#void talks about nothin

[voidwalker007]

Meat is meat, is meat is meat, ykno?

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[lesbian-in-leather]

So not to sound like absolutely insufferably out of my tree, but y'know all those joke posts like 'doing X would fix me'?? Well turns out they might not be that far off my dude because making out with a pretty girl literally fixed me this is wild as shit

Because like. Look, I'd never gotten an official diagnosis, but over the last few years (basically since lockdown) I have been exhibiting a lot of the symptoms of ocd, and they've only been getting worse. They were kinda present before that, but during quarantine everything kinda exploded in my brain, and it got to a very severe level where I was lowkey hurting myself because of how my brain was working (washing my hands so frequently the skin was cracking and peeling, repeatedly scratching at my skin if it felt unclean and I was unable to wash it, etc)

And then I made out with the girl I like

And now I'm like. Fine

Like???? I don't know how else to explain it, but over the last few days it's just,,, not been bothering me? I'm still kinda lowkey Aware of the things that used to make me feel intensely Unclean, and yet, they just. Straight up do not bother me anymore. I'm very much hoping this keeps up, and I'm taking it slow for now, but touch-wood it seems to have gone back to pre-covid times

Disclaimer: I've done some research and it seems that worsening ocd symptoms can be linked to increase stress and feelings of being out of control, which also makes sense in the way that the night I was making out with a girl was ALSO perhaps the first time in my adult life that I have truly felt in control of my own life, and like an actual adult with no one treating me like a child or belittling me or a myriad of other issues that come with My Family. but it's also infinitely funnier to say it was the making out in particular

So yeah. Making out with a pretty girl fixed me lmao. Pass it on

[andyridgeley]

so NO ONE wants to talk about jason sudeikis on hot ones and saying he loves bob odenkirk IM THE ONLY ONE.

[imagine-you]

won't somebody come take me home? [Logan/Reader]

Summary: You've been abandoned to the Void after experiencing heartbreak in your universe. Instead of becoming food for Alioth or one of Cassandra's underlings, you find a new family with the resistance seeking to bring her down. When Johnny doesn't come back to the hideout, you keep watch in the hopes of seeing his return. Instead, you find a Deadpool variant fighting someone who looks achingly familiar. Someone who reminds you of your old life and the person who broke your heart. When you finally come face to face with a Logan after being pruned from your universe, you're not expecting the longing you're met with or the fact that in his universe, you were his wife. Word Count: 7.7k Author's Note: I've wanted to write for X-Men for so long and then I saw Deadpool and Wolverine and fell in love with Logan all over again. If you like this, please let me know! I'm so nervous about writing for a new fandom. And if you want to see more X-Men stuff from me, please let me know that as well! Reader's song for this is definitely I'm With You by Avril Lavigne, but I kind of imagine Logan's ends up being Hanging By a Moment by Lifehouse.

closer to where I started // all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

Read on AO3

Everyone in the Void had a tragic backstory that was befitting a hero or villain or anything in between. You were the ones who were lost, abandoned, or forgotten by your worlds and the people you cared about more than anyone else.

You didn't remember much about how you got to the Void, but you had a pretty good understanding of why you were dropped into the barren wasteland for the multiverse's landfill.

Like most people in the Void, you were here because of heartbreak. The one person you had loved with your entire being had loved someone else. You had given him your all, but he only gave you a piece of himself. And when he ripped that piece of himself away, leaving you aching and broken, you were swept out like unwanted trash and right into the Void.

"What's got you so down today, ma chérie?" Remy dropped down into the chair at your side.

You huffed out a laugh that was nowhere near amused. "Besides the fact that we're all stuck here and trying to avoid Cassandra and her wandering fingers?" You brought your hand up and wriggled them in Remy's face, reluctantly letting out a laugh when he snapped his teeth at them.

"Ah, there's that smile," he mused, bumping his shoulder into yours. "You thinkin' 'bout your old life?"

You rolled your eyes, inanely feeling your throat tighten as you fought the urge to cry. You kept your gaze on the bottle of whiskey on the table. Remy reached for it, but he met resistance and turned a glare on you.

You shrugged your shoulders before dropping the forcefield. "I had a dream about him last night," you admitted with a scowl. "About what happened and how no one on my team had my back. How they all thought it was inevitable." You snorted before you quickly grabbed the bottle and took a swig, relishing the burn that traveled down your throat and sent warmth pulsing through your chest. You handed it over to Remy, ignoring his obvious annoyance.

"Listen, you're a lot better off now than you were with those fuckers," he consoled as he finally wrapped his hand around the bottle. "But don't go gettin' between me and my drink, now," he warned, his eyes briefly flashing red before fading away. "I'm not like those assholes who abandoned you. You've got nothin' to hate me for."

"You're real shit at pep talks, you know that?" Johnny cut in, knocking into Remy as he walked by. "Leave Y/N alone. She doesn't want to put up with your bullshit right now."

"And you suppose she wants to put up with yours? All you've got is bullshit," Remy taunted, idly twirling a card between his fingers. It was half a threat, but Johnny would only fight fire with fire and Remy knew it. Elektra had forbidden both of them from using their powers in the hideout, since they had almost burned it down last time.

"Will you both just stop?" You groaned, letting your head hit the table. Someone reached out to pat you on the shoulder, but you didn't bother to look and see who did it. "I love and respect you both dearly, but if you leave another scorch mark in here, then we'll all be in trouble."

Remy obediently stowed the card back up his sleeve while Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," he sighed before making for the door. “See you later.”

"Where are you going?" You called, watching him retreat.

"I'll be around," Johnny answered, shooting you a smirk over his shoulder. "I always come back, don't I?"

You didn't get a chance to respond before he was gone. You always worried about Johnny when he went on his little trips around the Void. He swore he would be careful not to run into any of Cassandra's goons, but you knew all of your days were limited. Whether it was Alioth or Cassandra or one of the many rogue Deadpools wandering around, it was only a matter of time before trouble found you.

Remy stood up and placed the half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of you. "Just this once," he allowed with a wink. "You appreciate that, though, you hear?"

"Thanks," you muttered before reaching for the bottle.

You spent the rest of the day trying to block out the dream while you trained with Laura.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn't realize you had company.

"Damn, what's got you so riled up?"

You turned to look at Eric, surprised to see him standing there. You then realized your knuckles had split open and you had trashed the makeshift punching bag you had made out of an old blanket and some sand.

"Nothing," you deflected, half-tempted to go invisible just so no one could see you. Even though he was wearing sunglasses, you knew you had his full attention and you didn't want another lecture on leaving your past behind.

No one on your team was good at that, but you were arguably the worst at letting your pain go.

You always hated when you dreamt about Logan. His last words to you echoing in your mind over and over. You hadn't been enough for him, but Jean? Jean was everything he wanted. You supposed your powers paled in comparison and you would never measure up when all you could do was conjure forcefields and become invisible. Logan had been in love with her from the first moment he laid eyes on her, but you had never seen that look on his face when he looked at you.

It was a pity that you had given Logan everything only to be cast aside for the one who truly held his heart.

If Johnny were there, he would have told Blade to mind his own business, but he still hadn't come back.

"Again," Laura prompted, drawing your attention towards the punching bag. It was half-demolished, but you figured you still had some fight in you.

You noticed her shake her head at Eric as you turned away and focused all your hurt into your fists, watching the bag fall apart.

Johnny hadn't returned by the next morning and you were starting to worry.

You considered everyone your family, but you had a special bond with Johnny. He had been the first person to welcome you to the resistance and you, specifically your powers, had reminded him of his sister. He opened up to you about how much he missed his team, his family, and you told him about the heartbreak you had endured in your universe.

"I'll tell you what, if I ever get my hands on your Logan, I'll light the fucker on fire."

You felt a laugh bubble out of you. It was the first time you had laughed in ages and it felt so good to know you could still find joy in things. "He'd just regenerate."

"Not when I'm done with him," Johnny promised. "I'll cook him 'til he's just a heap of ash and then you'll dance on his remains."

You shook your head, but let Johnny carry on with his elaborate plan for revenge on your behalf. Johnny would never meet your Logan and you knew you would never actually see him again. Everyone in the Void was forgotten and there was no escape.

"You worried about Johnny?" Elektra wondered, coming to stand at your side.

You were keeping an eye on the horizon, searching for any sign that Johnny was coming home.

"It's not like him to be gone this long without some kind of message he's okay.

"He's gotten this far, hasn't he?" Elektra pointed out, shooting you a reassuring look. "He'll be fine."

You nodded your head, but didn't budge from your spot.

"You plan on staying out here all night?" Elektra asked.

"If I have to," you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. "What if he's in trouble?"

"Then you won't be any help to him sleep-deprived," she answered.

"I've had worse," you deflected with a forced grin.

Elektra sighed, but didn't try to dissuade you again.

You had a pair of binoculars Laura had scavenged and you were doing your best to keep an eye on your surroundings. You were surveying a forest when something caught your attention. You focused on the sight, wondering for a moment if Elektra had been right and sleep deprivation was messing with your mind.

You pulled the binoculars away and blinked a few times before looking through them again.

"Ah fuck," you groaned when you realized that what you were seeing was real.

"What's wrong?" Laura asked, startling you.

"Shit," you hissed, nearly dropping the binoculars. You handed them over and pointed towards what previously held your attention. "You see that?"

"Is that--?" Laura cut herself off before shooting you a disbelieving look. "It's him."

"With a Deadpool," you confirmed with a nod of your head.

"We should get them before someone else does," Laura suggested, handing the binoculars back to you.

You hesitated, knowing she was right, but hating the idea of seeing him again.

"I can go alone," Laura offered. You knew she also loved her Logan, but he had been like a father to her up until his final moments. Your Logan had managed to bring you nothing but pain and insecurity.

"No," you told her with a firm shake of your head. Johnny had gone off alone and now it had been almost two days since the last time you saw him. In the Void, that was as good as a death sentence. "I'll go with you."

You let the others know you were off to rescue two new recruits to the resistance and helpfully left out the fact that one of those people was a Logan variant.

Laura led the way and you followed in her tracks. You kept yourself invisible, knowing that if anyone came after Laura, then you could use your presence as a surprise. You had also learned to use your forcefields as a weapon as much as a defense and you were ready if anyone tried to attack.

Once you got to the station wagon, you let yourself become visible again. You slowly approached the car while Laura investigated the clearing for any signs that you might have been followed. You could see the Deadpool variant wrapped up in the seatbelts, but you couldn't help but let your focus stray to Logan.

He was different from your Logan, but seeing his face hurt all the same. Your Logan had taken everything from you and given nothing back except for pain. This Logan was a stranger, but he still brought up familiar feelings. Love and confusion and agony.

"Is he yours?" Laura wondered, finally joining you in your study of Logan.

"No," you assured her. "Mine would've never been caught dead in the yellow suit," you admitted with just the tiniest hint of relief. You never wanted to see your Logan again, but you couldn't help but admit to yourself that didn't mean you never wanted to see any other Logan. You were scared, terrified of the pain he might cause you, but you hadn't been able to let go of the love you held for him. You were sure, even in that moment, that you would love Logan in every universe. It was too bad he wouldn't love you just the same.

Although, you supposed you didn't really have a Logan. You never did, since the one from your universe was never yours in the first place.

Doubt and wariness began to creep in and you started to herd Laura towards the Honda you were half-sure belonged to the Nicepool variant. "You drive," you prompted, opening the passenger door seat and carefully sitting among the wreckage and blood that was practically painted on every surface of the car.

Laura started the car and you glanced over your shoulder, waiting for the two backseat occupants to stir, but they were both still knocked out.

"They really did a number on each other," you muttered, your gaze already back on Logan.

Laura was silent for long enough that you thought she was ignoring you. "It's not your Logan," she reminded you after a couple of minutes. You realized you were still watching him and finally forced yourself to turn around in your seat.

"It's not," you confirmed, studying your hands in your lap. You let them shift in and out of visibility, a nervous habit you had when you were torn between fight and flight.

"Then he's not the one who hurt you," she continued, keeping her focus on the path in front of you.

"He's not the one who saved you," you shot back. The way she looked at this Logan like she was seeing her savior miraculously alive all over again had felt like a punch in the gut. You were both mourning and the source of it had just dropped right back into your lives. "He might be worse," you pointed out.

"He might be better," she argued with a quick glance at you. "He might not even know us."

"Yeah," you sighed, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, silently apologizing for being so defensive. "Eric's right," you conceded with a grimace. "I need to let it go."

"Hard to let something like that go," she allowed with a soft smile at you. She was the only one who knew the full story. Johnny knew most of it and the others knew enough, but Laura had loved her own Logan like family. She knew what it was like to lose him, albeit in a very different way.

When you got back to the hideout, Laura helped free Deadpool while you formed a forcefield around Logan and used it to lift him out of the car. Charles had claimed it was a form of telekinesis, but you always told him you were just controlling the forcefield. Whatever was inside it just happened to move with it. If you dropped the forcefield, then whatever was inside it would fall.

Laura dragged Deadpool inside while you let Logan hover through the air and into the hideout. Laura left Deadpool on the floor, but you were careful with Logan and let him hover just over the bed you used before letting him go.

Laura shot you a bemused look before going to let the others know you had company.

You weren't really sure what to do with yourself, so you settled for pacing from one end of the room to the other. You were halfway across the room when you heard a rustling noise behind you. You half-hoped it was Deadpool waking up, but when you turned around, it was to see Logan squinting up at the ceiling.

You froze, not daring to move a muscle. Logan blinked a few times before he began to sit up. He stopped and then tilted his head up, sniffing the air. You had always found the way he used his enhanced sense of smell adorable, even if no one else did. He suddenly turned and buried his face in your pillow, pulling in deep breaths. He reached up to clutch the pillow in his hand as he sat up, keeping it pressed to his face.

You weren't even really sure what was going on, so by the time he finally lowered the pillow and met your gaze, you were staring at him completely dumbstruck.

Several emotions warred for control on Logan's face when he saw you. Grief, despair, heartbreak, hope, disbelief, and relief. Finally, he seemed to pull them all together into a neutral expression.

"Y/N," he started, taking a step towards you.

You instinctively took a step back. You knew that this Logan wasn't the one who hurt you, but it was hard to let all of that go when someone who looked exactly like your Logan was staring right at you.

"You're alive," he tried again, taking another step, as if he was drawn to you.

"I am," you answered, your hands clenched into fists at your side. You couldn't handle the way Logan was looking at you. He looked at you like you were his whole world. You would have killed to get your Logan to look at you like that. But having it now, from a different Logan, felt equal parts thrilling and unsettling. "Who am I to you?" You asked, needing to know what you were dealing with now. You had assumed maybe you were part of Logan's team in his universe, but he was hopelessly in love with Jean and didn't give a fuck about you. The way he was looking at you told an entirely different story.

"You're--," he started before he looked down at his left hand. You could see a wedding band around his ring finger. "You're my wife," he finally admitted as he balled his hand into a fist. "You were, at least," he added with a grimace. "And me? What am I to you in your universe?"

You didn't know whether to tell the truth or lie. But Logan had always known you way too well and any story you spun would unravel as you told it. "I loved you," you finally confessed. "But you left me for someone else," you continued, noting the way Logan's expression tightened, rage flashing in his eyes.

"Who?" He growled, advancing on you.

It was your biggest shame and worst heartbreak, so you faltered over the name for a moment. But you weren't even in the same universe as her or him anymore and it was time for you to stop running from your pain.

"Jean. He left me for Jean, alright? It didn't matter that I loved him and it didn't matter that we were together. Scott died and Jean needed someone and apparently that couldn't be anyone but him. He told me it was nothing, but I knew. He never looked at me the way you just did. He looked at her like she was the only person he cared about and when he left me for her, I ended up here," you hissed, finally walking towards Logan. "And I bet neither of them ever gave a fuck that I just up and disappeared. So, seeing you now has brought up all the shit he put me through," you snarled, reaching out to push at his shoulder.

"Y/N, I--," he started, reaching out for you. His expression was nearly reverent as he let his hand fall on your shoulder.

"Don't," you said, pushing away from him. "I'm not your wife," you snapped, hating the way his expression closed off and was replaced with that look he got when he was trying not to feel anything at all.

"And I'm not him," he shot back. His gaze drifted to the side and he reached out to grab a bottle of Remy's whiskey. He popped the top off the bottle and took a long swig.

You heard someone groan before you looked over at Deadpool. He brought a hand up to his head and Logan turned to watch him. He took another drink, keeping the bottle close to his chest, as he approached Wade.

"Ugh, what's with the angry bear staring me down?" Wade wondered, finally sitting up. "Also, where the hell are we? Are we about to be skinned and used as decoration for some post-apocalyptic lair?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Logan growled, taking another drink.

You knew it took a lot to get Logan drunk, but at the rate he was going, he would end up there by nightfall.

Deadpool finally scanned the room and noticed you. He got to his feet and pointed a finger at you. "Oh, holy shit. You're Y/N! You're a big part of this guy's tragic backstory, I can tell ya that, so what are you doing here?" Wade reached out to clap a hand to Logan's shoulder and got brushed off.

"That's enough!" Elektra called before walking into the room.

Wade looked shocked to see Elektra, but his eyes went wide at the sight of Blade striding into the room. Gambit then made his entrance before Laura took up the rear of the group.

Introductions went around, before Wade started in on Gambit and his accent. You could tell Remy was reluctantly amused, but he was distracted by something else.

Remy dismissed Wade and focused in on Logan. He shot you a quick, concerned look before he began flipping a card as he studied Logan. "Well, we've never had a Wolverine up in here before. Not sure we've ever wanted one here before," he said with another look at you. "I can tell you now it's just a common courtesy to at least ask before you go drinking up all my liquor."

"It's a good thing I don't give a fuck," Logan responded before taking another drink.

Remy's eyes burned red as he muttered an insult under his breath. He let the card in his hand go, letting it slice the bottle of liquor in half. Glass and whiskey rained down on Logan's boots, but he looked unbothered. He reached out to grab another bottle before pulling the top off and taking a drink.

"Oh, you sure are an asshole, aren't you? I'm starting to see why you hate this one," Remy continued, aiming the last sentence at you.

"You hate him?" Wade asked, whipping his head back and forth, from you to Logan and back again. Wade gasped and turned to point an accusing finger at Logan. "You and you," he pointed to you, "aren't a you in your universe?" He pressed his hands together, letting his fingers interlock. "What'd he do? Was he too busy practicing his brooding in the mirror? He try to slip you a little adamantium surprise in the bedroom? Did he--"

"Shut up," Logan snapped, tightening his grip on the bottle in his hand.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you admonished Wade.

Wade held his hands up in surrender, but he reached out to put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, my friend," he consoled before he approached you. He held his arms out as he walked towards you. "Come here, baby bird, and tell Papa Deadpool all about it," he said as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Get your hands off her," Logan growled, unsheathing his claws.

You brought a forcefield up between you and Wade. It was big enough to encompass his chest and abdomen and you used it to forcefully push him back. You slammed him into the wall, easing up, just to slam him into it again.

"Alright, alright," he coughed out, holding his hands up in surrender. "Don't piss off the Invisible Woman, got it," he conceded as you let your forcefield drop.

You rolled your eyes before crossing your arms over your chest. "That's not what they call me." The reminder of Johnny's sister brought up the worry you had for him. "Where the hell did you two come from?"

Wade did most of the talking and explained about the TVA, Cassandra, and their near-miss with Alioth.

"No one's ever made it out of Cassandra's clutches before," Elektra observed with something verging on respect in her tone.

"No one alive," Eric interjected with an unimpressed glare at Deadpool.

"Well, she is quite terrifying and a little grabby," Wade allowed with a nod of his head.

"One of ours has been missing for two days," you told Wade, carefully not looking at Logan. Logan had been watching you the whole time and you knew he was only mourning a ghost, but you hated how much you liked finally having Logan's undivided attention. "His name is Johnny. Did you see him?"

"The little flameball might've made an appearance, sure, but he's not with us," Wade explained with a flippant wave of his hand.

"Yeah, because you fucking got him killed with your big mouth," Logan snapped at Wade.

"Johnny's dead?" You asked, not wanting to believe it. You loved the others like family, but Johnny had practically been a brother to you. Sure, he let his mouth get him in trouble half the time, but he always managed to get himself out of it. "What the hell happened?"

"Cassandra decided she liked his insides on the outside," Wade answered, "because she's a megalomaniacal, psychotic asshole. Johnny’s words, not mine."

"Well, we've all been knowin' that," Remy said, idly shuffling a deck of cards in his hands. "But what're we gonna do about her, huh? She's got an army and we've just got us."

"Look, you've all been forgotten by your universes, but we can still take her if we team up. You got a Magneto here?" Wade questioned, hope in his voice that you knew was about to be crushed.

You moved to sit down at the table while you listened to the conversation carry on. There was a lot happening all at once and you didn’t know how to process any of it. Wade was desperate to get back to his own timeline, but Logan only seemed resigned. You didn't know how to accept the fact that Johnny was dead and you didn't know how to ignore the fact that Logan was still watching you.

When a plan was made to go after Cassandra and use Juggernaut's helmet to block her powers, you reluctantly agreed that it had some merit. If only because you wanted to get any type of revenge on Cassandra that you could to avenge Johnny.

The others were all on board and you knew most of them wanted nothing more than to bring Cassandra down as well. It was a suicide mission for most of you, but you figured if it meant stopping Cassandra and saving someone's universe, even if that someone was Wade Wilson, then it might be worth it.

"I'm in," you found yourself saying.

"Like hell you are," Logan cut in. "You'll just get yourself killed again and I can't--"

"I'm not dead," you pointed out, aware that the others were watching the pair of you. "I'm right here, because I'm not the one you lost."

"Well, I sure as hell don't want to go losing you again. You can't tell me you think this whackjob's plan is actually going to work out? He’s an idiot."

“Sticks and stones,” Wade muttered, rocking on his heels as he looked at Logan. “Sticks and stones.”

"You can do whatever you want," you told Logan, finally standing from your seat at the table. "But I'm going and if I die? Then at least I die doing something that's not just hiding and waiting for my inevitable end. At least I can help someone, even if it's a Deadpool," you said, gesturing towards Wade.

"Thanks?" Wade tried, sounding torn between flattered and insulted.

You didn't give Logan a chance to reply, because you left the room, opting to walk outside to get some distance from him.

Later, you heard from Remy that you were heading out first thing in the morning. You agreed to be ready by then and spent the rest of the evening invisible. You wanted to be alone, but you also hated the idea of losing one last opportunity to talk to Logan, even if he wasn't yours.

He was outside, staring into the fire he started, and steadily drinking Remy's liquor. You approached him as Laura was leaving his side. Even though you were still invisible, she seemed to know you were there, and walked around you.

You stayed a few feet behind him, watching him frown into the fire.

"I know you're there," Logan called out, turning to look over his shoulder. "You were never good at hiding from me."

You let yourself go visible before you continued to walk towards him. "My Logan didn't really give a shit about me, so I guess he knew where to find me, he just didn't care," you observed with a sigh. Having this Logan around was only showing you what you had missed out on in your universe with your Logan. You reached out to grab the bottle from Logan before taking a drink and handing it back. "You know, I wanted nothing more than for him to love me back. But I wasn't enough for him. And he knew, he knew everything I felt for him, but he never felt the same. I was just someone to warm his bed while his thoughts were with someone else."

Logan was quiet for a few moments before he held the bottle back out to you.

"You've made it clear you're not my wife," he started, keeping his gaze on the fire. "But I don't think you get that I'm not him. I see you and, God, I wish I could keep you safe. I wasn't able to save her. I wasn't able to save any of them and it's my fault my team, my family, my wife are all gone. I walked away and they died because of it," he admitted and you could see a tear begin to slip down his cheek. You had never seen your Logan so vulnerable and you didn't know what to do with this one. "I don't want to lose you again. I know you're not her, but I don't want to walk away and know that you died because of it."

"Then don't walk away," you whispered, moving until you were right beside him. You could feel the heat emanating off him and it sent a shiver down your spine. You had felt the chilling sense of isolation for so long that feeling Logan again felt like you were coming back to life.

"I know I wasn't happy to see you," you allowed with a grimace. "But since you got here, you've done nothing but remind me that I could have had what I wanted all along, but I was stuck in the wrong damn universe. And maybe it was possible for my Logan to love me all along and I just wasn't enough."

"Your Logan is a fucking idiot," he growled, finally looking at you. "You're here in this shithole because of him and you're ready to sacrifice yourself for someone you don't even know. He was the one who wasn't good enough. I guess I'm more like him than I would want to be."

You took a chance and reached out to grab Logan's hand. You were both grieving different people and you knew you weren't his wife, but you wanted to offer him comfort all the same. You also couldn't deny that the feeling of Logan's hand in yours felt like a balm for the pain you had been carrying around since falling into the Void.

His hand tightened around yours and you saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"You're enough, Logan," you assured him. "And I believe in you," you confessed. "You don't have to go tomorrow, but I'm going to be there. And if this is the last moment I ever get with you, then there's one thing I want to do."

Logan furrowed his brow in confusion before his expression smoothed out into surprise. You had leaned forward, just barely letting your lips brush his, waiting for him to either lean in or push you away.

You waited for a beat longer, sure you were making an idiot of yourself, before you felt Logan's hand at your hip. He pulled you closer, practically into his lap, as he returned the kiss. It was passionate and tender and in turns aggressive and searching. His tongue was twined around yours and his teeth were nipping at your lips and your head was beginning to spin from the rush. Logan let out a whimper and his hand clutched your hip tighter, and you knew you were going to have a bruise there by the next morning, but you didn’t mind that there would be a reminder of this moment.

You reluctantly pulled away, meeting his eyes and noticing how Logan looked like he was ready to drag you back into another kiss.

"Thank you," you whispered, reaching up a hand to brush your thumb over his bottom lip. You let it drag down briefly and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to it. Your Logan had been rough and demanding and uncaring, but the love and want this Logan had poured into the kiss had shown you what it would have been like for the love of your life to love you back. Maybe, with that memory, your death the next day would be a little sweeter.

"Y/N," Logan started, but didn't continue.

You offered him a sad smile and started to stand. "I should try to sleep. I've got a big day tomorrow."

You moved to leave, but Logan reached out and grabbed your hand. He reeled you back towards him, causing you to drop down into his lap, but he caught you by the hips. He wrapped his arms around your waist and trailed his hand up your back before it was resting against the back of your neck. He pulled you down into another kiss, this one just as intense, but less frenzied. Logan kept you in place with just the slightest pressure of his hand on your neck and you let him pour everything he had into it.

By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and speechless, reluctant to leave now that you had another taste of him.

"I'll see you in the morning," Logan promised, finally releasing you from his hold.

It took you while to shake off your daze, but then you realized what he was telling you.

You felt a smile tug at your lips before you got off his lap.

"See you in the morning," you agreed before leaving Logan in search of your bed.

The drive in the Honda Odyssey was cramped, but Wade insisted if it could house an all-night brawl between a Deadpool and a Wolverine, then it would hold the rest of you just fine all the way to Cassandra's lair. And then he started spouting off something about safety features and cup holders and you started to wonder if following his plan had been the dumbest thing you had ever done.

You found yourself sneaking glances at Logan at the rear of the car. He was watching you the whole time and every time your eyes met, a little spark of heat shot through you. Maybe he wasn't your Logan, but he had helped you begin to heal all the same. And now you were starting to fall for an entirely different Logan who was likely leaving the Void while you stayed behind and died to get him out.

Life had never been fair to you, but you hated that it was downright cruel to you as well.

By the time you were arriving at Cassandra’s, you were starting to wonder if there had ever been a happy ending for you in store or if it was just supposed to be one tragedy after another.

You lined up with the others as you faced down Cassandra's henchmen. You could see Azazel popping in and out of view and Psylocke trailing through the crowd. Juggernaut was staring down the group while Toad perched high above, a smirk on his face. There were dozens of them and you had no idea how you were going to pull it off, but even if you did die, at least it was to save someone's universe, even if it wasn't your own.

"You know how long I've been waiting for this? Ooohuee, I'm about to make a name for myself here," Remy boasted, eagerly bouncing on his feet while he began to charge a card.

"I don't think any of you walk away from this," Logan pointed out, sending a quick glance your way.

"You just make sure they know what happened here today," Remy continued, not seeming to care that he was staring death right in the face.

"We'll watch your six," Blade told Logan and Wade. "You get up there and we'll get you that helmet."

Before he could follow Wade, Logan turned to you and pulled you close. He pressed a kiss to your lips, one full of longing and grief. "I don't want to leave you," he murmured into the kiss.

You pulled back to meet his eyes, ignoring the fact that you felt like you were losing him all over again. "What you're fighting for is more important," you told him. "Maybe we'll meet again in another universe."

"Maybe," he agreed before kissing you again.

This one was brief, but it left you wanting more.

You watched Logan follow Wade before you were caught up in the fight between your friends and Cassandra's lackies.

The fight was terrifying, because the stakes were so high. You flickered in and out of visibility as needed and used your forcefields to protect your friends or attack your enemies. You used a forcefield to gather rocks and then propelled it into someone just to turn invisible to avoid someone's knife.

You were exhausted as the battle waged on and you knew that circumstances were beginning to look dire for you and your friends. Most of you were hurt and bleeding, and the fight was beginning to drain out of you.

You got distracted by Laura taking Juggernaut out and managing to get his helmet up to where Logan and Wade were no doubt dealing with Cassandra despite Psylocke intervening. You moved towards them, but you felt a searing pain in your side and you looked down to see the end of Azazel’s tail sticking through your flesh.

He jerked you back towards him and a blade sliced through his tail, freeing you. You were quick to form a forcefield around Azazel before he could escape and you began to press in on the sides, shrinking it down so he had nowhere to go. You could see him trying to teleport out, but it wasn’t working, and a look of panic flashed across his face.

You kept pressing in until his skin started to split and blood began to pour. All at once, you swept the sides in, watching as Azazel was crushed. You let the forcefield go and watched as his remains fell to the ground with a splat.

“You squashed him like a bug,” Eric observed with a nod of his head, cleaning Azazel’s blood off his blade. “Impressive.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at Blade, glancing down at the gash in your side.

“Keep your head,” he warned you just as someone rushed at you. You went invisible and stepped to the side, letting them impale themselves on Eric’s sword.

The battle took twists and turns, but after getting stabbed in the shoulder and nearly losing consciousness when someone hit you on the back of the head, you realized that the bodies were starting to drop, but your friends were still standing.

You figured your victory would be short-lived when the skies began to darken and Alioth showed on the horizon.

“He’s looking for a meal,” Elektra grunted, avoiding a hit to the side before using one of her twin sais to bring someone to their knees. She finished them off with a strike to their neck before she turned to look at the rest of you. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

You were distracted by a portal opening up in the air above you and you looked up in time to see Logan and Wade jumping through it.

Someone grabbed your arm and you instinctively moved to hit them, but you realized it was Elektra.

"Come on!" She yelled over the roar of Alioth and pulled you to cover inside Cassandra's lair.

"That was a close one," Remy said as he helped Blade into the makeshift shelter.

"But they got away," Laura pointed out with a small, satisfied smile.

"And we got to kill the fuckers that've been making our lives hell," Remy added with a grin. "Any of you see that one trick I pulled? I got the cards charged up and then guy went boom."

He looked so pleased with himself that you couldn’t stop the helpless little laugh you let out. The past few days had felt absurd and surreal, and you couldn’t even tell if it was all some fever dream. Maybe Remy had spiked his liquor to keep unsuspecting people out of it and you were currently back in the hideout, riding out one terrifying trip.

But when you twisted to the side, you felt like your side was splitting open all over again and you let out a gasp. Elektra knelt at your side, studying your wound with a frown.

"So, what happens now? Are we just stuck here until we know it's clear? We go back to our hideout and wait forever? Half of us need some kind of medical attention,” she pointed out, searching around her until she found a discarded jacket. She pressed it against your side and you let out a hiss of pain.

"Well, we didn't die, so at least there’s that," you offered with a shrug of your shoulders. "I figure we've earned some retirement. Even if we're still stuck here," you allowed with a wince as you pressed a hand to your shoulder. The wound was deep and still bleeding, but you figured you had suffered worse before. You were going to need stitches and painkillers and some more of Remy’s liquor, but at least you were still breathing.

You weren't sure how long you waited for the storm to pass, but by the time you got back outside, it was already dark. Most of the bodies were gone, consumed by Alioth, and you leaned into Elektra’s side as she helped you navigate the various body parts left behind.

"Think the car will make it back?" Remy wondered, surveying the Odyssey with its crushed sides and flat tires. It was practically drenched in blood and viscera, nearly indistinguishable as a vehicle.

"Why don't you start it up and see?" Eric prompted, looking at Gambit like he thought he was a special kind of stupid. “Maybe we can ride one of your little cards back to the hideout. How far can you throw them?”

"That won't be necessary," a voice interrupted, startling you.

A portal had opened up to your left and a woman had walked through it. She had soldiers behind her who were wearing uniforms with a TVA logo stamped on the right arm.

"Wade Wilson struck a deal for all of you," the woman continued, surveying the group. "It's time for all of you to go home."

“Home?” Remy repeated with a skeptical look at the rest of you. “What if we don’t have a home?”

“Then wherever you’d like to be,” she amended. “With conditions, of course.”

It turned out that Wade and Logan not only saved Wade's universe, but every universe. Cassandra had wanted nothing to exist except for the Void where she reigned and both of them had managed to stop her.

You never considered that your fight with Cassandra’s minions wound end with anything except for your death. You certainly never thought you would have the option to leave the Void.

You definitely didn't want to return home, so you asked if you could stay in Wade's universe. Logan and Laura had opted to stay as well and since your variant had never been born in Wade’s universe, you were welcome to stay. It felt like you were getting the opportunity to carve out the kind of life you wanted all along. One where you knew you would be welcome and wanted without fearing that you would be abandoned for someone else.

Now, you were sitting around a table with Wade's family and the beginnings of a new one for you. Laura was sitting to your left and Logan to your right and you couldn't help but feel like this was where you had belonged all along.

Logan had admitted that he wasn't allowed to try to save the people in his universe, but he wanted to be whatever you needed or wanted him to be in your new one. You knew that was a daunting order for someone like Logan, so you settled for telling him that you wanted to start at the beginning.

You wanted to get to know this Logan, because even though you already loved him, you knew that you wanted a clean slate. One where you weren’t comparing him to your universe’s Logan and one where you gave him every opportunity to show you that he was better. You also didn’t want him to just see the ghost of his wife in you, so you wanted him to get to know you.

You soaked up the love and laughter that flowed through the room and met Logan's gaze. You weren't even surprised to see that he was already watching you. You reached out to grab his hand, delighting in the way he immediately welcomed your touch.

You no longer felt forgotten and hopeless. Everything you had yearned for, fought for, in your old life had quite literally dropped right into your new one and you couldn't have been more grateful for another shot at happiness.

From the way Logan smiled at you and brought your hand up to kiss the back of it, you knew he was just as appreciative at the opportunity to turn his life back around.

"Thank you," you whispered to him, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

"Nothing to thank me for," he answered before dropping another kiss on the crowd of your head.

You wanted to argue with him and tell him that he had saved you, but you figured you would tell him later. For now, you were going to enjoy the feeling of belonging you felt and look forward to the fact that there would be a later with Logan.

Edited To Add: I am writing a sequel! It's going to involve Cable (even though he didn't test well) and Logan getting payback on reader's original Wolverine on her behalf and a whole bunch of other fun surprises!! If you want to be tagged, just let me know!

The sequel is HERE for anyone interested!

This is now a whole series! Main post for the series is HERE.

[shotmrmiller]

1.8k of what was supposed to be a drabble, oops. same au as this just different situation.

there he is.

the titan the crowd calls Ghost. a creature who seemed to have crawled out of the abyss itself, rage etched into the very marrow of his bones. scars crisscross his arms, chest, and back— souvenirs of battles both won and lost. no one knows much about him. no real name, no past, no future. blank.

a void.

just like his sunken eyes, the only thing anyone can see from behind the midnight black skull balaclava that clings to his face like a second skin. (does he even remember what he looks like underneath?) he stands in front of the club's owner in ragged clothing: a tattered wifebeater that's been stitched, torn, and re-stitched. his pants have strained seams and patched knees. his boots are high cut, made of worn, scuffed leather with laces in the front, pulled tight. functional.

he's terrifying. most here come to fight for glory, for redemption, for escape. not he, though. reverent whispers claim this is all he knows. that he fights like a cornered, wounded beast, with no discipline nor strategy. just primal hunger and unmatched ferocity.

and that's who your idiotic, egotistical boyfriend wants to fight. granted, he's a pretty damn good boxer. not that you'd know much about that, you're simply parroting what you've heard his coach say. but this isn't boxing. no one here wears a padded helmet, with comfortable gloves and silky shorts. the fellow with the mohawk currently fighting isn't even wearing a mouthguard, for fuck's sake.

there are no fucking rules, no referees, no honor, no mercy.

your shoulders rise up to your ears as you tense at a nasty blow the pretty one you've come to learn is named gaz gives mr. mohawk. it splits his lip instantaneously, crimson dribbling down his chin and onto his barrel chest. he should be in pain, but there's only a glint of madness in those bright blue eyes of his. the crazed smile he gives gaz is all blood-stained teeth.

your boyfriend taps you on your shoulder, making you jump. "i'm gonna go talk to mr. price now that he's no longer busy."

what?

"no! you can't be serious!" the metal chair you were seated on screeches as you shoot up and run after him, feet slipping on the mud-slicked floor. "hey! wait!"

he reaches the tall, burly man(broker?) with the antiquated mutton-chop beard before you do. the tailored suit clings to his large frame, molding to his mountainous shoulders and tapered waist. his polished shoes are pristine, unlike the surface he's standing on that's littered with wager slips and sodden with cheap beer.

"don't. be smart, fight smart. you can't possibly— did you see the way the one with the mohawk took a hit to the face without flinching? he's insane! they all are!" you flick your eyes to mr. price. "no offense."

he chuckles low. "none taken, sweetheart. soap's a vigorous man, is all."

soap. gaz. ghost. they've all got bloody fighting nicknames. meanwhile, the only thing your boyfriend's ever been called is dearie by his elderly neighbor.

"your pretty girl's right. i'd steer clear of the pit. this ain't no place for a sheltered bloke such as yourself." his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, yet it felt like a facade. the evenness of his tone had dread crawling up your spine.

"boss." you squeak at the deep voice that comes from beside you— accent thick on his tongue.

mr. price waves a hand dismissively, the rings that adorn his fingers glinting under the dim light of the overhead lamps. "it's nothin' but a couple a'folk placin' their bets."

the look of unfettered stupidity flashes on your boyfriend's face as he turns his head and realizes just who mr. price was talking to. "if it isn't the masked specter himself."

stupid. stupid stupid stupid. god, your boyfriend came in one piece but he's going to leave in bloody pieces if you don't stop him. "stop," you hiss. "this ridiculous stint of yours is over." as is this sorry excuse of a relationship. he'd been a sweet guy at some point, or maybe you were just blinded by his good looks. "sorry for the bother, mr. price. we'll be taking our leave." tugging on your boyfriend's sleeve, you try to lead him away but he stays anchored in place, posturing like a peacock; chest out, shoulders squared and head held high.

he looks at ghost as he challenges him. "name your price. anything, i can meet."

how he can be so blasé in the presence of this bastion is beyond you. ghost stands tall, his shadow engulfing you whole. you can feel the weight of his presence, a crushing force pressing against your sternum. he doesn't speak; and honestly, he doesn't have to. ghost's silence spoke volumes.

"he's not interested, see? let's just go before we're thrown out on our arses."

but your boyfriend doesn't concede. if anything, it only adds fuel to the fire. "not good enough for you? eh? is that it? think yourself untouchable just because you're king of the underbelly?" he goads.

your cheeks are hot, scalding with embarrassment. he's starting to garner attention from the audience that's supposed to be watching the current fight.

and then ghost breaks said silence. "i don't want your money." his rich voice reverberates through bone and marrow; it rattles your very core. "you didn't work hard for it, i can tell. golden spoon runt."

your boyfriend's eyes ignite with anger. for a moment, you thought he was going to swing on the spot, but then, like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated. his fists unclench, his jaw relaxes. "what do you want, then?" he questions.

ghost tips his head your way as he keeps his gaze on your boyfriend. "her. i win, she's mine."

you should've known your now ex would agree. nothing would keep him from accomplishing his goals of 'putting the big dog down' as he so eloquently put it. now you're firmly sat right next to price on the stands (because you will not be calling him john anytime soon, no matter how many times he corrects you) essentially as his hostage.

"nothing personal, sweetheart. i'm a businessman, after all, and the prize walkin' out the front door would be bad for business. hope you understand."

no, you don't. so you tell him as such.

"tha's alright. simon'll take good care of ya, i promise."

"is there any particular reason you're so cocksure of your simon winning?" you manage to ask, your voice fragile.

he takes a thick inhale of his cigar before answering. "unfortunately for you, i've seen it all— the broken bones, shattered dreams, and—" you watch tendrils of smoke unfurl from his mouth, "adversaries who never walked back out."

spectators have already begun to huddle around the cage, puffing on cheap cigarettes. they all look desperate, eyes gleaming with greed. this time the one collecting wagers is a blonde woman, older in age, with her hair in a low bun and a puffer vest. "that your wife?"

he curls a large hand around my shoulder before twisting to look at— "laswell? no. don't swing tha' way." price gives you a gentle squeeze.

oh. you can feel warmth creeping up your neck. "sorry. didn't mean to- er. i didn't know."

"'s'alrigh'. her wife's nice enough. you'll like 'er.'' her wife? the confusion must've shown because he rumbles out a laugh. "no. it'd be me barkin' up the wrong tree. i—" he tightens the grip on your shoulder, "like whatever's pretty to look at." his words from before resounded in your head.

'your pretty girl's right...'

the heat that'd receded now stung the tips of your ears. whatever words you want to say are lodged in your throat but thankfully, you're saved by the bell. literally.

the rusty thing tolls and the crowd hushes their voices and stills their restless shuffling. first walks in your ex (idiot), looking exactly like what ghost had called him earlier— a golden spoon child. his shorts are glossy, even under the flickering, sickly light that falls over the cage. his boxing gloves are a vibrant red, pristine as if right out of the box. (you don't remember soap getting his pretty face broken by hands with gloves, but whatever.) he looks perfect, like something out of a hollywood movie.

and so out of place.

unlike ghost who's just stepped into the ring— who commands the attention of all within the hazy room. he fits right in with the rats who scurry around in the bowels of the city. he moves like the shadows that cling to the dark corners, his steps silent as whispers. a haunted being— one the world above with its neon signs and bustling crowds has long forgotten— has made his home down here.

ghost bumps his mma gloves with your ex's boxing ones, in a show of surprising sportsmanship.

the bell tolls once again, and the fight begins.

and just as quickly as it began, it ended. you blink, momentarily displaced, because there is no way what just happened is real. there hadn't been no real fight. it'd been one devastating blow to the side of your ex's jaw that ended everything. he hadn't stood a chance. it—

"'s done. sorry, love. but simon's headin' this way to claim his prize." price gives you a sympathetic pat to your back. "i swear it on my life he won't harm a hair on your head."

what?

ghost barrels through the roaring crowd and comes to a stop before you. "you're with me, now. best get used to it." shock blurs your vision, or maybe it's the fact that you've been hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder that did it.

it doesn't matter. the one you came here with is currently lying limp on the stained mat, his mouth hanging open a little awkwardly. is he broken? you're put down on a bench in a large dressing room that has only one tall locker in it with a tiny ghost sticker on the front.

"did you... is he dead?" you ask, pulse quickening.

"no. either dislocated or broke tha' jaw of 'is only."

you sputter when metal clinks on the surface of the wooden table he's currently leaning his weight against. dusters? "you used fucking dusters?"

he turns his head and looks at you, piercing and intense. "you and i both know i didn't need anythin' to knock his teeth down his throat, isn't tha' right, pet? eh?"

his knuckles are calloused and heavily scarred, the little finger bent at an angle even when straight. "don't worry 'bout him, you're with me, now." he shrugs on a plain, black jacket and heads for the door. "try to leave and i'll jus' find you again. don't make this any harder than it has to be."

welcome to the rat king's domain, sweetheart.

[dollfaceksj]

the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments. Humorlessly laughs at your request. Drops his head. Shakes it from side to side in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin. Causes you to squirm and moan under him like a fish separated from a body of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your slick-covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry rips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I–just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

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[wideeyedloner]

I've seen so many posts talking about the Honda scene being a visual metaphor for Deadpool and Wolverine having sex that I want to talk about the film as a whole for a second:

Deadpool & Wolverine is a romantic comedy.

There are a bunch of places (including this one) that describe the format of a romantic comedy, but the basic beats are as follows:

1. Introduction to your protagonist "Okay, Peanut, guess we're getting that team-up, after all." Deadpool and Wolverine opens on Wade digging up Logan's remains from Logan (2017).

2. The inciting incident "I'll do it." Paradox kidnaps Wade and blackmails him into locating a Logan to save his timeline. Cue "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls, featured in City of Angels (1998).

3. The meet-cute "You two going to fuck or fight?" After initially failing to resurrect his own timeline's Logan, Wade travels to several other timelines to find another in a montage set to Huey Lewis and the News' "The Power of Love".

4. The new reality/new world "Let's fuckin' go." Paradox sends them to the Void, ruled by Xavier's insane twin sister, where it turns out many other mutants have also been sent. They need to escape in order to save Wade's timeline and try to undo the events of Logan's timeline, which Wade has promised is possible. This requires them to work together.

5. The mirror moment/recommitment "I'm going to fight you now." Logan finds out that Wade lied to him in order to secure his cooperation, leading to the Honda fight scene set to "You're The One That I Want" from Grease (1978). Logan is demoralized but Laura convinces him that he's still needed. He really is; it's his compassion that convinces Cassandra not only to spare their lives, but to send them back to Wade's timeline if they're willing to take a leap of faith together.

6. The crisis/all is lost "They do not play nicely with each other." Cassandra is still insane, so she follows them because she'd like to eliminate all timelines and rule over everyone in the Void. To stop this, Paradox tells Wade and Logan that someone has to cut power to the device she's using at the guaranteed expense of their life.

7. The climax "I got nothin'. Give me this." Naturally, Wade and Logan fight over which one gets the privilege of sacrificing himself for the other. Logan initially wins him over with a heartfelt speech, but Wade gets Logan with a sneak attack. Wade struggles to make the connection between the terminals because they're further apart than the wingspan of a single human, but they're conveniently just the right size for two (ಥㅅಥ). Of course, the choir version of Madonna's "Like A Prayer" is playing here.

This scene encapsulated everything I enjoyed about this film: that it was stupid, emotional, action-filled, filthy, and obviously about romance between men. My husband is straight and he left the theater with me in full agreement that a) this was a romantic comedy and b) they had sex in in the Honda.

8. The resolution "Althea, this is--this is Logan." It's the end of the story, they're about to part ways, and Wade will never see Logan again if he lets him walk out of his life. So he takes Logan home and makes him part of the world he'd been telling Logan he'd been trying to save all movie long.

❤ The end ❤

The Soundtrack I can't tell you how excited I was about the soundtrack. It's full of old, romantic songs. "Only You (And You Alone)" has to be on like every doo-wop or "Best of the '50s" compilation album. "Iris" (oh god this song is old now) was featured in the romantic drama City of Angels. Everyone and their dog has covered "You Belong to Me", and the most famous recent cover has to be Jason Wade's version that was featured in Shrek (2001). Chris De Burgh may not be crazy about "The Lady in Red", but I think it's fucking sweet. I grew up on musicals and LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE "You're the One That I Want" from Grease (1978).

The Honda Odyssey Fight Scene I wanted to come back to this because there is so much to it. I'm bringing up "You're the One That I Want" again.

There are intentional parallels made between this dance number in Grease and the fight scene. It's about the flirtatious push and pull between Sandy and Danny throughout after she's made her superficial transformation into the 'bad girl' at the end of the movie. It's the same in the Odyssey between Logan and Wade. They throw each other in and out of the car as they fight (and sure, go in and out of each other).

Just look at this:

Yup, completely intentional visual metaphors for fucking galore. Logan and Wade even have a post-fight bondage scene.

Also! These scenes end with the couples in moving vehicles.

In conclusion: Deadpool & Wolverine is a violent romantic comedy. Of course they fucked.

[bohemianblasphemy]

can you write maybe billyxreader where reader finds out he slept with maeve and it bothers them and billy reassures them that it wasn’t serious and he loves reader, and they ask him to prove it.

i love a lil angsty smut ✨

@billybutcherrtrash

Numb.

That was all that you could feel in that moment. The abundance of tension in that room where the Boys had their meeting was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Butcher had dropped some intel for their mission to take down Homelander; the superweapon that had supposedly killed Soldier Boy, as well as a small supply of Temp V.

It was however, when he casually dropped the bombshell of how he got this information, which was in the form of sleeping with Queen Maeve.

“Purely transactional, nothin’ else.” He’d grin, before continuing the meeting as if it didn’t mean anything- especially to you.

Billy was a complicated man- He’s determined to get what he wants, even if it meant to sleep with the enemy.

Nothing could have prepared you for that news, the pressure of his words hung on you like dead weight. Uncertainties filled your mind as you thought about the obvious feelings that you and Billy shared for each other.

“Did what we have matter to him? Or was it just to fill in the void?”

It seemed that everyone besides Butcher, who was still yapping away was focused on you and how you were feeling; sending invisible messages of sympathy and pity toward you as you sat there motionless trying to subdue your pain.

Trying to avert your mind to anything else than what you just heard had proved unsuccessful, the image of him and Maeve burned into your brain.

The day was unbearably long, it was too much for you, choosing to feign illness and left for home early. Butcher saw right through your getaway, knowing deep down why you did.

As night fell, your apartment was quiet. Sitting on your small couch as you looked out the window, ruminating thoughts of his ‘transaction’ still fresh in your head.

Knocking on the door snapped you out of your thoughts as you made your way to look through the peep hole, seeing none other than Billy himself.

A part of yourself wanted to tell him to fuck off, the other begging to open the door. The latter of your thoughts won as you opened the door- Butcher waltzing in without so much as an acknowledgement.

“Well yes, of course come right in!” Your voice oozed sarcasm and annoyance as you shut the door. He snapped around to look at you.

“You ain’t sick, i know that.” he grumbled. “talk to me, i ain’t leavin’ till ya do.” You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms as you stared at him- staying silent as you figured out the words to say.

“Why her, Billy?” you choked on your words, not looking him in the eye. “How could you think that was okay to sleep with someone else?” Butchers expression showed regret and annoyance at himself, punching the bridge of his nose.

“Love, it wasn’t serious. It was just for the job- nothin’ more, nothin’ less!” his voice rose. “you know the shit i gotta do for the Boys.”

“just for the job?! are you serious right now?” you echoed his words, disbelief laced through your tone. “How do you expect me to believe that?”

Silence fell over the both of you, surrounded by uncomfortable tension. “You didn’t think of me at all?” your voice cracked, Butcher looking over at you with a guilt ridden expression as he strides over to you- placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Listen to me.” he looked into your eyes, his gaze piercing through your anger. “I. Love. You. only you, you get me?” He looked for a sign in your eyes, anything to indicate how you felt.

He sighed. “Maeve and I… it was nothin’, she means nothin’ to me. Nothing like how i feel about ya. You’re the only one that matters to me, the only one i want.”

Your heart raced at his words, but the hurt you felt in your heart still lingered.

“Then prove it…”

You challenged, seeing Billy’s eyes widen.

“Show me that i am the only one you love.” you stepped toward him, the short distance closed between you.

“Oh I’ll prove it to ya alright…” he murmured, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. Before you could even speak his hand reached to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a bruising kiss.

The kiss deepened quickly, his tongue invading your mouth as he backed you up toward the nearest wall; he hands running up under your shirt and pulling it over your head.

Goosebumps formed along your now bare torso, Butchers calloused hands roaming around your body.

“God you’re just… fuckin’ stunning.” he mumbled as his lips attached to your neck and sucking a red mark onto you, making you purr.

His lips trailed further down as he sat on his knees in front of you you, his digits working on the drawstring on your pants as he pulls them down your thighs along with your underwear.

With a swift movement he turns you around, your chest pressed against the wall. His hands running up your thighs, pushing them apart.

“Bend over f’me…” he growled, his voice laced in arousal. Obeying his word, you pushed your hips backward, hands braced against the wall- hearing him groan softly at the sight before him.

You heard him shuffle forward, his large fingers dug into your fleshy backside. “I can’t get enough’f this pussy…” he whispered as he dragged his tongue along your folds, burying his face between your legs.

The sinful mix of your moans and Butchers mouth moving along you filled the room. Your legs shook as Billy continued lapping his tongue on you, occasionally smacking you ass causing you to yelp.

Your orgasm came quickly, Billy’s hands holding you up as your legs shook from the overwhelming pleasure of his skilled tongue. “God lovey, i could taste you for hours…” he chuckled, gently biting your ass cheek as he stood back up behind you, unzipping his jeans.

“I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good love…” you felt him line up with you, moaning as he started to tease your sopping cunt with the tip of his cock before plunging deep inside of you.

Hot breath invaded your ear as you were pounded into from behind, Billy taking a grip of your hair.

“You feel me huh? you feel how f-fuckin’ ‘ard i am f’ya?” he grumbled, grabbing your hips roughly. “It’s all f’you. no one else but you, ya hear me?”

You couldn’t reply, the pleasure was too overwhelming for you. Rough fingers snaked down towards your middle, rubbing your sensitive clit.

You whined at the added sensation as your second release was near, Butcher nearing his as his cock pulsated within your walls.

Heavy groans erupted from behind you, his fingers moving faster as he felt you clench around him. “Fuck Billy!” you cried out, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. “that’s a good fuckin’ girl, cum on my cock…” he growled in your ear.

His thrusts became sloppier as he came inside you. “fuck… i can’t get over you, my sweetheart…” he praised, turning you around and bringing you in for a passionate kiss.

Pulling away from the kiss he looked you, looking in your eyes - hoping to find a glimpse of convincing you of his love.

Your eyes look at him with a neutral expression.

“As good as that was…” you giggled, moving your mouth closer to his ear.

“it’s gonna take a lot more convincing…”

[rebouks]

Ivan stared at the contents of his suitcase blankly, barely paying attention to what he was packing as he flicked the zip back and forth. “I didn’t think you’d be here.” He remarked, glancing over his shoulder.

“I was waiting for you-.. where’s Pixie?” Bruno asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer. “Oscar’s.” “Are you coming back, or..?” Bruno mirrored Ivan’s fidgeting, picking at the fluff on his old joggers. “I don’t know, I need t’think for a while-.. I��m goin’ away with Tilda n’ Mia for a couple weeks n’ all.”

Ivan snapped his attention back upon his luggage. It would’ve been easier if Bruno hadn’t been home, he was bound to forget something now, distracted as he was.

“Ivan, I-…” Ivan interrupted Bruno before he could continue, “Explainin’ ain’t gonna change anythin’ is it?”

Bruno fell silent, struck with inertia at the edge of the bed. He should’ve explained, pleaded, threw himself at Ivan’s feet and promised he’d never return to Oasis Springs-.. but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“I’m probably gonna find someplace else when I get back-.. dunno what you wanna do with the house, but I don’t want it. Y’could buy me out, I guess, or we could sell it.” Ivan filled the void with practicalities that Bruno didn’t want to envision just yet.

“We don’t have to decide anything right now.” He offered, instead. Ivan shook his head, “I ain’t gonna change my mind.” Bruno thought as much, but he still couldn’t help himself from adding, “I still love you, for what it’s worth.”

Ivan paused for an excruciating moment before sighing, deflating Bruno’s glimmer of superfluous hope, “I ain’t sure what it’s worth anymore…”

“It’s not the same as before.” Bruno pleaded, “Kaden’s-…” Ivan rose to his feet, dismissing Bruno’s words with a wave of his hand, “I don’t want nothin’ t’do with any of ‘em-.. apparently, that includes you.”

Bruno tugged at Ivan’s wrist before he could leave, manoeuvring himself between him and the door; his unusually calm, cold shoulder cut far deeper than Bruno expected it would.

“You don’t have to have anything to do with them-.. no one’s in any danger.” Ivan huffed disbelievingly, sidestepping Bruno’s efforts to stop him from leaving, “Keep tellin’ yourself that.” “It’s different with-…”

Ivan finally lost his air of composure, cutting Bruno off mid-sentence, “Was it not excitin’ enough for ya?  D’ya not feel alive unless y’pushin’ folk around, fuckin’ someone over-.. is doin’ whatever y’please the only thing that gets your blood pumpin’? Does it make life worth livin’?” Bruno blinked as Ivan confronted him, not quite expecting such a succinct breakdown of all his supposed failings.

Ivan’s steady gaze faltered somewhat once he’d said his piece though; his brief flash of anger replaced by sadness as he asked, “All this time-.. why’d y’even pretend, B?”

Bruno avoided Ivan’s gaze for a moment, unable to form a response; he hadn’t always been pretending, but as much as he hated to admit it, Ivan wasn’t too far off the mark. He didn’t particularly enjoy the lifestyle that he’d described, but it felt a hell of a lot more natural than trying to fit into this one; he wasn’t made for domestic bliss, he didn’t make Ivan happy, nor was he. They both knew he was playing pretend by now, but letting go was easier said than done, no matter how much you loved someone. In fact, love only made things more complicated.

Ivan pulled away from Bruno, punching through the silence than hung thick between them, “I just need some space, okay? Do whatever y’want with yours.” Bruno tugged desperately at Ivan’s shirt as he turned away, “Wait-.. can we just talk about everything when you get back?”

Ivan sighed morosely, offering a weak shrug, “Sure, let’s prolong the inevitable-.. what’s a few more weeks?”

Bruno hung his head as another rogue tear escaped down the side of his nose. Ivan’s demeanour felt so wearisome, so final-.. but Bruno didn’t want to let go, not that it felt fair to try and convince him to stay either.

“Don’t fuckin’ cry, B! Don’t act like this wasn’t on you!” Ivan spat, his uneven tone betraying the lump that resided in his own throat.

Bruno stuck his fingers beneath his glasses, jamming them into his eye sockets; he thought Ivan’s familiar anger would’ve consoled him, but it didn’t.

“I tried, okay? I really did-.. n’ you did too, I know y’did…” Ivan added a little more softly, as though he understood; as though it wasn’t really Bruno’s fault, like he wasn’t truly angry at him-.. even though it wasn't true.

Bruno nodded; the tips of his fingers still pressed firmly against his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the pain from overcoming him completely.

“Bruno, don’t…”

Ivan tried to pry Bruno’s fingers away from his eyes, wordlessly begging him not to make this harder than it already was.

He acquiesced, dropping his hands to his sides as Ivan gently caressed his cheek, his eyes brimming with a million different emotions at once-.. but that was Ivan, and that was the problem.

He hated, loved and felt everything with intense fervour, unapologetically wearing his heart on his sleeve for all to see; a heart so full of love and passion that Bruno felt inadequate in comparison. He couldn’t reciprocate any of it the way Ivan deserved; it would never be enough.

Hollow and empty in contrast, Bruno could never hope to give as much as Ivan was worthy of, and he was worth the world-.. but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to pretend.

Maybe just one last time…

Previous // Next

[grimesrhees]

Good Luck, Babe.

pairing: maggie greene/rhee x fem!reader

genre: angst, mostly.

warnings: mentions of intimacy & alcohol

notes: I rarely write so please enjoy my own self indulgent attempt at it solely for my queen Maggie<3 (this also took me forever, thanks adhd😅)

summary: based on Chappell Roan's song Good Luck, Babe! Set (mostly) before the zombie apocalypse, Maggie struggles with her feelings towards other women. reader gets caught in between, falling for her knowing Maggie isn't ready to accept herself yet.

-Pre-Zombie Apocalypse-

How the hell did I get here again?

You thought to yourself as you lay sweaty and tingly all over, staring into the void of the dark ceiling above. You knew exactly how you got here, in bed with Maggie Greene, yet again. All she had to do was bat those eyelashes your way and use that sweet southern drawl and you were a goner. Ever since you started getting to know each other at the beginning of the semester 6 months ago, you wanted to show her all the ways you could make her feel good. But from the start you were aware that this was experimentation for Maggie, being with another woman. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was attracted to women along with men. There were many occasions she’d drunkenly called or text you to come pick her up after one too many shots at the bar, only for you to walk in and find her making out with yet another man. But you always came anyway. Because even through the heart ache of this situationship, you couldn’t help but to start falling for Maggie. She was so smart and kind, gentle but fierce all the same, when she wasn’t being a stubborn bull in denial over the two of you.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you turned to face the soft, bare back of Maggie’s. All those days in the hot Georgia sun on her daddy’s farm had her shoulders and back peppered with freckles. You tried to take in every inch of her while you slowly drew your fingertips up and down along her spine. Maggie hummed sleepily at your touch, and you could feel you heart swell and break into pieces at the same time. You didn’t think you could take this, whatever this was between you and her, much longer.

You woke up early the next morning, way before Maggie, and decided to take a quick shower and brew some coffee. You poured two cups, set them both down on the small table and sat. After wrestling back and forth with your thoughts last night, before you mercifully fell asleep, you decided that it was best to talk to Maggie about what was going on between you two. You sipped the hot coffee slowly and stared into the black liquid abyss in front of you until you heard the small creaks of the floorboard.

Maggie’s figure appeared, wearing nothing but an oversized flannel shirt and a pair of lacey underwear. Her hair, completely disheveled from the passion of the night before. You couldn’t help your heart from fluttering at the sight. She leaned against the door frame and flashed you that winning, toothy smile of hers, signature lip bite and all. It quickly fell when she noticed the sad look on your face as you looked up from your coffee.

“Darlin’ why the sad face, what’s got you down this mornin’?” Maggie cooed in that sweet southern drawl of hers.

“After last night I cain’t have nothin’ but a smile on my face.”

You took a deep breath and looked up into Maggie’s big green eyes.

“Mags, what are we doing? Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? What are we?”

You prepped for the inevitable response you were going to get.

Maggie let out a huff and folded her arms across her chest.

“Whatta ya mean ‘what are we doin’ and ‘what are we’? We’re havin’ fun, it’s just casual sex y/n. We’re not anything but that…” she trailed off, almost as if she was convincing herself at the same time as the words were coming out of her mouth.

God she was so fucking stubborn.

You looked away from her and felt your eyes stinging with inescapable tears. Keeping those tears from falling would take everything in you, so you set your coffee down and started to get up from the table.

“Wait, y/n I didn’t mean it quite like that, you know how much I care about you," she shifted her body up straight,

"But this is just the way it is I can’t-"

You stopped her before she could finish.

“I know that this,” you motioned your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, “is more than “nothing”, more than just “casual” sex. You know that I love you, Maggie.”

Maggie’s mouth went agape for a brief moment before it snapped shut, her jaw tightening and brows furrowing. A mix of emotions flashed across her face, fear, frustration and sadness. She couldn’t will herself to say anything back to you, so you continued on.

“Y'know what, it’s fine. It's cool. You can kiss a hundred guys in bars, shoot shot after shot just to try and stop you from feeling what you know is true about yourself. Make all the excuses , give me all the stupid reasons, but I won’t be here for them. I can’t do this anymore.”

You stood quickly and snatched your bag off the back of your chair, walking over to Maggie and getting only inches away from her face. Even having just woken up she was exceptionally beautiful, and her scent was something you could get drunk off of. You had ripped the band aid almost all off, you had to control yourself, had to end this now, even though almost every ounce of your body was tempted to push her up against the wall and kiss her until you were both breathless and gasping for air.

“This isn’t something you can just hide from forever, Maggie Greene. And you will think about this, years from now, until maybe you finally fucking realize that. Face to face with my ‘I told you so,’ and a longing for what could have been.”

Maggie continued to just stare at you but with tears now brimming in her eyes, still too stubborn to respond to any of your words. Her eyes fell to your feet until you brushed past her and towards the front door. While reaching for the doorknob you turned and looked back at Maggie, tears already steadily rolling down your cheeks.

“Good luck, babe,” you managed to choke out before swiftly opening the door and closing it behind you with a thud.

-Some months into the Zombie Apocalypse-

Flashes of different images and sensations danced across her mind.

The wind whooshing through her hair as her arms stretched out through the car sun roof.

An arching back and the feeling of sweat rolling down her chest, in a state of complete pleasure. Soft moans and wet kisses.

Giggles rang in and out but soon faded into silence.

Your tear-stained face looking back at her, "I told you so," echoing loudly, and the slamming of a door. Suddenly a mirror appeared and only her heartbroken face was staring back at her.

Maggie awoke with a small gasp and sat straight up in her bed. She took a minute to steady her breathing while trying to recollect the dream she just had. Next to her she heard Glenn let out a sleepy sigh and shift in his sleep. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and put her head in her hands. The world ended and you were right, she couldn't hide the truth from herself forever. She had loved you, completely. Always did. Maggie laid her head back on her pillow, breathing a sigh of relief, finally allowing herself some acceptance.

[voidwalker007]

Mmm… skaterade…

[samcurrentlywriting]

Outside our comfort zone

Summary: The Bad Batch are still cadets, and need to prove themselves worthy of the money and efforts the Kaminoans spend for them. So, one day, Tech decides to modify the parameters for the battle simulation.

Word count: 1610

Prompts: "Injured" (main prompt) & "Comfort zone" (alt prompt)

Notes: This is a very quick soft cadet au story that kind of fits both prompts! I hope you enjoy!! (Banners & dividers by @summer-of-bad-batch)

Crosshair is crawling like a snake in the ventilation shaft, an activity he has found himself doing more and more often. He is silent and agile, and likes to watch people when they can’t see him. Usually, he just tries to spy on regs that were mean to his brothers, and then spills all their secrets. But that day, he sees Nala Se, the chief Kaminoan scientist, and Lama Su, the prime minister, walking together to her office, and the young clone cannot stop himself from following them. 

By the time he reaches the best position to eavesdrop, they have already begun talking. 

“Clone Force 99 is too costly, and not efficient enough to be worth the effort.”

“They will improve, but they need training. The work we have done on their enhanced abilities is of utmost importance. We need to test its limits.”

Crosshair swallows. He’s glad he followed his instincts. They’re talking about his squad. And not positively. The clone cadet sighs. They have been trying their best. But between the constant bullying from the regs and the countless medical tests they are always doing, they barely have any time to practice their combat techniques. 

“Their efficiency is too limited. They’re unpredictable, and therefore dangerous, we don’t know how much their mutations have impacted their programming.”

Nala Se tries to say something, but Lama Su cuts her short:

“Unless you can get them to expand their comfort zone, I’m afraid we will have to cease this experiment and terminate all the specimens.”

Crosshair’s heart skips a beat, and he doesn’t wait to hear if Nala Se defends them. He needs to go back to their quarters. 

When he opens the door, he is relieved to see his brothers doing ok. Wrecker is working on disarming some smoke bombs Tech made for him. Tech is lying in his bed, eyes riveted to his datapad. Hunter is playing with his knife in the center of the room, looking in the void. As soon as Crosshair enters, Hunter stands up to greet him, and frowns when he notices how disturbed his youngest brother looks. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I overheard the prime minister talking to Nala Se. He said that we’re not good enough to continue the experience. That we stay in our comfort zone during training, and that it’s too narrow, and that we’re unpredictable. If we don’t get better, they’re going to kill us!”

“They can’t do this! We’re already so much better than the regs!” Wrecker shouts, flexing his muscles. 

Hunter doesn’t say anything, but he holds Crosshair in his arms. The youngest clone is already taller than him, but he knows sometimes all Crosshair needs is reassurance, and feeling protected. 

“What do you suggest, Tech?” He asks once he’s let go of Crosshair.

The second-born readjusts his goggles. 

“We have another training session tomorrow morning. Nala Se always sets up the parameters so that they are quite easy. I suppose she is worried about damaging us, since she spent so much time researching us. However, I could hack into the system and change the parameters, making the simulation harder. If we pass, we will have proven that we can, in fact, go beyond our comfort zone, as he put it.”

The four brothers look at each other, a silent agreement forming between them. 

“Do it, Tech.”

“Don’t kill us either.” Crosshair grunts, suddenly feeling sick. 

What if Lama Su is right? What if they aren’t good enough? 

“There’s nothin’ in this facility that can kill us, ah!” Wrecker replies, before going back to his smoke bomb. 

“We need to plan strategies.” Hunter dictates. 

They spend most of the night preparing different plans depending on the situation. When they go to sleep, they’re all so tired they fall asleep immediately. 

The next morning, they all wake up a bit giddy, worried that this is their last chance to prove their worth. Tech works on his datapad for a little while, before confirming that the parameters of their simulation have been successfully changed. Hunter gives them a little pep talk before they go for breakfast in the mess hall. Luckily, this is one of the few mornings where the regs have better things to do than to bully them. They go back to their quarters to gear up, and walk to the simulation room. They step onto the elevating platform, and wait for their turn. They can hear blaster sounds and shouts from the group before them. 

Hunter frowns. They’re the only ones this age going for the simulation room. They are better than the regs. But he assumes the constant medical testing and the general process of making them were expensive. Being better than the regs isn’t enough for them. They need to be profitable. 

A green light flashes above their heads, and they brace themselves for the short way up. The platform shakes and begins its ascension. They enter the large simulation room, and catch a glimpse of the very much adult clones leaving the place. The members of Clone Force 99 look barely older than twelve. Hunter breathes in deeply, then nodds to all his brothers. They can do this. In front of them, a red light turns on, and then a blue one. They spring into action. 

Two seconds into the simulation, and they realize how different it already is. There are way more droids than usual, and they fire a lot. Hunter breathes in once more. When he’s calm and collected, he shouts:

“Plan forty-three!”

The four of them spring in action. Last night wasn’t the first time they devised plans. They heard a sergeant talk about a plan alpha once, and Tech thought it was a great idea to catalog all their strategies. Wrecker had the hardest time remembering the numbers, but he could guess which plan it was as soon as he saw how his brothers moved. 

Crosshair climbs quickly on a nearby tower, avoiding the blasts from the droids below him. Hunter attacks the droids from the left, Tech from the right, and Wrecker runs through them in the center. They move to the second half of the room within minutes. 

There is a tower they need to conquer. Hunter can feel there is an electromagnetic field protecting it, though he can’t see it. He signs at Crosshair, still on the tower:

There is a magnetic field, find the lever and deactivate it.

Copy that, the youngest clone signs back. 

More droids advance to their position, and they need to move if they don’t want to be caught. They hear Crosshair shooting behind them, and Hunter feels the magnetic field disappearing. 

“Forward!” He yells. 

They attack the droids standing in their way. Crosshair tries to take down as many as he can from where he is, but quickly realizes that he and his brothers are overwhelmed. Tech set the parameters too high. They aren’t good enough. 

As if he has heard him, Tech turns to Crosshair and shows the tower canons with his hands. Crosshair nods and shoots these down one by one. 

Down on the battlefield, Wrecker suddenly comes up with an idea. 

“Tech, I’m gonna throw you towards the tower, and you can climb the rest.”

“This is too dangerous, you will not be able to defend yourself during this time, and risk getting shot.” Tech retorts. 

“I got Crosshair and Hunter to protect me. We don’t have time to argue!” He adds when Tech raises his index and opens his mouth. 

Hunter, who hears them despite the racket, places his back to Wrecker, both his training guns pointed to the droids. 

Wrecker drops his gun, seizes Tech under the armpits and throws him with all his might to the tower, making him arrive about two thirds of its height. But as he hurls his brother, he feels a sudden pain in his back. He grunts, reaches for his gun and starts aggressively shooting all the droids around him. He knows this is a training, but the pain is very much real, and it burns him. Suddenly, all the droids stop moving, and he sees Tech waving from the top of the tower.

“Yeah Tech!”

He high-fives Hunter, who’s bearing a beaming smile. Immediately, he feels the pain in his back and falls to his knees. Crosshair and Tech run to him. 

“You are injured. I told you that would happen.” Tech teased.

“You need a medic.” Crosshair whispers, frowning. 

A kaminoan droid guides them outside the room, to the medical bay. There, another droid applies cold gel in the burnt area on Wrecker’s back. 

“Wounds like these are not supposed to occur during your training sessions. It appears the strength parameters were tampered with. Do you want me to file a report?”

The four brothers glance at each other before shouting at the same time:

“No, no need!”

The droid leaves them alone in the room. They’re soaked in sweat, bruised, but happy. They made it! They didn’t even know they had it in them. 

There is a knock on the door. They straighten. Lama Su and Nala Se enter the room, in that slow kaminoan fashion. 

“That was an impressive display.” The prime minister says. 

Nala Se stares at Tech, but her face is hard to read. Even Hunter cannot tell whether she is angry, or pleased, or simply doesn’t care. 

“Once CT-9903 recovers from his light injury, you will begin the second phase of your training.” The chief scientist added, before leaving them alone once more. 

They all smile and squirm with excitement. They can’t wait to go to a real battlefield, and fight off some real droids.

[rebelliousstories]

Fangirl

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 908

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: What do you do when you come across your childhood hero when you’re supposed to be saving the world? No, really, we need to know cause they don’t.

Consider Donating: Here

Being placed in the Void was not fun. The crime; being best friends with one Wade Winston Wilson. And now this was the culmination of their entire relationship. Stuck in a Wasteland, struggling to find a way out. They had been dealing with her friend and the new member, The Wolverine, fighting constantly in one form or another. It was frankly starting to get on their nerves. But watching them fight it out in a Honda Odyssey was quite entertaining, just not when they ended up passing out against a tree because the two mutants were not stopping for anything.

And now, they had woken up in an unfamiliar environment with unfamiliar people. Groaning, they began rubbing the stiffness out of their neck as they rolled over to place their feet on the ground. They say Logan nursing a bottle of alcohol, and Wade also waking up and getting out of bed. Deciding to stay there for a moment more, they were quite shock when things started happening around them.

Deadpool went over to the entrance, and collided with someone else’s weapons. A woman in a deep red suit stepped out from behind the corner. Following close by, a man in an all black suit who grabbed a large knife as soon as he walked in. Lastly, a playing card flew in, right as a familiar man in a leather trench coat caught it. It was him; Gambit.

All other noises and conversation was muffled by the sound of blood rushing through their ears. All they could focus on was that iconic suit. It was not until Deadpool nudged them that their focus was brought back into the present.

“Are you good there, angel cakes? Were you lost in your thoughts because the author didn’t feel like writing the dialogue for this scene?” Their brows furrowed as they looked at him, but he continued as if nothing had happened.

“Never mind, back to the important things.” As their eyes scanned over the group, they would instinctively land on Remy whenever possible. Occasionally, Gambit’s eyes would meet theirs, causing them to blush and drop their gaze. It started happening often enough that they wondered if the mutant was doing it on purpose.

After a while, everyone had found themselves strewn about the temple. They sat near Wade who was trying to befriend Blade, but was failing miserably. It seemed now, especially, their eyes refused to leave the Cajun that was drinking with Elektra in the corner. Weirdly enough, it seemed his eyes sought them out as well.

“Whatcha doing there, my little gender ambiguous chicken nugget?” Wade asked, spooking them. They jumped, but recovered quickly.

“Nothing. Why do you have to call me.” They swatted his hand away as it got closer to ruffling the hair on their head.

“So what’s your deal? Old gibberish mouth with the come over got your eye? ‘Just something about him telling you can’t quite put your finger on’, am I right? He is widely attractive though.” Their look was ridiculous as they looked at their friend in a red mask.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” They deflected.

“Oh I think you do. But I’ll let him get it out of you.” Without another word, Wade left them alone. While their head was turned, someone filled the spot on their other side. Turning back, it was just the wrong person they wanted to see; Remy.

“Ya doin’ alrigh’ pistache?” He asked, relaxing into the seat. It was a stark contrast to how they were sitting rigidly.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. Jus’ noticed ya a lil’ jumpy is all.” Gambit held a small smirk on his face. He knocked both of their shoulders together and watched their face closely.

“Oh no, that’s just. Um… really, it’s nothing to worry about.” They cursed as they felt heat rise to their cheeks. The smirk on Remy’s face became larger at this.

“Woo, ya got a crush on me or somethin’? Gambit’s not gonna blame you if you did. Gonna make tomorrow a little easier on my heart knowing I got such a cute pistasche in my corner.” Now that blush deepened. Before they could fire off another denial, a yawn ripped through them. Stretching, they began looking over the area for a place for them to rest for the evening.

“Come wit’ me.” Gambit muttered, waving them with him.

As they followed him through the room, they took note on how cozy this temple was for being a refuge in the Void. When they stopped, a bed had appeared in front of them. A couple personal items were on the table next to it; Remy could not be seriously considering letting them use his bed? However he allowed no time for protest.

“If ya need more blankets, give a holla. Good night pistasche. Tomorrow, I’ll show you just how cool dem card tricks can get.” With that, Gambit winked and left them standing there.

They were not entirely sure what had happened in just the short amount of time that they had encountered the Gambit in the Void. He was just like they expected him to be. Except, they thought they would be smoother in their comebacks and actions. At any rate, they settled themself into bed, dreaming. Dreaming of seeing him in action tomorrow. And somehow dreaming of him teasing them some more, but this time, they would have their comebacks.

[mxlktxa]

ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ)ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!ᴀᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ(ꜱ); ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ*, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴅɪɴᴀ ɴᴏʟᴀꜱᴛɴᴀᴍᴇ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ʀɪʟᴇʏ ᴀʙᴇʟ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ), ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ)

ᴄᴡ; 18+ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴇʟʟɪᴇꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜ (ꜱᴇʟꜰ ʜᴀʀᴍ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ(/ᴅʀᴜɢ ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ/ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴀʟ (ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ), ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ, ᴅᴏʟʟ, ᴇᴛᴄ)

ᴡᴄ; 1.2ᴋ, 6.8ᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

I had known this girl all my life. Since we were kids, really. She was just a sweet, innocent, happy girl. She could never do anything wrong. Even her appearance came off of such, definitely wouldn’t hurt a fly. Made friends easily— not with me, I was an ass—, super creative, and very talented. She was an angel, anyone would agree. You could love her oh-so easily.

Back when we were younger, she always came up to me whenever she saw me isolated from anyone else, wanting to hold conversations or just sit in a comfortable silence. As we got older, conversations were held much better and longer. She ended up giving me gifts out of the blue, begging me to accept them even when I told her to stop spoiling me. Drawings, little candy baskets, sweet notes, invitations for a sleepover or dinner at her parents.

I’m telling you. She’s the sweetest.

Later down the line, sometime between seventh and eighth grade, I would see her personality falter here and there, see her have her bad days, yet act like she was having such a fantastic one. Behind closed doors she would break down, screaming and crying her lungs out, verbally considering self-harm. I talked her out of it, thankfully, I didn’t want to see her so deep in an endless void.

Highschool rolled around, we were very, very different people. I ended up getting into substances I shouldn’t’ve gotten into, lots of fights, loads of rumors, and plenty of quick and unreasonable relationships. But her? She stayed the same. Perfect, gorgeous, happy, so very happy-go-lucky. Of course, she had her bad days, thats a given. But they were because of that stupid path I decided to walk down. And yet, that peachy little angel stayed by my side.

Fucking angel.

Around graduation, I was only smoking weed, selling some every now and again, taking time off of being in relationships. Fights were drastically reduced but rumors… Not so much. We went back to having sleepovers and little lunch dates. Mainly sleepovers as she said she enjoyed staying up with me and sleeping on top me more than sitting down and eating for what felt like ten minutes. She even encouraged me to go to college with her, move into a nice little home with her. As friends.

Moving in was wild. We would go out four times a week, constantly stay up late, and drink as if alcohol poisoning wasn’t a thing. That’s when I found out her appearance and personality was definitely not her default behavior. She was a total… let’s just say she’s not so innocent. She’s a wild dancer, crazy dirty talking, so flirtatious, highly sensual. That’s how she ended up basically admitting she’s always liked me and been dying to fuck me.

“Y’know, Els, I’ve always liked you. Love you, even. And I hated all those girls y’got with. Except that Riley girl. She was a sweetheart. M’but not Dina. ‘Specially Dina. Fuck her. Speakin’ o’ which, I would give anything to fuck you. To watch my sweet Ellie through half shut lids as she— …Mmph, nevermind. Sorry, m’sorry.”

“No, no. Tell me. Tell me what you want your ‘sweet Ellie’ to do. Hm? What do you want from me, princess?”

“Yeah? Y’wanna know?”

“Tell me, baby. No one’s around to judge.”

“I wanna watch you eat me out until I’m nothin’ but a crying, shaking mess. My legs, over your shoulders, our eyes filled with nothin’ but lust and pure love. Get me high beforehand, m’curious about what it might feel like.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm… Better yet, buy a strap and let me sit on it. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me. No complaints.”

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty.”

“Tell me about it.”

That entire interaction is what led me to actually laying her out and having her beyond fucked stupid. She asked and she received. Soon, we just labeled ourselves as a couple, she took me to meet her parents— as if I didn’t know them already— and I took her to meet mine. That includes Joel, even if he was just a really cool babysitter I had when I was younger. They love each other, platonically, of course.

“You? You’re the one that gave ‘er that bruise on ‘er arm?”

“Yep!”

“Y’seem so sweet, though. You’re also quite tiny. I reckon you could take ‘er in a fight, huh?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Our play fighting does not do her justice, Joel.”

“Hey! You cheat! All the time!”

“I do not.”

“Joel!”

“I believe you, don’t worry, kiddo.”

We rarely ever fought. If we did it was either over something stupid— which resulted in talking it out—, or for valid, genuine reasons— those resulted in building up tension for a few hours, fucking, then talking it out. Terrible, I know but lord was she so filthy and rough.

I loved this girl and everything we’ve ever been through. She dealt with me for so long, she helped me through everything, she changed me. Of course, she would say I did the same for her but I would harshly disagree. I haven’t done nearly as much as she has for me. Except proposing and marrying the girl.

Oh, boy was she crying and passing out for the next few days.

Now present day, here we were, married and going through old photos we had and the notes she gave me back then. She was sat in front me in her nightgown, giggling at every photo she found from middle school. The picture was handed to me, both of us in our halloween costumes from that year.

“Remember this? Our little pirate and princess phase?” her eyes met mine, sending shivers up my spine and some wild butterflies in my stomach. I could only nod and stare at her in silence, too hung up on her giddy expression. “We were so cute. We still are, don’t get it twisted, but… This is a different kind of cute.”

“You’re so gorgeous,” I spoke without really thinking, watching the love of my life perk up at the small compliment. God she was the cutest.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, "I think you're very handsome."

"Handsome?"

"Mhm."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she giggled, scooting back from me, "so handsome that I could die."

We stared at each other in a comfortable silence, slowly starting to smile and puff up our cheeks with air. Within seconds we blew raspberries and began laughing like crazy. While she was in the middle of laughing, I grabbed the nearby polaroid that she had beside her, aiming it at her laughing expression and taking the chance to snap the photo.

"Got 'cha, pretty girl," lowering the camera, she gasped and snatched the photo from the device in my hand, sliding it off to the side. Those eyes I adored so much landed on me, holding an idea we both knew I couldn't confuse.

"Y'know, Els," she started, having me roll my eyes immediately and nod to her, "why don't we start a little private collection?”

As per usual, she came up with something I never expected to leave her mouth. My head tilted to the side, surprised at the suggestion meanwhile she just shrugged while reaching for the camera, “here. I’ll start.”

Just like that, her dropped the straps on her nightgown over her shoulders, her breasts on full display to me… And the camera. I watched as she made up various poses, snapping numerous pictures. She even stared directly at me a few times as the flash had gone off. I’m definitely fucking her after we put this stuff up.

“You’re something else, y’know that?”

“And yet,” she crawled over to me, straddling me, chest now against mine as she hugged me tightly, “you absolutely adore it. Don’t you?”

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🀦 '✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

ᴀɴ; ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀꜱᴋꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ!! ̤̮

[typingatlightspeed]

Okay forgive me for being sappy here but I still can’t believe how lucky I was to be into tf2 now instead of like four years ago. Imagine coming across this awesome series and when you reach the bottom it just. Stops. It stopped and ended with red demo and blu Solly only sort of making up and the rest of the gang are just gone and you’ll never know what happened to them. And you leave the fandom eventually and wouldn’t ever know that BANG six years later you come back with vacation all I ever wanted and everything’s back again, you get to see these characters again and write and head canon and think up scenarios in bed for them again. And I didn’t even have to go through the six “weh this series is dead” years.

So yeah. I’m lucky I think

I felt like such a villain for years because of this, no longer able to write and screaming into the void about it. I lost my sex drive, my passion, and myself, all because of a cluster of unusual side effects of my medication (methylphenidate HCL, aka ritalin), which because they were such unusual side effects (literally the polar opposite of every common side effect) my doctor thought were hormonal issues related to my birth control for YEARS. Constant retooling and dialing in of those meds and completely ignoring that my ritalin was barely doing what it was supposed to do and doing everything to give me literal dysphoria because I was no longer the person I had been my entire fucking life. It was affecting my marriage a lot, too, making my husband doubt my attraction to him. It was hell.

When a friend of mine posted her experience starting ADHD meds after 40, and described how dramatic it was, like flicking a switch, I realized that my meds were not doing what they were supposed to do. So I talked to my doctor and suggested I go off of them, see where I'm at, and maybe try a different med from there. She was like hell yeah make sure you have a day or two off of work in case you feel like dogshit when you go off (I did lol). Two days later I wrote Ain't Seen Nothin' Yeti. The first fiction piece I'd written in six fucking years. I did a lot of crying.

I've rebounded so much, (a bit more than I was before in ways that make my husband very secure in his attractiveness lmao) and I've decided not to bother trying more meds. At least not right now. And since then it's been an explosion of the stories I've wanted to write for years but couldn't, and it feels so good.

The big thing is, though, during those years I stopped checking Ao3, because I felt so guilty that I was sure there were going to be bitter messages asking where I'd gone, why I hadn't updated, or worse, anger over it. So I didn't look. After I put out Ain't Seen Nothin' Yeti, I worked up my courage and checked my Ao3 inbox.

It was an outpouring of love, joy, laughter, and yes lamentations that there isn't more, that it stopped, but no anger, no bitterness, no blame, just oh man I hope someday there's more I love this so much.

And that meant the world to me. I did a lot of crying.

So yeah, you did get lucky. And so did I; that I could come back and keep writing and keep telling these stories. <3 I just hope that anyone who loved thes stories can find out that I'm back.