Oh! I picked up this kid in Queens. Thought we might need reinforcements," he claimed, glancing over at the guy.  

"Hey," the stranger said with a nearly bashful wave of his hand. "I'm Peter?" His voice sounded unsure, and unmistakably young, and you were starting to suspect he was a teenager.  

"Wade," you said, shooting him a disappointed look. "Did you kidnap him?" 

"What? Tony Stark did it in Civil War," Wade argued, gesturing at the kid. "We needed a team, right? So, I scooped up the little rugrat and brought him just in case we needed a little, y'know," he said before holding out his wrist, his middle and ring finger tucked under his thumb as he made a soft whistling noise.  

"Take him home," you demanded, shooting the kid an apologetic look. "He shouldn't be here." 

Wade groaned in frustration before nodding his head. "No, you're right. He's more sequel material, anyways." 

Once Peter was dropped off back in Queens, the kid even yelling out a ‘thank you’ with a wave of his hand, it wasn't long before Piotr was landing the X-Jet at the mansion. Wade helped you inside, and you were surprised to see Alex pacing in the foyer, obviously worried.  

"What's going on?" You wondered, knowing that it couldn't have anything to do with what happened to you. You had gotten closer to Alex, but you didn’t warrant nearly the level of concern he was showing.  

"Two of the X-Men were taken yesterday," Piotr explained, shooting Alex a wary glance.  

"Who?" You couldn't help but wonder, thinking it must have had something to do with Apocalypse. Had he already found his Horsemen? How long until you were all doomed? 

"My brother," Alex snapped, not bothering to stop pacing. "And his girlfriend." 

"Jean?" You had only seen this universe's Cyclops and Jean once and it had been enough for you. They were young, barely in their early twenties, their whole lives still ahead of them. They weren't nearly as powerful as the heroes you had known in your universe, but you hoped that they might have been able to help a little with the Apocalypse situation.  

"We have no idea where they are," Alex growled, visibly distraught. "The Prof has been trying to reach them, but he hasn't been able to yet." 

"Fuck," Wade moaned, glancing around the foyer as if he would find an answer to all of your problems somewhere. "We can't just catch one tiny break. It's like the author wants us to suffer." 

"Logan was just taken from me," you admitted with a wince. It was half from the pain and half from the thought that you would have to explain the situation to Laura. "Where's Laura?" You asked Wade, letting him start to lead you into the sitting room just off the foyer.  

"When I left her, the little munchkin was kicking Blind Al's ass at Mario Kart," Wade assured you, pressing a hand to your lower back, attempting to help you settle on the couch. "Do you guys have a medic or something? She's got some broken ribs that might need to get looked over. Make sure she doesn’t pop a lung or something." 

"I might be able to help with that," a voice volunteered.  

You froze at the voice, recognizing it as one of the last people you wanted to see at the moment.  

"Remy," you greeted, not even bothering to turn to look at him.  

He rounded the couch before sitting on the coffee table, ignoring Piotr's noise of protest. "Hello, chérie," he drawled, smirking at you.  

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You asked, glaring at him. "I thought you would've been long gone by now." 

Remy shrugged his shoulders, studying you. "Now that I'm free, I need a place to stay. Somewhere Sinister's friends won't bother looking for me." 

You scoffed, grimacing when pain shot through your side.  

"Let's get you fixed up, hm?" Remy asked, standing and reaching out to help you off the couch.  

Wade went with you, keeping an eye on Remy, as if he didn't trust him.  

"You know how to fix some broken ribs?" You checked, skeptical that Remy had any sort of medical training.  

"I've been injured enough times to know how to mend a few things, yes," Remy allowed with a grin. “It’s really not as bad as all that.” 

Wade helped you follow Remy, his arm gently wrapped around your waist, careful not to put any pressure on your ribs.  

"Why are you helping me now?" You couldn't help but wonder. Wade was your best friend and you knew that he was fiercely protective of anyone he considered part of his family. But Remy had kidnapped you and left you to become Sinister’s experiment. You couldn’t trust Remy just yet, but at least you could trust Wade to shoot him if Remy so much as looked at you funny.  

Remy shot you a glance over his shoulder, his eyes flaring red, before continuing to lead you downstairs. You knew he was heading for the infirmary, and you wondered just how long Remy had been staying at the X-Mansion. "Because of you, the Gambit works for no one but the Gambit now." 

You heard Wade snort. "Someone's still full of himself," he muttered, keeping his voice low.  

"Because of you," you snarled, wishing you weren't injured and worried about Logan, because you would have certainly been ready to fight Remy. "I can't get Nathaniel out of my fucking head. Because of you, I feel like he's always in there, ready to tear my mind apart all over again. Because of you--," you cut off with a whine of pain, agony flaring up from your side into your chest.  

"Easy now, chérie," Remy warned, stopping at the door to the infirmary. "You'll be of no use to your Logan if you hurt yourself even more." 

You wanted to argue and tell him that it was none of his damn business, but the fight had drained out of you. Now, you were exhausted and starting to ache from keeping yourself as still as you could, not wanting to aggravate your injury.  

So, you submitted to Remy's exam, aware that Wade refused to leave your side. When Remy lifted your shirt to get a better look at your ribs, Wade slapped his hand away, pointing an accusing finger at him.  

"You keep your damn hands to yourself, buddy. She's taken," he snapped, staring Remy down.  

Remy rolled his eyes before holding his hands up in surrender. "Do you want me to help her or not? I'm sure your friend would love that you let his girlfriend suffer." 

"Wade, it's fine," you sighed, inching your shirt up yourself. Your side was already bruised and even though the movement sent a blinding white light shooting across your vision, you were ready to let Remy help. The sooner you had a better range of movement, the sooner you could set about finding out how to get Logan back.   

Later, after Remy felt along your side, confirming that your injury was serious, but not fatal, he grabbed you an ice pack, advising you to press it to your side, and some pain medication. “You’ll need rest,” he warned you, “but seeing as your Logan is missing, I’m sure you’ll ignore that. Try, at least, yeah?” And then he was gone, leaving you to lean into Wade’s side.  

"Some help he was," Wade muttered, kicking his feet lightly before jumping off the exam table. "I could’ve figured that out by checking WebMD. Let's get you upstairs. Maybe we can figure out what the fuck we need to do to get angry bear back." 

When you got back upstairs, total chaos had descended on the mansion. Tensions were already high with two X-Men missing, but now there was yelling and Alex was cursing before something shattered.  

Wade led you into the sitting room from before and you froze just inside the doorway, staring at the five new people who were now there.  

"Cable?" Wade laughed before moving forward, clapping a hand to his shoulder. "Where the hell you been, loca?" 

Cable shrugged off Wade's hand, ignoring him.  

Your attention had been caught by the man lying on the couch. He was cradling a broken arm and littered in cuts and bruises. There was a deep gash along his side that was still bleeding onto the towel that had been placed under him.  

"Erik?" You called, cautiously approaching him.  

You had never seen him look so defeated.  

Charles was now situated near Erik's head, watching him with concern. There was also a boy and a girl, who looked like they were no older than twenty, sitting in armchairs by each other. The girl had red hair and the boy's hair was silver. The boy was angled in his chair, as if trying to shield the girl from the strangers in the room.  

Erik glanced up at you, frowning. "Who the fuck are you?" 

"I'm--," you started, before realizing it was useless. He wasn't your Erik and he wouldn't know you. "Never mind," you waved off the question. "What the hell is going on now?" You directed at Cable, growing weary of the questions piling up without receiving any answers.  

"En Sabah Nur," Cable answered, his voice gruff and irritated. "Or Apocalypse, as others might know him, has risen and taken a Horseman."  

"My daughter," Erik supplied, struggling to sit up, despite Charles' worried glance. "He took Lorna away from me, and when I tried to stop him, his beast did this. I needed to find somewhere safe for my other children," he added, nodding at the girl and boy. "I couldn't risk them either." 

"Apocalypse took Logan from me," you commiserated, "and broke my ribs in the process. He would've killed me, but Logan stopped him. He let Apocalypse take him in exchange for letting me live." You knew without a doubt that Logan had been the one to hurt Erik and you hated that Apocalypse was using him as his puppet.  

You felt your lips twist to the side, an instinctive reaction to the lump you felt forming in your throat. You wanted to cry and scream and throw a fit, because life was well and truly throwing you back towards rock bottom after you had worked so hard on clawing your way free. 

"Why is Apocalypse taking people?" The boy piped up, ignoring the girl's hiss of 'Pietro.' "He forming his own team or what?" 

"Something like that," Cable allowed with a nod of his head. "He finds his Horsemen and uses them to accomplish world domination. Apocalypse, if left unchecked, will rule well into the future. First, he'll take New York, and then he'll take the world. He'll set off an evolutionary pattern in which mutants are the ruling class and humans are merely subordinates. We have to stop that from happening." 

"How do you know so much about him, huh?" Pietro asked, tilting his chin up, defiant. "You two buddies or something?" 

Cable smirked, but he wasn't amused. "Apocalypse kidnapped me when I was a baby and infected me with a virus that was meant to kill me. In the future, he will slaughter millions, humans and mutants, just to ensure that he's holding the reigns. He's obsessed with the ideology of survival of the fittest and he'll do everything in his power to adhere to that, despite the body count he'll leave in his wake. So, no, we're not buddies." 

Pietro simply nodded his head, letting out a soft 'oh,' before going quiet again.  

"We know why Erik is here," you started, nodding at Magneto. "But why are you?"  

"He saved us," the red-haired girl chimed in. "Apocalypse was about to kill us all when Cable showed up and got us out of there." 

"And you knew somehow? That he was back?" You couldn't help but wonder, shooting Cable a questioning glance.  

"Yes," Cable answered. "Apocalypse wasn't set to wake for several more years. I wanted to find out what caused him to rise early."  

"When he took Logan, he mentioned that Sinister's death triggered it, because his followers woke him early. He wanted Logan for his Death, and now he's taken Lorna, so if he's using her as a Horseman, then he only needs two more. And if he's got Scott and Jean, then he might be ready for the next stage of his plan. It won't be long after that until he gets the power he's seeking. That's all he really cares about, right? Power and mutant supremacy. Once he has that, it'll be nearly impossible to stop him." 

Everyone was watching you with interest, including Wade, but it was Cable who spoke.  

"Apocalypse hasn't woken in over a century," Cable started, taking a step towards you. "How do you know so much about him?" 

"We faced him in my original universe," you confessed, resisting the urge to cross your arms over your chest, knowing it would only hurt. "He...," you trailed off, shooting Alex an apologetic look. "He killed Scott in my universe. And then that Jean Grey and Erik Lehnsherr killed Apocalypse." You shared a look with Remy, forgetting for just a moment that he was in the room. He would have known all about you and what happened in your universe with Apocalypse, since he stole your TVA file. "Apocalypse might not have succeeded, but he still destroyed my universe." 

"Fuck," Alex snarled, turning to hit the wall, his shoulders drawn tight with anger. "We have to get my brother back." 

"Well, how the fuck are we supposed to do that?" Wade wondered, gesturing towards Erik. "Jean's kidnapped, Magneto's useless, and Apocalypse, in case you haven't been paying attention, is powerful as fuck." 

You took a moment to consider Erik where he was on the couch. His face was twisted up in pain and Charles leaned over to murmur something to him. You could try to defeat Apocalypse with the team you had now, but you were terrified that it wouldn't be enough. This Erik wasn't in any shape to fight Apocalypse, but you hoped that you knew an Erik who could. If you missed the mark on this, then Logan might be lost to you forever.  

You couldn't let that happen.  

You turned to face Cable, knowing that you had already made up your mind. "I need a favor," you told him, knowing that if he refused, you would have nothing else. "I need you to contact someone from my universe. Magik," you added when Cable didn't reply, simply staring at you with an unnerving intensity. "Tell her that Y/N needs her. And to bring Erik, <i>my</i> Erik, with her. He stopped Apocalypse once, he can do it again." 

"And Jean?" Cable suggested, raising an eyebrow at you in question. “It sounds like she also had a hand in destroying Apocalypse.” 

"Leave her homewrecking ass at home," Wade scoffed, shaking his head. "We'll do this without her, right?" Wade asked, bumping his shoulder companionably into yours.  

You did your best to keep the wince off your face, both from Wade's words and the pain that shot through your side.  

"Tell Magik to bring anyone willing to help," you conceded, knowing there was no way in hell Jean would care enough to get herself mixed up with Apocalypse a second time. You never wanted to see her again and you were sure the feeling was mutual.  

With any luck, it would just be Illyana and Erik, and you hoped that was all you needed. Illyana was incredibly powerful in her own right, and you knew that if you got the chance, you would ask her to get Logan away from Apocalypse, since she could simply grab him and teleport him away. Multiversal travel, while potentially dangerous, might just be the answer you needed to save Logan.  

Cable finally dipped his head in a nod. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said before stepping back, giving himself enough space to consider the device strapped to his wrist. "Don't do anything stupid until I get back," he shot at Wade, ignoring Wade's indignant snort, before he disappeared.  

"Well, this just got anticlimactic," Wade muttered, nudging you towards the only free armchair. You shot him a grateful look as you dropped down into it, careful not to bend your torso too much.  

Wade left you with a pat on the shoulder, moving over towards Piotr. Erik and Charles were locked in a heated discussion and Remy seemed content to stand with his back to the wall, observing everyone as if he thought someone might attack at any moment. Alex had already stormed out of the room, but you knew he would come back. He wasn’t going to pass up any opportunity that might save his brother.  

"You mentioned Sinister," Erik's daughter pointed out, pulling you from your thoughts.  

You turned to look at her, seeing that she was already watching you with interest. "I did," you confirmed, wondering why she had latched onto that.  

"We knew him," she admitted, with a wry twist of her lips. "He experimented on my brother and me." She brought her hands up, palms facing each other, before slowly pulling them apart, a red glowing ball of energy appearing between them. She let it dance between her fingers for a moment before she waved it away. "Our father found us in a lab and took us away." 

"The Maximoff twins," you remembered, thinking of Nathaniel listing his greatest experiments when he had you strapped to a lab table.  

"Wanda," she introduced, gifting you a small smile. "I take it you were acquainted with him as well?" 

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. "You could say that. He was a fucking psycho." 

"And he's dead? Truly?" Wanda insisted, leaning over in her chair to consider you.  

"Killed him myself," you assured her, meeting her relieved grin with one of your own.  

"Good," Pietro piped up, sporting a pleased expression. "That fucker was sadistic." 

Your laugh was cut off by Cable reappearing in the room.  

You stood, disregarding the twinge of pain, as you faced him. "Well? Did you find her?" 

"He found me," a voice called from across the room. You turned to see Illyana standing there, her portal still open behind her. "And I brought company." 

Erik stepped through the portal next. His expression was grave, and you knew he had been clued in on Apocalypse's emergence in this universe. He spared a brief glance for Charles and the other Erik, who were both watching him in fascination and wariness respectively, before he approached you. He drew you into a hug, gentling his touch when you went stiff in his arms.  

"So, Apocalypse is back and your brute has been marked for Death," he murmured, leaning back to get a better look at you. "And you're injured. I don't know why I ever let you come back here." 

"Because I'm happier here," you reminded him, "most of the time. I just need to get Logan back," you added, knowing that you weren't going to be able to stop until you were dead, or Logan was by your side again.  

Erik frowned at that, and he grew tense. "Listen, I need to warn you--" 

Erik's words were cut off when the portal rippled and a woman walked into the room. She was wearing a yellow and green suit with a brown leather jacket. Her hands were covered with yellow gloves and there was a black 'X' emblazoned on the chest of her suit. But the most distinctive part of her appearance was the white strands of hair that framed her face, a shocking contrast from her natural brown hair color.  

"Rogue?" You wondered, shooting Erik a questioning look. "You had to warn me about Rogue? We weren't exactly friends, but it's not like I hated her either. She'll be a good addition to the team," you mused, already thinking of ways she might be useful in the upcoming fight with Apocalypse. 

"No, not Rogue," Erik allowed with a wince and you suddenly knew why he had tried to alert you about what was about to happen. "Cable said you were looking for volunteers and I don't know why, but they both were adamant about joining us." 

You wished Magik had closed the portal after Rogue, but you knew she was keeping it open for a reason. You had been stupid, naive, to think that it would be so easy. You had never once been fully granted a wish without multiple strings attached and as the air around the portal rippled, signaling another newcomer, you knew your plan was about to come crashing down around you.  

You felt your breath leave you all in a rush when Jean stepped through the portal. She was no longer pregnant, and she had her shoulders squared, as if ready for a fight. You hoped, prayed, that the portal would seal itself, but it allowed one more person through.  

The other Logan stepped into the room, coming to a halt at Jean's side. Magik closed the portal, sealing them off from their universe and effectively trapping them in yours. You felt yourself freeze, as if trying to evade a predator's sight, but both of their gazes unerringly found you. Jean looked nearly disinterested, but the other Logan's eyes flashed with something you didn't want to name.  

"Damn," Wade sighed before he whistled, shooting you a disbelieving look over his shoulder. "Now that's a cliffhanger."  Author's Note: So, there's a very real chance that this fic is going to end after this current arc. I'm not sure if that means the sixth one will be the last or if there will be an epilogue, but I'm sure this will have a sequel eventually, so I might nix the epilogue idea since it would be pretty final for this 'verse. That being said, I am working on mini fics based on the idea that the-gentle-spirit had with each Logan having their own Y/N. I'm hoping to post the first one (Old Man Logan) for my actual birthday later this month. I also have a Wade/Reader/Logan fic planned and I'm excited about that one. If you would like to be tagged in the sixth (most likely final chapter), let me know! If you want to be tagged in all my future Logan fics, let me know! I've got ideas, y'all, so this won't be the last time y'all see me posting about Logan. I think I just need a break from this 'verse since reader engagement has waned a lot since the first couple chapters. That being said, thank you to everyone who has shown this love and left me all types of amazing support and feedback. Y'all have really kept me going. Taglist: @wonderfrost @mrsyixingunicorn10 @blackbleedingrose @arrozyfrijoles23 @elianamarie-blog

@sarahskywalker-amidala @whiskytoast @shizzybarnaclee @zbeez-outlet @halepack2011

@facelessfionna @i-left-my-cat-on-the-stove @whyam1heree @serendippindots @janilovecookies

@4ria790 @lollipopsandstuff @jtthompson @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth @the-gentle-spirit

@hazel2928 @gothicknightz @mkay33 @bibblesdiscordkitten @albiofay

@songwizard // @kailera // @zeeader // @amandarobertsboyce // @shilohh28

@astudyoftimeywimeystuff // @whatthefawk-isthis // @loonalockley // @newromantics98 // @cherrypieyourface

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@i-wear-wet-socks313 // @itsspiderluv // @slightlymediocree // (I just checked my tag list form, sorry y'all)

[yandere-sins]

alright, hit us with sum yandere!ghost please! can't wait to see what you'll do with him, i always pictured him as a scary possessive when it comes to the person he loves considering his shit past so i look forward to see what you'll do

I think you are on the right path, my friend! Would have put him into the possessive category as well :D I made some random HCs, thank you for requesting, enjoy!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ Ghost needs physical touch. It's not just a huge want or desire, it's how he assures himself that everything is okay and nothing is wrong. If he can't at least have the simplest form of touch by pushing his chest in your back as if he was docking onto you, he will get agitated and irritable, putting missions at risk as he loses the composure he's known for. He needs to have you close to keep his thoughts focused and his mind at ease. For Ghost, there's comfort in protecting you. Now that he finally has someone to protect, he goes to all the lengths to do so. If he has to leave you, he wants to have you near for as long as possible before he locks you away. It leads to a few interesting times where you are asked to stop being selfish and just appease him for the sake of putting him in a better mood. 

♡ The reason he needs to feel you so much is to reassure himself you're alive and well. He puts himself between you and the door at night to shield you in case there's an intruder, and he keeps you no farther than an arm's length from him for the very same reason. If you hate it, that's a problem, but maybe you can learn to live with it when you realize how tame he becomes if you allow him the pleasure. Let him show you how much he adores you, gently, calmly for once, since the moment you stop, he'll go back to being the hard, unyielding bastard you know. 

♡ Because he loves you in his lap or lying on top of him until you fall asleep. He loves pressing his fingers into your body as if you were a stress-relieve toy, though when you squirm, he'll use his nails to scrape at you as a warning, nipping away until you force yourself to calm down. Be good and face him if you want Ghost to spoil you with his attention. He's very willing to listen and give you what you ask for while you straddle his thighs, let him nuzzle his face against yours through the mask, and put on your sweetest voice to talk to him. He'll be pudding in your hands if you cup his face, even brush your fingertips under his mask, skimming them over his skin until you hear him practically purr, his chest rumbling against yours in delight. It's the only way you can convince him to comply with your every wish (unless they are unreasonable, like leaving you alone). You have to take your chances when you can and need him to hear you out and listen to what you need to tell him. After all, his time and attention are limited by his own need for you.

♡ He lets very few people near you, and only if he must, but sometimes, on big missions, it's necessary. You have to enjoy the small conversations you're allowed to have, even though he reminds you constantly that he's right there with you. His fingers ghosting over your wrists or the back of your neck, ready to grab you at all times, him taking off his gloves to comb through your hair or tugging your shirt back whenever you get a bit too excited in conversation and inch away from him. You'll probably never understand why no one tries to help you even though this isn't normal, but unfortunately, the people you are allowed to talk to have bonds with Ghost that are more important to them than whatever he's doing with you.

♡ However, if not for an emergency, if anyone reaches out towards you with questionable intentions, Ghost will snatch their hand, squeezing so hard they can feel their bones crumble in his grip while Simon reminds them to never fucking touch you. It doesn't matter who it is, friend or foe, he will go ballistic if they are after you. You are the one thing he sees red for, and no one wants to be on his bad side, not even you. Any outside interactions are ruined by such an outburst, but you wouldn't dare to argue with Simon about his behavior, knowing exactly how damaging his hands can be. You've been through it all in your rebellious stage and had the fractures to prove it. If he learns that you'd defend anyone else but yourself or Ghost, it won't end well for you and the person you're trying to help. It's better to appease him and stay on his good side, even for you. 

♡ He shares all his meals with you. You don't get your own plate. You get his plate. His fork, his spoon, but not his knife. Not because you would hurt yourself with it, no. He's just pretty sure that if you were to stab him, he'd be too excited to get his wounds treated and doesn't want an infection. So, instead, he cuts everything into mouth-sized portions for you. Kind, isn't he? The only good thing is that aside from force-feeding you if you refuse to eat at all, you can eat anything on his plate at the pace you want. He won't force you to have things you dislike (though usually, his meals are somewhat bland). Simon will, however, bump his shoulder into yours if you don't share with him, growing more and more demanding the longer you ignore him. He eats your leftovers, but he'd much rather have you feed him, moving his mask out of the way so you can put it in his mouth while he keeps your wrist steady because he knows you like to tease him (read as "stab him with the fork"). 

♡ Usually, Simon doesn't punish you. He puts you in your place and reminds you that running, hiding, or fooling him won't work. If you assure him you understand, he won't pursue any harmful punishments. He might force you to kiss him or get on his lap and be quiet now, but aside from his possessive grip on you, bad behavior won't have many repercussions. However, if you really need to be punished, hopefully, you are prepared to barely survive. He knows what is punishment and what is torture, but if you anger him too much, he won't see the fine line anymore, and he has the tools to break you if he must. Neither you nor he will be happy because of it, but it does make you think twice next time if you want to push him too far. At least he knows how to patch you up afterward, but it will still hurt so much, making you wish you were dead.

♡ You're no longer [your name]. You are an endearing, sickeningly sweet, and occasionally demeaning array of nicknames. You'll find Simon to be quite creative despite him also using the more socially accepted nicknames for you like Darling, Babe, Love, Hon, and Dear. Depending on his mood, he might also slide into teasingly inappropriate ones like Slut, Whore, Fun time person, and "Someone forgot their place again, hm?" If you displease him, he becomes less pleasant, every one of his names having the sharpness of a warning edged into them, a threatening rumble in his chest as he calls you out for misbehaving. Simon will, however, stare at you for a long time if you call him anything else but his name or Ghost. He just... stares, never responds. It tickles something in him, but he can't quite place it. Refrain from feeding into any complex he might have, though. Call him God (accidentally, jokingly, or fucked well) once, and you'll never hear the end of it for the rest of your life. He's your God, alright. Ghost will soak in that knowledge forever.

♡ His array of British and military nicknames has another surprise, mainly when he calls you some random weapon's name. When you ask him why he'd call you that, Simon explains how he shot someone straight in the head with the named gun. It reminded him of you. (Apparently, you have the same effect on him. You're killing him. Blow his mind. Looking at you is sending him to heaven. You get the drill, puns intended.) He'll never tire of calling you a bomb, and he even makes flirtatious jokes at times which are just too macabre to not chuckle awkwardly about them, especially when he tells them to you matter-of-factly. But hey, hearing you laugh positively makes his day and puts him in a great mood. He calls you out for collecting brownie points with him on purpose before he picks you up to get a reward for making you laugh, locking doors behind him so he can thoroughly enjoy you and create more lovely sounds from both your mouths.

[james-potter-official]

Baby, won’t you look my way?

Hello! My name is James Fleamont Potter and you’re listening to the marauders.

I sing and play guitar, I am 23, and I use he/him pronouns! I am audhd, and uh, that’s my intro! 💖💛💙 I also can’t spell :p

Likes : Spider-Man, my friends, my fans, my foes, my moms cooking, my mom, my dad, speaking Spanish, dancing, fidget toys, Spider-Man

Dislikes: bullies, mean people, haters, etc etc

Friends!!

@the-starlight-within - Sirius:D

@fame-is-my-game - Dorcas :p

@delicatejustice - themis >.<

@antheablossoms - D’s friend so my friend plz

@theoneandonlyrita - Rita ^.^

Other:

@you-with-the-watercolor-eyes - Regulus :3

@z3ri4h-gr3y - you scare me /pos

@vviolentromance - the silliest man the goofiest goober to ever live yknow him, you probably like him itssss Barty