#wait does it count if he's a cat? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venomnyx · 3 months ago

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HOUSE IN NEBRASKA — Logan "Worst Wolverine" Howlett x Mutant!Reader AO3 version Spotify Playlist

WORD COUNT — 15.4k SUMMARY — Reader gets roped into saving the timeline with ex-best friend Deadpool, coming face-to-face with a variant of Logan that uproots memories she'd long suppressed, only to find that this version of him lost her in his universe, too. TAGS/WARNINGS — she/her pronouns (minimal usage), female anatomy, flashbacks in italics, angst, enemies to lovers, alcoholism, smoking, arguments, canon typical violence, cursing/bad language, Deadpool breaks the fourth wall like twice, canon behaviour worst wolverine, religious trauma, honda odyssey scene self-insert, eventual smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, dirty nasty talk (logan has a filthy mouth), mentions of cocaine literally once. smut is marked after last divider if you want to skip plot but i'll kiss you if you don't!

You’re smoking a cigarette on your porch when the snowfall happens. It would be normal, you think, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s dead in the middle of July. A group of nanas, elbow-deep in the community garden soil, glance up to the sky and begin muttering prayers amongst themselves.

You’ve lived in this safe house for a while now, up in the mid-west of the Appalachian mountains, surrounded by thickets of pine and opposite a bubbling creek. You grew up somewhere near here and the locals welcomed you back with open arms and a plateful of hot food when the humans started the culling— when the X-men fell apart.

It has plenty of benefits. The smell of lavender, for one, and your cat, Kevin, loves chasing the pigeons, even if he’s not the most successful hunter. The locally sourced produce means you can avoid the poisoned food they’re distributing in supermarkets.

But, most importantly, the humans can’t find you out here. You’re lucky the gossip of your… genetics, so to speak, doesn’t leave Sunday morning church.

Things have been different, lately. The trees are shedding down to dust, people are disappearing at an exponential rate, and there was a time when you’d be on the front lines helping them. You’re on the edge of your seat waiting for the call — a learned habit — but it’s never coming. Charles is dead. Logan is dead. The X-men are dead.

The snow is warm when it lands on your skin. It feels like rot, and your solitude suddenly feels lonelier and more daunting than ever.

You reach to take a sip of your steaming coffee when you hear movement. A zipping strobe light crosses your vision and you flinch against the intrusion, but you’re not afraid. You’ve surely survived worse.

Stryker worse.

A comical and confused looking figure pops out from an orange portal, scratching the crown of his head over the red and black mask on his face. You sip your coffee as you observe him nonchalantly.

He notices you and approaches with a dainty point of his finger.

“Um, excuse me, ma’am.”

“Well, well well,” you suck on your cigarette with a frown. “Look what the cat dragged in. Got a new suit, Red?”

“What, aren’t you happy to see lil’ old me?”

“You’re on my property,” you say matter-of-factually. You had a shotgun stowed away inside for emergencies, but frankly, you never had to use it. You were enough of a weapon yourself. Consider it insurance, if the corn-syrup they’re poisoning ever finally makes it way to you.

You glance sidelong at the old ladies in their aprons, clutching one another with stern gazes in your direction. The deal was that you didn’t bring trouble their way — but it looks like trouble found you. You narrow your eyes and silently hope that this doesn’t turn messy, as it so usually does where he’s concerned.

He sighs heavily and continues approaching regardless. You analyse his stature and take notes of the weapons on his holsters and back. You reckon you could take him if it came down to it, but he didn’t seem threatening.

You and Wade used to be friends, but after isolating yourself from grief, you don’t necessarily consider yourselves to have a close relationship. More often than not he brought trouble; hence your defensive response.

“Listen, ants in your pants, I’ve done this about a hundred times,” he huffs and places a hand on his hip, waving the device around in his hand. You take another drag of your cigarette and perk your brows before rising to your feet.

“I’ve had my spleen shattered by the Hulk, about eighty stab wounds…”

He rambles on about his collection of injuries and you tilt your head with amusement. Must be another one of his famous mental breakdowns. This might be entertaining, at the very least.

“…You’ve even killed me a few times in different universes!” He claps his hands together. “And frankly, I was just going to let you die here. You’re not even canon, so you won’t be missed, but you appear to be of use to me. So I need you to come with me. Now. Please.”

What on Earth was he talking about? What on Earth was he ever talking about?

You bark a laugh. “I ain’t going anywhere with you, Red and Black.”

“Will it change your mind if I add a cherry on top?” He asks with a dry laugh before nodding enthusiastically. Manically. “You’re coming. Kevin’s life depends on it.”

“What are you talkin’ about? Are you threatenin’ my cat? That’s a new low, Wade.”

“Is it? Is it really? I am certain that I can go unfathomably lower.”

You roll your eyes, half-way through turning your back on him.

“You see this?” He holds out a gloved hand and catches some snowflakes. He rubs them between his fingers and they spark and fizzle before dusting away. “That’s not snow. That’s time death. Our universe is dying, womp womp. Stay here, sure! By all means, but—”

Your cat launches out of the door behind you, chirping and meowing to himself before promptly dashing through the portal and disappearing into the blurry void on the other side.

“Well. Looks like he made his choice.”

He sighs and lets you process. You take the final swig of your coffee and huff a breath.

“You literally have nothing left to lose. Trust me. I know. I’ve seen all kinds of you and, believe me when I say this, even though I love and cherish this version of you, this—” he points two fingers at you and gestures towards you judgmentally. “— isn’t the best look on you, honey.”

You want to dismiss him. You want to turn him away, to tell him to get lost. Grief swallowed your heroism whole, turning it into a barren wasteland of bitter indifference. You used to be bright, full of light, love, and hope.

Fucking hope. It’s the reason Logan left you to help Charles in the first place. You just wanted to settle down and disappear, to live a normal life. You lost an intrinsic part of your being when he died; you remember feeling it before you heard the news. Fucking hope.

Hope, hope, hope. Nana Rose chants on about it when she clasps your hands with her wrinkly ones, dragging you to church in spite of your atheism.

“And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts,” she chants, basket of flowers on her hip. “Romans 5:5. You’d do well to do your readin’, tulip.”

You didn’t and don’t ever usually believe a word she says, but you can feel her faith. It’s solid as steel, pouring out of her like blotting light through the gaps in the trees. Undying. And you’ll be damned if you let anything happen to her.

A flicker remains. You imagine what Charles would say to you now, how you’d hang onto his every word and he’d bring out the better of you. You truly do have nothing left to lose, except maybe your cat. Over your dead body.

“Come ooon,” he pokes his fingers together. “Fancy being a hero? One last time?”

You take the final drag before stubbing the cigarette out on your railing. “Alright, Red. I’ll bite.”

“Then suit up.”

Your friendship with Deadpool was a rocky one. There was a time you told him you’d be there for him through everything, and you technically owed him one for saving your life that one time even though your ego insists that, to this day, you could’ve taken the fight. That’s what heightened cellular control of your body is for, right? Accelerated healing? Empathetic abilities? Faster reactions, enhanced strength— you get the point.

Though you didn’t realise that returning the favour meant following him through space, time and alternate dimensions, you were a person who stayed true to their word, and you hated being indebted to someone.

So, here you were, waking up in the middle of a barren wasteland that was seconded as a cocktail soup of abandoned universal relics and heroes ripped from their worlds, accompanying your ex-best friend to restore your timeline.

But, one thing about paying someone back, it doesn’t technically count if they lie to you about the terms and conditions of the agreement. Only a few mere moments after you come to, dazed by the impact and the blaring wobbly heat of the sun, you rise to watch as Deadpool takes six blades of Wolverine to the chest.

You’re still a little dizzy when you stagger to your feet, head throbbing, as you’re trying to process if, yes, that’s exactly what you were witnessing.

“Let’s see you grow your fuckin’ head back!” Wolverine growls.

Deadpool holds his hands up in surrender. “Wait, wait, wait! I can fix it! I can fix it!”

The man in yellow hesitates. “Fix what?”

“Whatever it is that you did, whatever made you so bad—” Wade pants, catching his breath. “Those pricks at the TVA, you heard ‘em. They have the power to end my universe, but they also have the power to change yours. We get back there, and we can fix your world! Together. I promise.”

You stumble from around a pile of debris, clutching your side as a rib pops back into place. Wolverine sniffs the air, face blanching as he snaps to look in your direction.

When you first make eye contact with him, it feels as though you’re resurfacing from water after being on the precipice of drowning. Your heart leaps into your throat, adrenaline boils your veins and your lungs burst with relief of breathing.

“Troubles always gonna find you, baby,” Logan murmurs, kissing his way up from the pulse in your throat as he rocks against you. “But so am I.”

You’ve never loved him more, you think, than when he fucks you slow like this. A snowstorm rages outside the cabin, howling full of glass and needles and rattling the window frames. His skin against yours burns a fire within you, warming you to the bone. He sweeps hair away from your face before capturing your mouth in his, swallowing the sounds of your pants, threading his fingers between yours.

You could stay here forever, you think.

Your fingers shake from the whiplash of the memory. You instinctively reach towards him but you catch yourself. This was the husk of him, not your Logan. The realisation feels akin to ripping open a haphazardly sewn wound right down to the fatty yellow flesh, raw and needling and sore.

He’s broader than you remember. Hair a little darker, wrinkles a little deeper. He smells of alcohol and cigars — that much is familiar. That’s him, flesh and adamantium bone, living, breathing. Alive. The physical shell of him prods alive parts of your inner circuitry that you weren’t aware had fallen asleep, like intrinsic nerves untangling within you.

You can sense that he knows you, too, based on his emotional response. His noise is extremely loud, spilling out of the cracks of whatever wall he thought he’d successfully built up. This version of Logan certainly had a lot of secrets.

“You,” he whisper-growls. It’s almost intangible, leaving him like a breath. He pulls his blades promptly from Deadpool’s chest and kicks him backwards.

You’re starting to understand that faith thing that Nana Rose was knocking on about when he strides towards you, large and tall. You certainly weren’t a believer by any means but you’re sure you’d be the picture of unbridled worship for the way you’d fall to your knees for him.

Your empathetic power lurches for him, seeking him out as you used to — like a flower to the sun — but it physically recoils from the aura that it touches. It was all your Logan but not in a familiar way. It’s tainted, dark, and it tastes like copper and screams.

All colour melts from his face and his body shuffles in a way that indicates discomfort; a dry swallow, tense shoulders and flicking eyes that refuse to meet your gaze. He omits feelings of guilt and shame that linger on the tendrils of your empathetic powers where you connect with him.

You try to zone Wade out, squinting as you attempt to navigate through his cobweb of emotions (seriously, this guy’s aura could do with a cleanup) but it’s like wading through black-tar syrup, feelings negated by years of alcohol-abuse and avoidance. Eventually, you feel something that makes your guts twist and your legs shake: a version of romantic attraction and recognition so carnal and raw that you begin to blush, a warmth that creeps its way up from your belly. A breath escapes you like a punch.

“Well. This feels awkward.” Wade glances between you both and places his hands on his hips. “Why do you both look like you’ve seen a ghost? Do I need to call Egon Splegler and tell him to bring his ghost sucky-sucky vacuum? Oh my god—” He slaps his hands to his face and gasps sharply. “Cross-Universal lovers?”

As inappropriately timed and tone-deaf his one-liners could be, you’d never been more appreciative of an icebreaker. You think you could’ve stood there for an hour, frozen in silence, staring at a reanimated corpse, basking in the noise of his emotional frequency like an addict finally getting another hit.

But then the noise stops, swallowed up like a heaving black hole had split and atomised the tension whole with its unforgiving jaws. He closes himself off from you. Connection severed. You reach out and feel a cold nothingness similar to how, on particularly rough nights, you’d try to reach out to him after his passing. You’d clung onto his plaid shirts until the smell and emotional residue wore off of them.

“You with the mouth? To fix things?”

You nod tightly. You don’t think you can find your voice in front of him.

“Let’s just keep moving. And stay out of my head,” Logan grumbles, crossing you with a cold shoulder and mumbling something incoherent under his breath. When he’s made enough distance, you turn to your old friend with a cold glare.

“Ooh, brr. Anybody else feel a chill?”

“Wade.”

He twists towards you comically slow.

“You. Motherfucker.” You begin approaching him. He backs up slowly and holds his hands up.

“I knew if I told you the plan you wouldn’t have gone along with it!”

“Are you insane? You think multiversally grave-robbing my fucking dead ex-boyfriend is going to save our timelines?!” You yell.

“Technically he’s not dead—”

You push him. “He should be! He- he was— he is!”

“Well, this one isn’t!” He pushes back. “And I’m not sorry for finding a loophole in the plan to fry — not just mine, mind you — but both of our timelines! Did you happen to forget that? No multi-dimensional depressed Logan? Alright then! No more Kevin!”

He’s talking about your cat. Anger flares.

“Don’t you dare bring Kevin into this.”

“You forced my hand!” He yells, mouth moving alien-like behind the mask on his face. “Besides, I’m not doing this for me—”

You blink your eyes closed. You might reach the end of your tether if he said her name one more time. You’ve been in his company for approximately an hour, and he’s already drilled a hole into your brain with his incessant yapping about the “love of his life”.

“Wade, you need to move on. She clearly has.”

“I will not move on from the only people I love in this fucked up dimension. This isn’t just for Vanessa.” He shoves a glossy photograph in your face. “This is for you and blind Al and even that shit-head teenager and her pinkie-pie girlfriend! They deserve their timeline!”

“I literally don’t care about any of those people!”

Even yourself?

“Well, I do! I have people I care about! Aren’t you supposed to be a hero? God, all of you X-men are so depressing. Is it the suits they make you wear? Is that it? Can’t breathe in that thing?” He continues poking at you. “Loosen up a little!”

You straighten your posture and the black leather of your suit crackles. You swat his hands away as he continues poking. “Alright! Cut it out!”

“Think of Nana Rose.” He draws a heart with two fingers. “Little old ladies like her deserve a chance, don’t they?”

And even though humans had done nothing but wage war on your kind for simply existing, you still felt obliged to help them. Besides, the thought of other mutants — kid mutants — dying when you hold the chance to save them in the palm of your hand? You were hardly managing as you were now. You’re not sure you’d be able to live with yourself if you kept going like this.

“Alright, alright!” You huff, heart pounding in your chest. You look over at where Wolverine kicks at rocks in the distance. “Fucking hell, Red. Holy fuck.”

You say it again, only this time you scream it into your hands.

“You should’ve warned me.”

“Are we good?”

“Are we go—” You scoff. You kick his ankle, feel the bones shatter and crunch beneath your foot. He lets out a short, high-pitched yelp. “You deserved that.”

“Motherfuckermotherfucker… oh you’re lucky I feel bad about lying to you or I would’ve twisted your milk bags off for that I swear to God.” He sucks in a breath. “I’ll allow it. Just this once.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, walking forward. “That doesn’t sound like an apology.”

He limps after you, floppy ankle dragging a line in the sandy dirt. “I’ll be dead before you ever get one of those out of me! And too bad I can’t fucking die!”

The difference between this Logan and your Logan is stark, minus the uncanny resemblance. Your Logan was soft and gentle, but this version is sharper and blade-edged, and your fingers bleed when you try to touch him.

Staring at him feels like throwing up a mirror and analysing yourself, a picture of what happens to a person when they make all of the wrong choices. You’re embarrassed, almost. This isn’t a version of you that you ever want him to know, but at least you can say you’re trying.

Him, on the other hand…

“Are we going to keep up the awkward silence?” You snip, awkwardly adjusting the restraints on your wrist.

You’ve been in Logan’s company for all of an hour, and yet accompanying one another through literal time purgatory didn’t seem to irk any feelings of obligation from his end. He’d been cold-shouldering and ignoring you the entire time, even though you kept catching him staring.

“I have nothing to say to you,” he spits, wriggling uncomfortably against a very unconscious Deadpool. “You got us into this mess.”

You frown, small. You can feel hatred pouring out from him, leaving a sickly bile taste in the back of your throat. You’ve lived through enough hate for being a mutant in your lifetime, enough that you’d become accustomed to tuning it out of your radio channel, so to speak, but something about it coming from the man you loved makes it a little harder to swallow.

You’re quiet when you next speak. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

He shoots you an indistinguishable look and grunts to himself. Such a Libra.

“So, what’s the story here?” Johnny asks with a sly grin. He turns to you with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. “You two know each other?”

You cringe. “Sort of. Last I remember, he wasn’t this much of a prick.”

“Oh, trouble in paradise, huh?” His grin grows. “That’s a shame. Not often we get girls like you in the void.”

“Seriously?” You say with a side-eye.

He shrugs, all blue-spandex biceps and charming smile. “No harm in trying.”

Your breath hitches as Cassandra approaches, wide eyes and tilted head aiming for you purposefully. Logan swiftly angles his body so that he’s standing in front of you and she halts as a delighted, implicating smile stretches across her face. Your chest constricts, tendrils of yearning coiling tighter. It appeared to be muscle memory: his instinctual, protective flinch. Just like your Logan used to, despite how capable he knew you were.

“Now, I’ve always wanted a Wolverine.” Her finger moves along the crowd. “Knew I’d get one eventually. But I never even dreamed of having you.”

Cassandra zips behind you and her slender fingers delve into the crevices and valleys of your brain, lips intimately close to your neck and ear. Wolverine snarls territoriality, but he’s unable to move. The urge to reach for him is overwhelming.

“Do you know that there are so few universes where you exist?” She whispers, caressing your deepest memories. “I even asked the TVA about you, in exchange for keeping the peace. I was disheartened when I found out one of you died. But you’re here! Now, I don’t believe in fate, but this almost feels like it was meant to be.”

You flinch when she uncovers a particularly fond memory, one you hadn’t been aware was so prominently in the forefront.

In the back of his truck, a cigar between his teeth, hands sliding under your shirt. In another world, he would’ve taken the time to do this properly, but living in a school didn’t exactly grant two consenting adults any privacy.

“Waited long enough for this.”

He kisses up from your bare foot to the sensitive skin of your inner knee, lips scorching against your skin.

“Logan…”

“Easy,” he murmurs, leaning away for a moment to remove his plaid overshirt, leaving himself in that white vest you could eat him alive in. “Still wanna take my time with you.”

You’re desperate, he can tell— can probably smell it, too, but you’re far too humiliated to ask him if he can.

Logan wasn’t your first by any means, but with the way you were near trembling for him truly felt like you’d be losing all of your innocence in the back seat. You’re shy and quiet, everything he isn’t. You’re infatuated with him — have been since he burst out of the lab in his grey hoodie — and have daydreamed about what it would be like to have him. You certainly didn’t let him know that right away, and with whatever shred of composure remained around his relentless flirting and teasing remarks, you tried to play hard to get.

Until you couldn’t. Because you weren’t. He had you, and with every fibre of your being, you wanted him to.

She pulls her hands from your brain with a shlick sound, rubbing her fingers together as if relishing in the produce of your memories. She grabs a rag from her pocket and smirks knowingly.

“You’re thinking of that at a time like this?” She laughs all witch-like. “Worry not; your secret’s safe with me, naughty girl.”

Wade lowers his voice and leans towards Logan. “She was thinking of me.”

“I can read between the lines, darling,” she potters on. “This isn’t about a sexual fantasy. Deep down, you just want to be wanted. To be loved.”

She steps back and extends her arms. “After all, you’ll never amount to anything in your world. It’s such a shame that your Logan left you so abruptly. Did he break your heart?” She giggles. “Why suppress your powers in his name? For a level-five mutant, you certainly don’t act like one. You can do that, here. Freely!”

Your worn thin tether creaks with exhaustion like a dilapidated bridge under pressure. There isn’t a singular fibre of your being that desires to be stuck here, but the small, angry teenage voice in your head would love nothing more than to just let go. You’d been containing your powers for as far as you can remember, and they'd always been as irresistible as the promise of Pandora's box.

But you know how that story ends.

You take a moment’s pause. “I have no interest in livin’ in a garbage dump.”

She tilts her head and neatly clasps her hands behind her back. “Do you forget where you come from? I think we both know who lives in a garbage dump.”

“You motherf—”

You’d just managed to escape Cassandra’s lair with Alioth’s foggy storm fangs nipping at your ankles when you ran across the abandoned diner.

You’re ravenous, wrist aching from how you dig at the freezer-burned ice cream. It’s your least favourite flavour but you’ve been running on fumes for the past day or so, so you’ll take what you can get, though you begin to lose your appetite when you remember Johnny, and how Cassandra had zipped the skin from him like popping a blood-filled water balloon.

Something is rumbling beneath your surface. A distinct, constant buzzing, like two atoms slowly building up radioactive energy. You’d asked for none of this, and would certainly give Wade a talking to when the time called for it, but, for now, you’re trying your hardest to make this as easy a process as possible.

Your male counterpart, however, was doing exactly what men generally do. He was making this fucking unbearable.

Logan sits across from you, brooding, fingers gripping the medicinal bottle as if it’s anywhere near appropriate to be drinking. He throws you a particularly lingering glare when he notices you staring, but refuses to maintain eye contact when you look back at him

You toss the tub and spoon across the table with a sharp clatter, your patience collapsing.

“What? Can’t even look at me?” You snap. His eyes look exhausted when they finally meet yours. Wade, being the characteristic little fucker he is, pulls a delighted, shit-stirring grin as he glances between the two of you as if watching a tennis match.

Logan gasps as he finishes taking a drink. “Not much to look at,” he says, wiping the back of his mouth.

The words twist like a fist in your gut. For a moment, you’re rendered too stunned to respond, like he’d tossed a flash-bang toward you. His casual cruelty digs deeper than you care to admit— but you’ve had far too much therapy, too much psychological training, to know he’s deflecting.

But you wouldn’t doubt for a second that there was a more beautiful version of you somewhere.

“What, you comparin’ me to someone?” You ask. You can tell you’ve struck a nerve by the way he goes for another sip. “That it?”

He grimaces.

“Do I make you feel sick? Am I making you feel sick?”

He stares at you hard, but silently. He takes a long swig of the rubbing alcohol and you cringe as his throat bobs. His silence and feigned indifference light a fire of indignation.

“You know, you’re not the only person who’s suffered. Who’s lost people.”

He laughs like what you’re saying is funny. “Yeah, right, bub, you have got no idea what loss is.”

“Oh, you are such a fucking cunt,” you spit, slamming your hands on the table as you rise to your feet. “You know what, Wade? You’re right. I can’t do this. So fuck you and fuck his timeline and fuck every timeline that had anything to do with it! I’m done.”

A wave of uncontrolled psionic energy born from your anger blasts from you upon your final words, slamming them back into their seats and sending the cutlery, nearby debris and weapons flying. The neighbouring windows smash, shattering explosively and sprinkling outside of the diner.

The simmering stops, replaced by a stifling emptiness.

“I wasn’t finished with that!” Wade cries, crouching down to scoop up what remains of the gelatinous spam.

You pause for a moment, glance at your hands, and then grab your jacket in an aggressive fit.

Wade whines your name, halfway through gagging down a forkful of cold spam off of the floor (one of which resonates with a particularly distinct crunch, but you don’t stay to find out whether or not he just truly ate glass), and he doesn’t attempt to get up and follow you as you storm off.

You take a heaving breath of hot desert air when you leave the diner. The sandy breeze tousles your hair, and with the prickly energy of an incoming nervous breakdown, your legs kick and you’re running.

“Stryker got you, too?” Logan asks, eyebrows flicking up.

You don’t look him in the eye when you nod. You cross your arms and slouch a little, caging your heart in. Stryker — the ex-militant with a fetish for experimenting on mutants — had held you captive for several years. He’d brainwashed you into using your empathetic abilities for nefarious purposes, like seducing other mutants, and sometimes important political and militant figures.

“You like me?” He questions, quieter this time.

“No… no, not like you,” you reply. “I don’t have the fancy bones. I heal fast, but I wouldn’t survive that kinda procedure.”

“Ah.”

“I don’t remember everything. Just bits and pieces. Feelings, mostly. Nightmares,” you explain. He nods understandingly. “I’m always on edge.”

“You always seem so calm,” he observes. “Nothing seems to phase you.”

“I have to be. It took a lot of pain and damage to get this level-headed,” you respond quickly. “If I don’t manage my emotions, all the emotions that I receive, touch— it all comes out. Explosively. It has to come out somehow. I could hurt people.”

“Funny. School therapist ‘n’ you’ve got the most issues,” he teases light-heartedly.

“You got no idea, lumberjack.”

You hated killing.

You’re on your knees, arms and hands and chest soaked crimson, sobbing. They’d come out of nowhere, the raiders, and they were hungry for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. All you know is that you felt their need, their desperation, their willingness to do anything to get it.

The flash of harrowing horror someone feels before they die isn’t a unique experience. It simply varies in strength — sometimes it’s a feather-like touch that careens over you, a shuddering realisation that they’re taking their last breath, and sometimes it’s like a crack of lightning. Bloodied hands gripping your biceps with fear in a final attempt to survive. They’d rather cling to you than die alone.

You hate killing. Especially this up close.

You don’t cry for them. You don’t even cry for yourself. It’s a small emotional space where they cry vicariously through you.

You were black-out when it happened, you tell yourself, and suddenly regress to the student you used to be, sobbing on your knees in front of Charles as he tries to teach you serenity and control after an outburst had caused you to kill a nest of birds. He’d done it for Magneto, he said— so he could certainly do it for you.

You should have meditated more.

The sound of a car gurgles somewhere behind you, but you haven’t the energy to look or use your powers to seek out who’s approaching and what their intent is. You’re exhausted enough that whatever they wish to do with you — turn you to processed dog kibble, send you back into the jaws of Cassandra’s lair, kill you — whatever. Just let it happen.

A slamming car door and then the crunching of boots on gravel.

“You’re easy to track.” A pause. “You look pathetic. You done throwing your tantrum?”

Logan. Of course, it’s him.

“Leave me alone, prick.”

“As much as I’d like to, you and the Mouth still have to hold up your end of the bargain,” he quips, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Now get up.”

You glare up at him and his arms unfurl as he notices your tear-streaked face. His expression drops, softens, before it quickly ticks back up into an incredulous, irritated look.

“Are you crying?” He asks with a scoff. He pauses before dragging his hand down his face and rubbing his scruffy jaw. “Jesus Christ. Get up. Get in the car.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ around, Logan. Piss. Off.”

He mumbles a string of incoherent curses and turns on his heel. You think, for a moment and a breath of relief, that he’s truly going to give up on you and leave. He could finish this without you. It’s easier this way.

Instead, a thick bicep wraps around your middle and you’re flung over his shoulder with a yelp.

“Quit your squirmin’.”

“Then put me down!” You yell, thrashing in his grasp. He promptly ignores you, unphased by the jabs you strike at his back. You quickly unsheath the small knife from your jacket sleeve, winding up your arm before you drive it into the muscly pocket by his kidneys.

“Ow! Cheap shot, you little fucker!”

Wade sighs and clutches his hands in front of his chest romantically. “Oh, the newlyweds.”

Logan dumps you into the front seat of the car carelessly, grumbling something as he slams the door shut and applies the child locks. Petty motherfucker.

You rub the sore spot on your tailbone where you landed on a seat buckle funny. You want to bite your tongue but you’re flared up.

“We should switch places. I’m a better driver than you are.”

Logan doesn’t bother looking at you as he starts up the ignition. “Just shut up.”

“You can go on ahead and smoke a cat turd in hell, then.”

“So fuckin’ immature. Grow up.”

“Mom and Dad can you please stop fighting!” Deadpool cries out from the backseats.

You just roll your eyes, resigning into your chair and folding your arms.

At some point along the ride, Wade falls asleep, snoring soundly to himself. You’re silent in the front, drumming a beat on your knees, awkwardly thinking of something to say. You have the impulsive need to fill the silence, even if you were trapped in a crappy car with a man who had made it vehemently clear that he irrevocably hated you.

“So, if they can fix your world, what’s the first thing you’ll do?”

Logan rips his eyes towards you. “What did you say?”

“I said when you get back, what’s the first thing—”

“No, no, no— before that.”

You hesitate, wondering if you’d landed yourself in a trap based on the sharpness of his tone and the way that anger crackles off of him like static lightning.

“If… they can fix your world?”

He slams his foot on the brake and you just about catch yourself before your nose goes flying into the dashboard. Wade is thrust out of the front window, smashing through and promptly falling unconscious underneath a tree, neck broken at an awkward angle.

Your eyes widen.

“What do you mean: if?”

“That’s what Wade said—”

“I don’t give a fuck who said what. He promised me he would fix things—”

“Well, I didn’t promise you shit!”

He laughs, low and devoid of humour. “You don’t have a clue if they can fix things, do you?”

Well, no. You’ve been operating on a hunch the entire time and had half come to accept that you might be stuck in the TVA void forever. Who knows how much time has passed elsewhere?

Regardless of the fact you truly had nothing to do with whatever came out of Wade’s mouth, you weren’t about to let Mr. Worst Wolverine shit all over him and his plan to save his friends.

“Is it really that far-fetched? We made an educated wish!”

Something dark flashes across his face. You can feel hate pulsing off of him in dizzying waves, doubling with each passing moment.

“You made… an educated fucking wish?”

“What’s your problem with me, huh? Got a stick up your ass?” You reach for the car door handle, but he snaps up your wrist, holding it high. “You better let go of me right now, old man—”

“Or what, huh? Gonna run away again?” He threatens.

“You geriatric, alcoholic motherfucker. I’ve done nothin’ but try and be civil with you and you treat me like I’m the one who ruined your life! I don’t know what version of me you knew but you need to stop actin’ like I ain’t worthy of being here because of what you did!”

“Listen, I’ll tell you what my problem is with you—” he leans closer, eyes roving over you with a disgusted look on his face. “I mean, you are a ridiculous, emotional, immature crybaby. I have never met a sadder, more attention-seeking, foul-mouthed little bitch in my entire life and that says a lot because I’ve been alive for more than two hundred fuckin’ years.”

“And I’ll tell you, that bald chick was right about one thing: you will never amount to anything. You’ll never save the world. You couldn’t even save a relationship with me. I’d say you should’ve died alone but it’s one of God’s best jokes that in this universe you didn’t seem to fuckin’ die, except that ones on the rest of all of us!”

He breathes heavily when his rant finishes. You’re taken aback, jaw slack, eyes warm with the onset of tears born from shock.

“What, you got nothin’ to say, empath?”

You suck in a deep breath, blinking slowly as you flick the emotional switch off in your head.

“I’m going to hurt you now.”

He snorts. “Oh, are you?”

In a swift manoeuvre, you raise your slap him around the face. You knew better than to punch a metal skull, but you still wanted him to sting. His eyes slit, nostrils flaring in challenge.

“That all you got?”

“Not even close,” you snap back, knuckles whitening from the way you curl your fingers into your palm. “You want to play this game, Logan? Fine— but I’m not gonna sit here and keep on provin’ myself to you. I’ve had enough of your Christ-born-again superiority complex. Did you forget that you’re the worst Wolverine?”

“Oh, yeah? Well, at least I’m honest about who I am. Look at you— you’re a fuckin’ joke, pretending to be some hero in a suit made for a dead team,” he barks back, voice rising with each word. “I don’t need your bullshit “wishes”— you should know, I’ve buried people for less.”

“Yeah, because you’re so perfect, ain’t that right?” You yell, voice cracking from the power of your anger. “The almighty Wolverine— the unkillable bastard who can’t seem to hold onto anythin’ good in his life! You’ve had centuries to get your shit together, and look at you—” You look him up and down with disgust. “—still just a bitter, lonely, broken man, takin’ it out on everyone else and a goddamn bottle.”

His eyes narrow, muscles in his jaw twitching as he appears to fight and keep his temper in check, but there’s an obvious crack forming, the dam of his unbridled rage near overflowing.

“You think you know me, huh?” He murmurs, voice a deadly whisper, the calm before the storm. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about what I’ve been through. You’re nothing but a lost woman playing make-believe and hiding in the shadow of a fuckin’ merc. You’re pathetic.”

Something inside of you breaks. “I’m pathetic? Look at yourself! You’re so goddamn desperate to feel anythin’ that you’ll lash out at everyone around you for some semblance of warmth. There’s a fine line between hate and love, after all! You think you’re so strong because you can heal, because you’ve lived forever? Yeah, right— you’re the weakest, most cowardly man I’ve met in a loong time.”

The blades between his knuckles shoot out with a shink! For a moment, you think that he’s going to attack you. Hell— you even hope that he will, just to diminish some of the unbearable, stifling tension. Instead, the blades retract with a deep breath, and he grabs you forcefully by the collar of your suit, yanking you so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

His voice is low and rough, each word dripping with venom. “Go on, keep psychoanalysing me. You wanna talk about cowardice? How about leaving people who need you, just because it’s easier to run? Better yet, how about the fact that you abandoned the X-men to hide away in the mountains, huh?”

Your eyes widen with recognition.

“Yeah… Wade’s got a big mouth. Told me everythin’. You’re no hero. Hell, you’re just a selfish, reckless hillbilly who failed at pretending to be human.”

Your heart palpitates in your chest, each word coiling and slicing like blades in your intestines, but you refuse to let him see how much it hurts. Instead, your lips curl into a cold, bitter smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And you’re just a sad, angry old man who can’t handle the fact that he’s lost everythin’. Go ahead: keep pushing people away! Keep hidin’ behind that anger o’ yours! It’s got you this far, ain’t it?! I’ve treated kids with trauma worth double yours and they were nothin’ but kind and selfless. I won’t let you project your failures onto me. I’m done with this.”

“Yeah, why don’t you walk away!”

The argument reaches a fever pitch, tension sizzling in the air between you. You’re so close, glaring at each other with so much anger, so much resonating heat, that it feels like something’s going to break. And then, suddenly, it does.

Before either of you can think, you close the gap between you, lips crashing against his. It’s not gentle, it’s not soft— the kiss is rough, violent, a clash of lips and fury. His grip on your collar tightens, and for a moment, you’re both frozen, caught in the shock of what’s happening.

But then something more fiery in nature than anger ignites, and he kisses you back just as fiercely, and maybe a little more desperate— like he’s trying to pour out all of his pain and resentment, into this one moment. Your tongues slide against each other and his teeth catch against yours as he groans into your mouth. Your hands thread through his hair, yanking him closer as if trying to hold onto something real and tangible in the chaos of the kiss, reeling from the sudden spinning in your head. It’s angry, raw, filled with all the things you’re not capable of verbalising: grief, love, yearning, reconciliation.

The result of a painful reunion.

The world falls away and all that’s left is the taste of him, the feel of his lips against yours, rough and demanding. You hate him right now— hate him so much that you can’t help but want him. The sheer intensity of it all overwhelms you and makes your fingers shake against the nape of his neck, but you can’t pull away— not now, not when you’ve tasted the wine. You’re too far gone, caught up in the storm of his intoxication, fantasising about ripping that yellow and blue suit off of him and riding him until there’s nothing left for him to regenerate.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the bubble of the moment bursts with the sound of slow clapping coming from outside the car. You jerk back from Logan, breath coming in ragged gasps. Logan is equally as stunned, still tight-gripping your collar as if he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands.

You both see Wade sitting up, hands together, eyes wide as saucers as he takes in the scene.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did I just wake up in a telenovela?” His voice is laced with amusement. “I mean, I know you two clearly had some unresolved sexual tension— but this? Oh, this is gold. Please don’t stop on my account, just let me get the camcorder first!”

You’re too stun-locked to respond, lips parting and closing as your brain scrambles to formulate a response as you’re still reeling from what just happened. Logan (for once) seems equally as lost for words, his typical scowl replaced with a look of confusion.

“Shut up, Mouth,” Logan barks, but there’s no real heat behind it. There can’t be, really, not when you’ve both been caught red-handed. He releases your collar at once.

Wade, however, is having none of it. “Oh, no, no, no! You don’t just get to brush this off like it’s nothing! That was a full-on makeout session! I only interrupted because I thought you were about to rip each other’s clothes off.” He sighs wistfully and crosses his legs. “Here I was thinking that you two hated each other— but I guess all that anger was just foreplay, huh?”

Your face burns with a mixture of shame and something else you’re not quite ready to admit. “Wade— cut it out.”

He grins, not deterred in the least. “Oh, but I’m loving this. All that pent-up aggression finally coming to fruition. It’s beautiful, truly.”

Logan shoots him a look that could melt iron, but Wade just simply shrugs, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. Everyone being me.”

“Wade,” you warn through gritted teeth.

“Well, unless you want me to watch (which I am not opposed to, by the way) maybe next time the two of you should get a room,” he tilts his head. “Or, you know, a couples therapist.”

He then turns to address Logan directly.

“And I must’ve missed the AO3 tags because I did not peg you for the enemies-to-lovers type, Mister. Who knew all it took was a bit of hate-kissing to get the sparks flying? Don’t look so ashamed! I’m just jealous I didn’t get to you first.”

He stumbles towards the car and collapses into the back seat. “Next time you wanna bump uglies, just ask for some privacy! You can save me the broken neck!” He gets himself comfortable, man-spreading and laying his hands on both of your shoulders as you stare dead-forwards, unable to look at each other.

“Gosh, you’re both so tense.” He begins massaging. “Look— props to you both for not letting all that angst go to waste. This is a safe space, and there’s no shame in a little hormone-induced—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Logan interrupts, revving the car back to life and shoving his prodding hands away. “Just be quiet back there.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep the commentary to myself. But just so you know— got that bad boy playing on repeat, right here.” He says, tapping the side of his head.

You bury your face in your hands. This was going to be a long car ride.

As the car starts moving again, you muster the bravery to risk a glance at Logan. His expression is hard to read but his energy thrums with uncertainty. The boiling hatred seems to have dialled down to a gentle simmer, mostly redirected towards himself rather than you. There’s something else— something that wasn’t there before. You rip your eyes away quickly, mind racing.

For somebody so in tune with emotions and the literal ability to manipulate them if you so desired, you were horrendous at navigating your own. You don’t know what this kiss meant, or if it even meant anything at all.

If there’s anyone you didn’t expect to come across in the void, it’s X-23— Laura. She’s taller, now, with hair down her back, but she’s still got that stern, mean look on her face that intimidated you the first time you met her.

The weak front door squeaks when you open it a crack. A girl, maybe in her small teen years, blinks up at you.

“Can I help you?” You ask, wiping your flour-dusty hands down on the front of your cooking apron.

“Are you—” she says your name.

You attempt to swing the door shut, but she jams it with her boot. You flick your eyes up, glance around for any signs of threats, and then lower your gaze to her. You wrap your cardigan around your mid-section.

“I don’t go by that name anymore. Who the Hell are you, kid, and what do you want?”

“I’m here about Logan,” she says, matter-of-factly.

Logan. A name followed by your own, both of which you hadn’t heard in years.

“He’s not here, kid. He died years ago.”

“I know,” she answers, unwavering. “I was there when it happened. Your name was the last thing he said.”

You’d let her in for a glass of sugary sweet tea that day, but once stories were exchanged you told her not to come back. She respected your wishes— she said she simply wanted to put a name to the face, to get closure, but you’d felt her desperation. Perhaps she was seeking out respite, or family, but you were in no position to be sharing your space with someone who could put another target on your back.

After introductions were made with the others who had been ripped from their timelines (Elektra, Blade and oh my god a Gambit variant with muscles so huge he could pop your head between his biceps) you excused yourself to sit outside. The buzzing emotional energy made your collar feel a little tight around the neck, your head a little fuzzy with noise, so you decided to reignite the small campfire a few yards away from the safe-house and rest there, instead.

You hadn’t realised you were being followed.

“It’s not safe here.”

“It’s not safe anywhere, Logan.”

He looks defeated, raising and clasping his hands behind his head.

“I gotta leave, baby.”

“If you leave, I ain’t lettin’ you back,” you whisper. “You don’t heal the same anymore, Logan, and you promised me—”

“I know what I promised,” he rebuts, but not angrily. You can already see on his face that he’s made his choice. He’s not coming to you to discuss it. “But I owe it to him. To Charles. He gave me everything.”

“So then what did I give you?” You ask. “Not a home, not my love, not everything?” You slam the tea towel down and turn away from him as the tears form. He’s quiet, perhaps processing everything, but you’re too impatient.

“If you’re just gon’ get up and leave, do it now. I won’t beg you to stay, Jimmy.”

“I love you.”

You don’t say it back.

You wake up with a start, damp clinging to your forehead. You immediately sense another presence and glance over to see Logan watching you with a steady gaze. His expression is soft and almost reverent at first, but his facade hardens with a quick tick of his jaw.

“You talk in your sleep.” The bottle in his hand sloshes as he takes a drink. “Nightmare?”

You sigh frustratedly when you realise it’s him. Of course, it’s him — his energy reeks of whiskey and self-loathing. You prop yourself on your elbows, massaging the sore spots on your temples where sleep fog forms.

“I can’t even get some rest without you botherin’ me? You’re leakin’ self-hatred everywhere.”

“Quit hogging the fire then.”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, but it’s without bite.

A moment passes before he fills the silence again. “What are you even doing out here, alone? Trying to get yourself killed? Pretty stupid.”

“Do you know how hard it is to sleep when nobody shuts up?”

His brows knit. “They’re all dead asleep.”

His hand runs up and down your back.

“Can’t settle?” He asks after you sigh.

“No.” You turn so you’re lying on your back, shoulder touching his, staring up at the ceiling. “Everyone is feeling so loud. It’s like a frequency I can’t turn off.”

He hums. “They’re grieving, I s’pose.”

“Even you and you always said you hated the guy.” You shuffle to lie on your side, facing him. You place a hand on his bare chest. “I can feel it, you know.”

“I didn’t hate Scott. Just found him… obnoxiously irritating.”

“Tough guy.” You giggle and stroke his cheek. “You’re turnin’ soft, old man.”

He pulls you flush against him and presses a kiss to your hairline. You lay in verbal silence for a while, soaking up his presence (god, you were so in love), but you’re interrupted when he abruptly sits up and grabs the white vest he discarded somewhere near the bed.

You lean on your elbows. “Where you goin’?”

“Let’s go for a ride.”

“What?”

“You can’t sleep here. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“But Charles said—”

“Screw Charles. You comin’ or what?”

He hadn’t told you he loved you yet, but at that moment you felt it.

And so you do, clinging to his mid-section on his motorcycle, head stuffed into the helmet he affectionately forces you to wear. It’s a warm night in New York, soupy with heat, but the further you get away from the compound with him by your side the more you feel you can breathe.

“’Course, you don’t understand.”

You reach for the small pouch on your hip and retrieve a cigarette. You light it between your lips, taking a seat a few paces away from him, hands still shaking a little with the aftershocks of the night terror.

“Since when did you start smoking?”

You perk a brow. “I’ve always smoked.”

He seems to realise something and simply shakes his head before returning to the vice in his fist.

“Right.”

You stare at him for a long, passing moment, before pulling out your lighter again and offering it towards him. He perks a brow.

“I know you got a cigar in there somewhere,” you say. He pauses, sighs, and then retrieves a thick cigar from one of the pouches on his suit. You lean closer, flick the lighter, and cup your hand to protect it from the breeze, shamelessly glancing at the dancing glow that bathes his face amid the firelight. You feel the urge to kiss him again, and when his eyes flick up to yours, you think for the briefest second that he wants to kiss you, too.

Swallowing, you collapse your lighter and clear your throat. You sit quietly, smoking and drinking in a silence only negated by the distant sound of chittering bugs around you. Once you’re finished with your cigarette, you toss the butt into the fire.

“We’re infiltrating tomorrow morning.”

He laughs dryly. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Your lips tighten into a thin line. “We won’t make it without you.”

“Sure you will. I’m not him, you know,” Wolverine grumbles, slugging another shot of alcohol.

You scrutinise him from across the log. You wonder if he feels as pathetic as he looks.

“No— you got that right,” you answer. You pry the liquor from his hands but the grip he releases from the neck of the bottle must have been a mercy on his part because you knew he was extraordinarily stronger than you. “He was much braver than you.”

His eyes flicker from the flames to you as you take a long swig.

“Although probably just as stupid.”

A pause. Crackling and popping firewood fills the silence.

“But, he was a hero. And so are you.”

A beat before he spits a dry laugh, “what gave you that idea?”

You give him a once over and offer a half-smile. “That suit, for starters.”

He looks down at himself like he’d forgotten he was wearing it and wipes away a stray speck of blood from the bright material that you’re sure you might be responsible for.

“What, you like it?” He grunts.

You can’t help but smile. “Yellow suits you.”

“This is all I had left to remember you— them by,” he says, tone turning more sombre as he reminisces.

You decide it’s not the time to make another jab, so, instead, you play back and forth with the bottle for a while until the alcohol stops stinging your throat.

Something small shatters inside of you when you watch him muster the strength to look into your eyes, and his look a little glassy.

“Did you love him?”

Woof, that needed a healthy drink of courage to answer. When you hold his gaze, there’s a hollowness to his expression— an unasked question. Was there truly a version of him worth loving?

“Yeah.” You wipe the back of your hand across your mouth to cover the crack in your voice. “Yeah, I did.”

He’d insisted he hadn’t wanted you around yet he’d kissed you and now followed you to where you’d been sleeping. That had to count for something, so you extend your arm and gesture the bottle towards him— an olive branch in the form of shitty Jack Daniels. Your fingers touch when he accepts it and the brief glimmer of eye contact you share sends shivery energy zipping between you.

“I loved him,” you repeat, as if convincing yourself. A repeated balm to soothe the pain of letting him leave.

“He’s an idiot for leaving you.”

You bite back a sob-laugh, imagination caught somewhere between wondering who you’d rather beat up more: him, or yourself.

“Maybe I’m an idiot for not followin’ him.” You sniff deeply to push back the incoming sob-induced mess. “Not that he woulda let me.”

He hums resignedly.

Clearing your throat, you tuck your hands between your thighs. Swiftly moving on. “What was I— she like?”

He takes a long drink and sighs thickly when he comes up for air. He looks down at his hands when he talks as if choosing his words thoughtfully and carefully.

“Strong, smart. Stubborn. Far too fuckin’ stubborn.”

You force a smile over the flinch of pain in your chest. “Guess we got that in common.”

You reach up and twist the dog tag around your neck, feeling for the ring you’d slipped around the chain. You were never married legally but were in all the ways that mattered. Your heart aches for the brief moment of domesticity you shared with him. You expect him to be finished, but he once laughs, a smile cracking on his face.

“She loved kids— had a soft spot for the weird ones.” He squints and rubs at the flesh between his knuckles where the blades typically protrude. “Put me in my place. Stood up for what was right.”

His words strike a chord in your heart, playing the familiar tune of yearning and guilt and grief. A swelling sensation rises from your stomach and you’re not sure if you’re going to scream, cry or throw up.

“Were you—?”

“In love with her? What, like you can’t tell?” He interrupts, face hardening. Another drink. “It doesn’t matter. We argued one night and I refused to follow her back to the school, ‘bout the same time the humans went mutant hunting.”

Logan takes a moment to catch himself.

“When I came back, shit-faced from the bar, I realised I’d gotten my version of you murdered, along with the rest of them. Laid up like a fucking log pile. That’s what loving me got you.”

The gruesome imagery sours the liquor in your stomach. You push the nausea down with a hard swallow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wh—” He jolts back, face pinched. “I got you killed, and you’re fuckin’ sorry?”

“There’s a world where you didn’t make that choice. You know, I’m not proud of who I am, either,” you answer, softly. “After you left and I lost you… I got bitter, stopped pulling my punches.”

“You never liked hurting people.”

“I didn’t.” You take a deep breath, willing away the warmth that pools behind your eyes. You quickly regain composure with a short cough. “Whatever woman you’re comparing me to, I stopped being her a long time ago. Like you told me— I’m no hero.”

He grunts, looking like he regrets saying that now. Checkmate. You’re not what either of you expected or yearned for in one another, but maybe you’re exactly what you both need.

“You know, your accents thicker.”

He says it as if to draw a line of separation, but you take it as an invitation. Your head swims from the alcohol, and against what probably is your better judgement, you inch closer to him until your knees bump against each other.

“That’s what I get for hidin’ in the mountains. Got adopted by a scary old lady and her church friends. I reckon she rubbed off on me. You’d like her, I think,” you tell him fondly. There’s something wistful about it, imagining a life with him. You grieve a life you never had but somehow, in his company, the melancholy loosens its grip.

“Maybe we got lucky,” you add flatly.

He lifts the bottle with a dry laugh. “You have a very funny idea of what lucky means, bub.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure. Y’see, they didn’t get lucky. They died, ‘n’ we lost each other,” you explain, glancing up at the stars as if either version of you would ever be in heaven, as if it was as loving enough as a mother’s womb to stretch wide enough to allow space for mutants.

God probably hated you just as much as they did down here.

You lower your head onto his shoulder. “But, we’re still here. Maybe there was always space in my universe for you.”

“You’re drunk,” he observes flatly, but he doesn’t move.

“A little.” You get more comfortable against his tense bicep and close your eyes. “Humour me, why don’t you?”

He sighs, but it’s gentle. “Just for a while.”

“Good, because you’re not very good at keeping your feelings quiet. I know you like this.”

“Keep that to yourself.”

You sigh, eyes remaining closed. “We ain’t gonna talk about it, are we?” You ask, in reference to the kiss.

“Nope.”

A high-pitched whine resonates in your ears, vision blurring as if lying underneath a rippling river current. Paradox has just explained the stakes to you — to stop Cassandra, somebody would have to lay down on the wire and make the sacrifice play. This wasn’t a matter of regeneration anymore— it was being ripped apart from the seams, atomised.

It just so happens that your cat, Kevin, has been loving his little journey around the TVA. Cheater.

“You won’t survive it,” is what you say in response to Logan offering himself up for the job. What you really meant was: I don’t think I can survive losing you again.

“I know,” Logan answers. His eyes drip to where you palm at the slow-healing wound on your side, courtesy of the Lady Deadpool variant. You’re winded, running on fumes, and know you’re in no position to start throwing yourself out there as a suicide volunteer. You’d never make the journey, let alone succeed in your venture.

“That’s why it’s gotta be me,” Deadpool interrupts, peeling the mask from his face to address you both. “Neither of you asked for any of this. You were right. I lied. I lied right to both of your faces — just to get you to help me, and you did.”

“You didn’t lie,” Logan replies, throwing you a glance. “You made an educated wish.”

He reaches into his pocket and slaps the bloodied Polaroid of Deadpool’s friends against Wade’s chest. The gesture is a final, silent acknowledgement of why any of you are here in the first place, and everything that’s led to this moment.

“I got nothin’ back in my world,” he explains, the sharp arrow of his words striking a sting straight through your heart. “Let me do this. For you.”

You could see that this meant more to him, that he would only deem himself worthy and die a peaceful death if he could do it knowing he saved at least one variant of you. This is more than just a mission. This is his only chance to redeem himself, and you know you’re in no position to start trying to convince him that you’d have him either way. Fuck redemption.

You’re parallel from one another, standing just outside of touching distance. It was a cruel existence— reaching out and never quite being able to hold on. It’s inevitable, the pull you feel. You’re dictated by his gravity but cursed by the narrative.

Your chest rises and falls with shallow, laboured breaths as you attempt to process what’s happening, what he’s asking you to let him do. The pain in your side ebbs only from the comparative pain of watching another version of the man you love sacrifice himself for you.

His voice is a quiet whisper. “Give me this.”

But I love you. The words are there, hiding behind your clenched teeth, gnawing at the bars like a feral animal caged in the reminder that this isn’t — shouldn’t be — the man that you love.

Something shifts and as you’re running on the delirium of your battery running low, healing resources drained, you decide that you don’t actually care to make the distinction any more.

You’re in no condition to fight; you barely had the energy to argue with him, let alone stop him. But you can’t just let him go.

One wobbly step forward. You poke his chest, mustering whatever energy remains to express your feelings in the only true way you know how. “I…” you stammer, but you suddenly can’t find the words.

His hand reaches up and he splays yours flat against his chest. Faintly, buried deep behind the armoured layer of his suit, you feel the distinct thunk, thunk of his heart. He exhales deeply when your empathetic energy transmission reaches the other side. Your eyes connect, and even through the sharp whites of his mask, you can feel the psionic pulse resonating between you two— strong enough that the wound on your side begins to sew itself together.

“I know,” he whispers.

And you believe that he does.

He nods shortly, releases your hand, and turns on his heel. You collapse against the control centre, eyes needling through the camera footage, desperate to watch the final moments and know that his sacrifice was worth it.

It’s about the same time that Deadpool yanks his mask back on and barrels down the hallway after him.

“Wade!”

You glance back at the party as you creep towards the apartment door to leave. Your consciousness has only recently slipped back into place, having hovered somewhere above your body for the entire time you witnessed your friends atomically ripped apart, only for them to return mere moments later.

You think it might’ve been witnessing Wolverine sweaty and shirtless that was finally the last straw for you. You’re not sure you’ve recovered since.

You thought you were being sneaky about your departure, but a flat hand reaches from out of view, splays and then holds the door closed.

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Logan asks, voice slow and tentative.

“I ain’t runnin’ this time, I promise,” you answer. He rests his arm on the beam above him, making him appear even taller and maybe even more imposing. Your pulse quickens as you look up at him, trying to find the right words, ones that you hope won’t give you away. You nearly squeak. “I um— just—”

He arches a brow, a hint of a micro-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He shifts, getting closer by just a fraction. “Yeah?”

Trying to keep your distance is proving to be immensely hard when he’s gotten himself this deliciously close. His energy tastes of confidence, a stark contrast to the self-loathing only a mere few days prior. It’s magnetic. If you make eye contact now, you’re not sure you’ll be able to control yourself.

The atmosphere crackles with tension, like the static energy right before lightning strikes. His gaze is intense when you look at him, and with the way his eyes glance purposefully down at your parted lips—

Jesus. Pull yourself together.

You gently pull away from him and feel the spell of the moment dissolve. “I just… need time.”

Recognition flashes on his face, as well as a tick of disappointment, but he seems to understand.

A beat, then he taps the door before stepping aside. “Alright. Don’t be a stranger.”

Wade bursts around the corner, arms wide and voice booming. Vanessa hangs off of his arm, white teeth gleaming with mischievous joy.

“Whoa, hey there, lovebirds! What’s going on here— a secret rendezvous? Looking for somewhere to sneak off? Should I cue the romantic music or just give you two some privacy?”

You jump in surprise at his sudden entrance, flinching away from Logan as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Logan’s expression shifts from whatever tender moment was brewing, spell broken, to a mix of exasperation and resignation, jaw tightening.

“Wade,” he grumbles, voice sharp, but you can acknowledge there’s a level of begrudging affection beneath the steely surface. “Timing, as usual, is impeccable.”

“Um, actually, I was just leavin’,” you answer, tugging on your bag.

“WHAT!” Wade exclaims, face dropping. “We haven’t even gotten to our favourite part yet!”

You tick a brow. “Our favourite part?”

“The cocaine part,” he says, matter-of-factually.

“Wade, that was one time,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry. Thank you for inviting me. I just can’t miss my flight.”

Dogpool jumps at your ankles, whimpering and chewing on the hem of your jeans. You give her a gentle scratch on her head, deftly avoiding the lick of her impressive tongue. Wade scoops her up, holding her against his shoulder and kissing her affectionately on her wet nose.

“You, ah, need a ride?” Logan offers.

Your heart stutters at his chivalrous attempt. “Oh, um. That’s okay— I called a cab. So.”

That was a lie. You hadn’t— not yet. You just weren’t sure if you were going to make the right decisions if you were alone in his company for an hour. Probably wouldn’t make it to the airport without fighting or crying or making stupid choices.

He rubs his jaw. “Right.”

“I’ll… see you around?”

“I better!” Wade yells, using two fingers to gesture that he’s keeping his eye on you as Vanessa yanks him around the corner gleefully.

A magnetic tether — or red string, whatever you want to call it — seems to strain when you walk away from Logan. You feel the pull in your chest, a fluttering of electricity, but you swallow the urges and ignore the way they scratch like glass on the way down.

You call an Uber, squeezing your bag tightly for a source of comfort as you crowd yourself into the back seat. You spare one last glance at the apartment and think for a brief moment you see a silhouette of someone watching you from the balcony, but they slip away into the light before you can discern it.

You know, though. Of course, you know.

You expected relief when you arrived home, but, instead, the aching, gnawing black hole in your chest seems to grow exponentially. You go through the motions— feed your cat, tend to the garden, eat the food with no appetite, go to Church.

The fixture of Jesus pinned to the cross gives you pause for the first time. You wonder if he was a mutant.

You weren’t sure how much of this “time” thing you were going to need to heal or make a decision on where you and Logan stood after everything, but only after your second night, sleepless and alone, do you start to doubt that this will be an easy process. You communicate like you know what you’re doing, but you haven’t stopped shaking since he kissed you, like a newborn foal traversing ice.

You want to do things right. You’re not trying to replace any missing pieces or live up to any expectations he might have of you. The girl he knew seemed to be a softer, sweeter (less traumatised) version of you, and you worry that you’d be constantly comparing him to a ghost of himself.

The rain lulls you as it patters on the window by your bed, but sleep doesn’t take you.

You hear thunder, you think, and wonder if the chickens are frightened in their coops. However, the distant grumble continues to grow, reverberating through the floorboards of your rickety cabin. As it creeps closer you discern that it’s not a brewing storm— but the growling engine of a motorcycle.

Awash with a deep sense of knowing, you throw yourself out of bed and knot a silk robe around your middle. The sound of the engine dissipates, replaced only by the hammering rain and the rushing pulse in your ears when you tear your door open.

You see him— all leather jacket slick with rainwater and tight jeans, brows pinched against the onslaught of the weather as he dismounts his bike.

Logan.

When your eyes meet, there’s a palpable shift in the air, and the storm, angry as a howling spirit, mirrors the turbulent emotions within you. You don’t speak, you don’t think, you just act.

Barefoot, dressed in your slip of a robe, you race down the short path and meet him halfway.

“Logan? Logan?” You call out. “What are you doin’ here?!”

“Had to see you,” he calls out between strides, voice nonchalant as if what he’s said was obvious.

You’re closing the distance. “That’s a day’s ride, and the weather—”

Instead of letting you finish, he grasps your face, kissing you suddenly and with a reverence so sincere that your knees feel gelatinous and weak. His thumbs brush away the raindrops— tears? —that drip over your crystallised lashes. His touch is both grounding and electrifying; the warmth of him pressed against you is a stark contrast to the chilling downpour.

Your fingers curl against the front of his jacket, clinging with equal fervour as if it’s the only thing keeping you anchored from floating someplace else. The strength of his body crowds over you, arm sliding down to capture you by your waist as you lean into him, syrupy-decadent and entirely reliant on him to keep you upright.

The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding over yours tasting both bittersweet and intoxicating in equal measures, like cigar smoke and peppermint gum. There’s a distinct sharpness of liqour and you wonder if he had a shot (or bottle) of courage before coming here. You breathe deeply against his skin, smelling rainwater, musk and gunpowder; your senses are completely overwhelmed by him and you’re not sure that anything could pull you away.

The red string knots.

When you both eventually take pause, gasping for air as the rain continues to pelt, his eyes lock with yours. He radiates relief, desire, and a raw vulnerability that makes your heart ache.

“You’re freezin’,” he murmurs, peppering kisses against your lips, your cold nose, and pulling one of your hands to his face to peck along your palm. You feel dizzy in his embrace, drunk on his lips.

“You should come inside,” you whisper, “before the neighbours start askin’ questions.”

He quietly nods, kissing your fingers before following you inside and ducking away from the rain.

Once inside, he shakes the rain from his hair with a flick, eyes immediately roaming around the innards of your respectable (tiny) house, the size of him immediately proportionally shrinking the interior. He absorbs your surroundings, chivalrously pretending like he can’t see every curve of you in that wet material.

You lead him towards the heath, lighting a small fire to help dry you both off. You leave, pottering around to gather some towels for your hair, and arrive back to see he’s peeled off the top layer of his clothes, leaving him half-exposed, his back an impressive marvel of rippling muscle. He glances at you over his shoulder.

You’re lost for words, but can’t just stand there ogling him. “Um, I don’t think I have any spare clothes that’ll… fit…”

When he turns to face you, his rain-slick torso shines in the firelight, skin glistening on the taught muscles of his biceps as he accepts a towel from you. Your words lag, entirely distracted by the realisation of one thing when you glance down at his v-line and dark, coiling hair that creeps down into his jeans: you’re absolutely going to have sex with this man.

You might’ve decided that when you watched the way his jeans clung to him when he dismounted his motorcycle, but that’s beside the point.

“That’s alright,” he answers, towel slung over his shoulder, eyes roving shamelessly over the damp, silky robe that clings to your silhouette effortlessly. “Don’t need ‘em.”

Your mouth dries when he steps closer to you, head angled, lips centimetres apart.

“Logan…” you breathe, tone edging toward a warning.

He presses against you, tilting you back. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. I’ll get back on that bike and I’ll leave.”

You creep further away, trying to catch your breath. “I—”

The words don’t manifest, simply because you don’t have it in you to lie— to deny yourself of this.

He cages you in against the wall, shrinking you underneath his frame, eyes narrowed and dark as they search for yours through lowered lashes. “Tell me you don’t feel somethin’, and I’ll walk away. You won’t see me again.”

His bare-chested proximity was overwhelming you. You’re acutely aware of every inch of his skin that touches yours, pebbled nipples hard against his warm flesh, stubbled jaw nuzzling against your neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel like a teenager again, anxious and hormonal, a ball of puppy fat and unrequited crushes. The space between your thighs positively aches with heat, throbbing like a second heartbeat.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that I feel something.”

He leans back, lips quirked with a flash of disappointment.

You blink up at him. “Let me show you instead.”

He ticks an eyebrow.

You use your empathetic influence to decrease his heartbeat, relaxing him down to the bone. He sighs, nosing against your shoulder, arms flexing as he holds himself up against you.

“Just with a little influence…” you stroke your way up from the slow pulse in his neck to his jaw, capturing him swiftly. You use your mutation to increase his heart rate this time, hiking it up to an excitable level. His cheeks begin to flush, pupils dilated, lips parted with the anticipation of your kiss. His eyes darken with something intrinsically primal and hungry.

“Does it excite you?” You ask, innocently.

He shakes his head all dog-like as if to regain control, canine showing as his lips curl into a wolfish grin.

“You’re not the only one with… tricks. I can do that, too— in other ways,” he says, tone low and suggestive. He lifts a hand, tracing a knuckle over your exposed collarbone, shifting the soft material of your robe just an inch. Your breath hitches.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat, right?”

You blush. You hadn’t known that.

You challenge his eye contact, feigning self-control and authority. The stare-down has your pulse spiking, arousal ricocheting down your spine and sitting low and syrupy in your belly.

“Your heart’s beating pretty fast, too.”

Oh, Hell. He’s got you melted like butter in a pan.

You rest your head against the wall, breath quickening. “If we do this, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Good,” he growls. “I don’t like to stop.”

The teasing back-and-forth game of teetering towards nearly touching finally gets the better of you. You’re weak, as malleable as soft dough, so you invite him against your mouth with a sigh-wine and a tug on the nape of his neck.

He positively devours you, a hand palming at your breast as you kiss desperately and feverishly. The shoulder of your robe slips and you’re half-exposed, the slip barely holding itself together by the loose knot on your waist. He pulls you impossibly closer, the skin of his chest flush against yours as he reaches and digs fingers into the globe of your ass, hips twitching together.

You fumble between your bodies, yanking on his belt buckle and zipper impatiently. He pulls backwards, a wet string of spit snapping between your lips as you separate, helping you with steadier fingers to remove his jeans. With equal passion, he swiftly tugs on the waist-tie of your robe and discards it somewhere on the floor.

When you’re both bare, nude silhouettes sharp and soft in the firelight, he stumbles you over to the plush rug in the centre of the room. He nods to the couch.

“Legs up.”

You obey without hesitation, taking your seat and spreading decadently for him. He kneels below you of you, hips between your ankles, and gazes at you like a hungry, stalking animal. You feel impossibly sexy and dangerous.

He peppers kisses along the bone of your ankle first, foot hiked up onto his shoulder, only breaking eye contact to flutter his eyes closed. He moves along the inner length of your leg, pausing keenly against the sensitive parts— the thin stretch behind your knee, the soft plush of your thigh. He lowers himself, scruff tickling between your legs, and then licks a molten stroke between your folds, parting you with his tongue and burying his face deeper.

You clench around his skull, mindfulness of your heightened mutant abilities long forgotten. You can’t crush metal between your thighs. Or can you?

He groans into you, varying suckling and kissing you on your clit with long strokes on the blade of his tongue to your hole, lapping up the nectar of your arousal, fingers digging bruisingly into your hips. The sting of his grip and the relentless lave of his tongue entice moans from you, fingers raking into his hair for some semblance of reality grounding in your pleasure-lapsed consciousness.

Jesus. With as filthy as his mouth was, you should’ve known he would be this good at eating pussy.

You come quick, orgasm pulsing on his lips. The burn of overstimulation seizes your muscles, writhing against his onslaught, but he shoves your hips down.

“Not done with you yet,” he murmurs possessively, leaning back to wipe his chin. “On all fours.”

You bite your lower lip, suppressing the humiliation of the intimacy (vulgarity) of it. You turn, belly still clenching with the aftershocks, arching with the anticipation, whining moments later when his mouth reconnects with you. His hands palm at your ass, spreading you wider, tongue slipping dangerously close to the tight ring of muscle.

He slides a finger knuckle-deep, miming fucking you in a rhythmic pulse. His other hand massages you, thumb sliding down until you jerk sensitively against his nudging intrusion.

You feel impossibly full and tingly, clenching around the burn of his thumb and the velvet of his finger, second orgasm surging and bubbling over with your face pressed against the couch cushion, lips agape. You’re slick, drip-dropping onto his cupping palm, every nerve in your body burning raw as his wrist works you through the pulses.

You turn over, relishing in the sight of his scruff glistening with the aftermath of your orgasm, his eyes dark with lust— a hellish man, seraphic on his knees for you. Your insides clench at the sight as he quite literally shatters and redefines what worship means to you.

“Tired already?” He hums, massaging your hips.

You perk a challenging brow. “That was just the warm-up, old man.”

“Alright,” he seethes, sucking on his lower lip as he lifts himself up to your level. “Show me what you got then, baby.”

When you kiss, his mouth slides against yours, drenched with the taste of yourself. His cock steels against your belly when you pull him close, tip pearl-smooth with precum when you reach down and grasp him with a hollowed fist. The feel of him, heavy and warm in your grip, fans to life the flames of your briefly quenched arousal, and you hungrily pull him down onto the couch beside you.

Moisture pools on your tongue as you rub him. You spit on your hand before stroking him from the base to tip, lathering him silky with your drool. You tuck your hair behind your ears, narrowing your cheeks as you slide your mouth up and down his length, fisting the inches that remain.

“Christ.” He twitches in your mouth as you gently massage the warm weight of his sac, lewd sounds emanating from where your lips and tongue meet him. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl,” he snarls, gripping your hair in a fist at the crown of your head. Your engine purrs with his encouragement, revving with newfound enthusiasm.

You always gave as good as you got, after all, and you’re certainly not one to back away from a challenge.

His head lolls onto the back of the couch, thighs tense beneath you, cock hot and hard on your tongue. He growls when he comes, pulsing strongly in your mouth as you lap up the produce of his orgasm, salty and molten down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Put those regenerative powers to good use, why don’t you?” You ask, working him through the over-sensitivity with your wrist. His eyes don’t once leave yours, even as they glaze over and flinch from the pleasure burn. There’s a sharp look of challenging determination on his face— a grit of his teeth, the furrow in his brow. He remains hard in your hands and you perk an impressed brow. Not bad for an old man.

There’s a sweet moment of vulnerability when you crawl over him, a brief sobering in the cloud of lust, a clarity of two not-quite strangers and their shared grief and yearning.

You’re not sure where this moment will take you, but the love of somebody scraping together the shards of a shattered heart for a brief time, even as it cuts their hands, holds you with a semblance of human connection so sincere that you’ll carry it with you for a lifetime.

His thighs spread to accommodate you. You hold your fingers against the thick chords in his neck for support as you fumble between your bodies, slotting him against the catch in your cunt before lowering yourself entirely.

You hiss against the intrusion and he steadies you with a hand on your hip.

“Easy. Don’t hurt yourself.”

You laugh-moan, laying your palms against the coils of hair on his sweat-shimmering chest.

“I can take it.”

The fire, intended to help dry you off, creates a heated environment that beads sweat on his temple. The only brain cells that remain coherent bounce around on lust in your skull — so you lean forward, lick the salty droplet clean, and sigh-whine as you begin rocking against him.

You fall into sync quickly, a desperate rhythm of desperate bodies. The delicious ache of him inside you is a masochistic thrill, similar to the irresistible press on a day-old bruise. The squelching shlick between your bodies is an animalistic reminder of your flesh and blood as you chase the pleasure, bouncing with vigour.

“Christ— I can feel you…” his jaw clenches with resolve, fingers digging into the meat of your ass. “…dripping all over me. You wanted this bad, huh?”

“Wanted to ride you in that fuckin’ Honda,” you straighten your posture, leaning away from him to hold your breasts, panting words between bated breaths. “Thought it might shut you up.”

His hand snaps up and grabs you roughly by the chin. “Mm�� mouthy, aren’t ya?”

You grin. “You got no idea, lumberjack.”

He pulls your face against him, meeting your mouth halfway in a sloppier, fever-driven kiss that shoots arousal to your core like a shot of his favourite whiskey. Something feral stirs within you: a primal, cellular-deep need to connect with him further. Your empathetic power roils off of you like steam on a hot spring, surging into and merging with him until there’s nothing but one feeling, a black hole of unquenchable desire.

You suddenly feel as though you are him: navel-deep, a throbbing muscle with an aching desire to dive further into the serpent-clutch of your cunt, gliding through tingly, honey-silk velvet, blades hanging onto a tether of self-control as they threaten to slide out of your knuckles in ecstasy.

Well. This was certainly new. Add “voodoo sex doll” to your list of mutations.

You gasp, ripping away from the kiss, your powers recoiling back into you at whip-lash speed, dizzying in its ferocity. His eyes meet yours with darkened curiosity.

“Did you—”

“I felt that,” he grunts, tongue darting out to roll over his lips. “It always like that for you? Feelin’ so fuckin’ full?”

You half-laugh blissfully. “Only the good times.”

“I’ll show you a good time, alright.”

He isn’t gentle when he manhandles you, forcing you into an arch as he repositions and aligns himself behind your thighs, one foot planted firmly on the floor, the other bent to accommodate the new angle. He reinserts himself inside of you with ease, hands palming your hips and ass.

You feel him nudging cervix-deep and you reach out, clawing at the couch to hold your jerking body steady against the relentless slap of his hips. There’s no need to tell him faster or harder when you feel the metal plate of his adamantium hips pressing against your ass, pounding and vulgar with the sound of sweat-damp skin-on-skin.

It’s involuntary, the way you pant and cry out, intoxicated by the relentless drag and pull of his cock. He says something to you but you either don’t hear him or have enough conscious space in your sex-drunk fog to process words and respond. He slides a hand down your spine and pulls on your hair until you’re upright, breath hot when it fans against your neck.

“Where’s that mouth gone?”

You lick the drool from your lip, throwing him a glance over your shoulder. “Fuck you.”

The half-lidded up-and-down look he gives you as satisfaction grows slowly on his lips turns your bones to jelly. “There she is,” he growls back, offering a sharp slap of encouragement on your ass as he drops you back onto your front. You involuntarily grip around him, puffy clit throbbing with the almost-but-not-quite-there anticipatory build. “You gonna come for me? Yeah? I can fuckin’ feel it.”

You slide a hand underneath yourself, reaching for the swollen nub with two fingers. You’re overwhelmed with kinetic energy akin to a fizzy champagne bottle— two more shakes until you’re ready to pop.

You hear a Snikt! behind you, accompanied by a throat-caught groan, and then the distinct ripping shred of blades impaling your couch. You finally come, hard, when you feel him throbbing inside of you, followed by the decadent syrupy flood of his orgasm filling you up. He ruts into you one, two three more final times, milking himself dry, before collapsing over your body in a sweaty heap, sparing you the weight of his metal bones with a forearm propped next to you.

Shared fluids drip to the couch when he eventually pulls out of you, blades retreating into his clenched fists. The fluffy innards of the chair spill out beside you, and, while you were in no financial position to afford another, the sight entices a humoured smile from you.

“Sorry,” he says with a wince, helping you sit up when your unreliable legs shake beneath you.

“That’s alright. It’ll make for an interestin’ story,” you retort, fanning yourself with a hand. You both let out a shared laugh, mostly from the relieved delirium of it all. After a beat, you lean into him, massaging a hand across his belly. “So. We really doin’ this?”

His face softens. “If you’ll have me.”

You cup his face and kiss his cheek. “I’d take any version of you I could get.”

divider credits: @/vysleix and @/cafekitsune tag list: @bearwithegg, @uhlunaro, @sseleniaa, @jxssimae, @autumnsymphony

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #james logan howlett #wolverine #x reader #deadpool and wolverine #honda odyssey #logan x reader

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emphistic · 19 days ago

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Boyfriend!Sukuna's up to no good, you can just feel it. After being with Sukuna for years since high school, it's safe to say your very reliable, very credible "Boyfriend is Being Bad" senses are tingling. And they're tingling worse than ever.

It's utterly ridiculous. You've been sitting on the couch for hours, and have already completely finished a season of your favorite show. Yuuji's whining about having his brother tuck him into bed, and you have run out of coffee. It's past evening, and Sukuna is literally nowhere to be found.

"When's Brother coming home?" mumbled Yuuji for the umpteenth time. He was curled up on your lap, pressing his chubby cheeks to your sweater, and yawning like he worked a 9-5 and paid the bills.

"In a little bit, Yuu, just be patient and wait, 'mkay?"

"Hmph!" The boy crossed his arms over his chest and gave quite the intimidating pout. "I be patient! And still no 'Kuna! Does he not love us anymore—?"

There was the screeching of tires pulling up to the house, the sound of someone running full speed to the door, and keys jingling with desperation, all before the door was opened, slammed closed, and lo and behold: Sukuna—in all his glory. (He looked like shit.)

"What the hell—" You cleared your throat, cautious of what to say in front of someone as young as Yuuji. "Where have you been?"

Sukuna was panting, drenched in sweat, and his hair was a mess. "I'm . . . I was . . . I was getting a cat for Yuuji and you; y'know, because you two were nagging me about it all week after we watched the Lion King?"

Despite his brother's current disheveled state, Yuuji wasted no time in scurrying off your lap, running as fast as his little legs could carry him, and jumping onto his brother's leg and attaching himself there like a monkey or something. "Yay! Brother! Brother home!"

You eyed Sukuna warily, fully taking in his appearance. "So, where's the cat? And, last time I checked, you don't have to run ten miles in order to purchase one; you look like you just did a whole work out."

"If you count running from the police as a work out, then, yeah. . ."

"The police? Do they run a special kind of pet store or something?"

"Not exactly," Sukuna winced, as the sound of sirens blaring began. "So, just making sure, you love me, right?"

". . ."

"Ah, I may or may not have tried to pick up a tiger from the local zoo, and turns out, that is not very legal."

"You're . . . joking."

"The tiger, uh, jumped out of the window while I was on my way home. . . And I'm pretty sure the police are looking for it and me, but don't worry, I've been in run-ins with the law before. They've got nothing on me, babe—"

"You're trying to tell me that your concern is the police? WHEN THERE'S A TIGER ROAMING THE STREETS? OF OUR NEIGHBORHOOD?"

"Hey, there's a good part to this." Sukuna raised his hands in defense. "I made Christmas come early, y'know. You two have been begging for a pet."

"A PET! NOT A WILD CAT THAT YOU STOLE!"

#oh he would SO do this #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x y/n #em writes ˎˊ˗

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gothgoblinbabe · 3 months ago

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Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Warnings: ( MDNI 18+) neighbor!reader,fem reader, Logan’s kinda rude for a lil’ bit, neighbors to frenemies to lovers? Idk, alcohol consumption (nothing 18+ happens while anyone is intoxicated), swearing, i can’t write Wade’s witty dialogue for shit pls bear w me, implied age gap, unprotected sex (wrap it up I beg of you), poking fun at the Kardashians a little, swearing and I think that’s it, but pls lmk if I missed any!

Summary: You have a little too much to drink one night in Wade's living room, resulting in an indirect confession that Logan absolutely hears through the thin drywall of his bedroom. Wade then ditches your usual weekend plans in an attempt at playing cupid - and it may just be the best favor he's ever done for you.

Word Count: 8K (get comfy bitch)

divider credit here and here

Being Wade Wilson’s best friend and neighbor included two main components:

Watching trash TV and getting drunk every other weekend - usually at the same time - and Wade wasn’t going to let his new roommate's attitude ruin it in the slightest.

“She’s gonna be here any minute and if you don’t pull the stick out of your ass and be nice, I'm going to lock you in your room like a sad, lonely dog.”

Logan only grunted in response, sipping his drink in the doorway and watching him run around the living room to make the place look livable.

He’d only moved in a couple weeks ago and Wade had been trying to introduce you both - inviting you over when he knew Logan had no plans - but every time, he was out the door before you were even opening yours across the hall. He’d try everything he could to avoid meeting new people, fearful that any type of real connection with someone would be ripped out from under him just like it had been many times before.

Wade huffed in satisfaction when he was done moving a few things around, standing in front of Logan with his hands on his hips.

“I mean it, kitty cat. She’s a sweet girl - keep the claws in.”

“Told you to stop callin’ me that.”

“Too bad, so sad, kitty.”

As Logan was considering puncturing three evenly spaced holes in both sides of Wade’s chest, they were both interrupted by a knock on the front door.

You were on the other side, of course, a twelve pack of beer under your arm. You rocked back and forth on your heels while you patiently waited for Wade to let you in. You did kind of hope you’d maybe get to meet his new roommate this time - it was a little odd that he was never there when you were.

He answered the door after a second, placing a hand over his heart dramatically when he saw the beer in your arms.

“For me? Aw, sugar, you shouldn't have,” he sighed as he took the box from your arms, ushering you inside.

“Did I have a choice?” you joked back, kicking off your shoes.

You followed him into the living room only to stop in your tracks.

Logan stood near the couch in his sweatpants, looking like he’d been dragged into the middle of the room to be put on display. He did reluctantly agree to stay for a second and finally let him introduce you so he could sulk back to his bedroom and nurse a bottle of whiskey till he fell asleep.

“Well, there he is,” Wade said in a lackluster tone, “now, he is house trained, but he does bite occasionally - “

“Fuck off.”

His deep voice surprised you a bit, unintentionally raising your eyebrows with your gaze still on him.

“ I'm Logan.”

You nodded politely and introduced yourself, shoving your hands in your pockets nervously. He was tall, definitely a good couple years older than you and incredibly handsome, all of which made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

And Logan did not like the way you were looking at him.

He’d seen it more times than he could count on the faces of every pretty young thing that tried to take him home from the bar, batting their eyelashes at him and laying hands on him like it would be persuasive in any way. It never worked, as his dismissive attitude sent a clear message. He couldn’t be bothered to take any of them up on their offers and wasn’t interested in fulfilling some fantasy they had about being with an older man. He didn’t think much about stuff like that anyway, avoiding any chance of vulnerability and attachment to someone he was sure he’d eventually lose.

And you still had that look on your face.

“Night.”

With that, Logan disappeared down the hallway to his room and shut the door.

“He’s not much of a talker,” Wade assured you, “probably for the best.”

From then on, you’d occasionally see Logan come out of his room while you were over - getting something from the kitchen, doing his laundry, coming and going - and each time you had to feign complete disinterest. Wade had quickly taken notice of how you tried to keep your head down every time Logan entered the room to hide your pink cheeks and - naturally - there was no way for him to be quiet about it.

When Logan came out of the bathroom one time with a towel around his waist and dripping wet hair as you and Wade sat at the kitchen island, your best friend was more than eager to run his mouth.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t do that to her!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards you, “you’re practically dangling meat in front of a starving dog - poor girl.”

You had your face buried in your hands with your elbows on the counter, wishing more than anything that you could sink into the chair and through the floor.

“God, shut up.”

Your voice was muffled by your hands but he still heard you.

“And put a stop to my job as cupid?”

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning towards his bedroom. He’d seen the way your eyes widened the second he’d opened the door, traveling all the way from his bare shoulders to the trail of hair that dipped under the towel. You’d turned pink almost immediately. It would have been something he’d found cute maybe a couple decades ago, before the very last bit of his naivety had faded away. Now, it was just infuriating to him. He could try to drop every hint on earth that he wasn't interested (which for him, just meant avoiding you completely) and you still looked at him like a lovesick schoolgirl.

This weekend came along like every other, texting Wade back and forth about snack options and finally getting up to shuffle across the hall with a bag of chips.

He answered the door as usual, ushering you in. You plopped yourself down on the couch and kicked your slippers off, clad in sweatpants and a tank top. He sat beside you and you propped your legs up on his lap, snatching the TV remote from the coffee table to flip through channels. You heard what you assumed was Logan’s bedroom door open down the hall, keeping your eyes glued to the TV.

“Peanut! Care to join?” Wade exclaimed as he watched his roommate enter the open kitchen, digging around in the fridge.

You still didn’t tear your gaze from the screen.

“Hell no.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Your loss!” Wade reached for the pack of beer on the table, offering one that you gladly accepted, “but don’t bother us, keeping up with the kardashians is incredibly important.”

“Uh - huh.”

Logan disappeared again in seconds and Wade shook his head.

You focused back on the TV screen.

“So, how many minutes into the episode do you think one of them is going to start a fight?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hours and many beers later, you were on the floor with your knees to your chest between the couch and coffee table as you tried to stifle your giggling. Wade was laid on the couch, no better off than you.

“Hey - hey, I wanna ask you somethin’,” his voice became a little serious, but he still had a shit eating grin on his face, “what are you into Logan for anyway?”

You dreaded the question, groaning and closing your eyes.

“Seriously! I mean, I’ve been here the entire time - “

“Wade.”

He looked at you expectantly, awaiting a response.

You contemplated your answer for a moment, your filter diminishing more and more with every sip of beer, “God, I don’t know, he’s - he’s jus’ big.”

You were snickering behind the beer bottle you drunkenly held in front of your face in an attempt to hide.

“I don’t think he’s that impressive. You know, he’s got small feet - tiny, like a child.”

That had you both doubled over, trying to muffle your laughs with your hands and the throw pillows strewn on the floor.

“Stop, stop - ” you choked out when you finally caught your breath, wacking him on the arm.

“Okay but really, what is it? I know you, you’re not into beefcakes,” he laughed and shook his head.

You sighed, not really thinking for even a second before you started speaking again.

“He’s older and he’s hot -”

“And completely cold and dismissive towards you.”

You rolled your eyes at his interruption but still nodded, “yeah - yes, but that’s not my point.”

Wade took another sip of his beer and motioned for you to continue talking.

“He, uh - ” you tried to bite down a giggle, your face turning pink, “I don’t know, I think he’d be good in bed.”

That made him sit forward on the couch, his mouth open in surprise, “I knew it! I knew you were a horny freak!”

“Am not!” you picked a pillow up from the floor and launched it at his face, “I’m allowed to be, anyway!”

“Whatever,” he caught the pillow in his hands, “I'm on operation ‘Cupid’ and I have never quit a mission, cupcake. So, what about him makes you think that? Is it because he's a hundred and eighty - something years older than you? He’s probably been passed around the block like a wh - “

“Okay,” you cut him off, cringing at the thought, “ I think I got the picture.”

Your mind began to wander again about Logan and you narrowed your eyes in thought, staring at nothing.

“What’cha thinkin’, honey bun?”

Wade's voice cut through your concentration and you shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face.

“Oh no,” he started, stretching the vowel, “you’re having a sex fantasy right now, I can see it on your face - disgusting. Tell me more.”

“What, you want details?” You laughed, giving up on trying to hide it if Wade could already read you like an open book. You were both terribly honest with each other - almost to a fault.

“Not the full middle-aged-white-women erotica novel version,” he answered, “I can accept cliff notes.”

You thought for a moment, going down the mental list you’d made of all the assumptions you had about the older roommate that you rarely ever saw.

“He’s gotta have a huge dick. Like, massive.”

Wade nearly spit out his beer but nodded for you to continue.

“I’d let him, like - like,” you were giggling between words as you tried to form a sentence, “ fuckin’ rearrange my guts.”

That did make Wade spit his beer, which set off a train of uncontrollable laughter that you both tried to stifle.

Still, throw pillows and hands over your mouths were not as effective as you believed.

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, squinting in the dark. The digital clock on his nightstand read ‘2:24 am’ in red LEDs. He closed his eyes again and tried to drift back to sleep, only to be jolted up by the sound of the two of you laughing obnoxiously from the living room.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled to himself, getting up to walk towards his door so he could tell you both to keep it quiet. As his hand touched the knob, he halted when he heard your voice.

“He’s probably good at eating pussy. He’d be like an animal - “

Logan was stuck in place, his eyes narrowed. Who the hell were you talking about?

“Can we go back to the rearranging guts thing? ‘Cause I have to tell you, sister - he’s made of metal and he’ll really do it.”

That couldn’t be about him. He refused to believe you two were actually talking about him like that in the next room.

“I’d let him,” he could hear you snickering.

“Is this a daddy issues thing? The ‘I can fix him’ maneuver?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to fix him, I said I wanted to fuck him.”

If this was about some guy, Logan should be relieved; thankful that you’d found a new target of infatuation. He should be relieved, but he was gripping the door knob like he was going to break it off.

Wade’s voice broke through his thoughts, “you’re lucky Logan’s not much into relationships, then.”

So you were talking about him.

Your voice echoed in his head, your words cementing themselves into his brain.

On the living room floor, you were chucking pieces of popcorn into Wade's direction, trying to land one in his open mouth.

“Hey,” he started after catching a piece between his teeth and eating it, “if you do end up in Wolvies bed? Pics or it didn’t happen.”

You gasped and nearly chucked your empty bottle at his head, deciding against it when you remembered Logan was asleep in the other room.

Logan was in the other room.

Just as you were about to panic to Wade about Logan overhearing your foul-mouthed and horny drunk rambling, you both heard the click of his door coming unlocked and the creak of the hinges. He appeared at the doorway in a beater and pajama pants, his hair sticking up in every direction. Truthfully, he looked cute.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you. It’s two in the morning.”

Adorable, even.

“Oopsie! Sorry, Peanut. We had very important things to discuss,” Wade replied.

Without another word, Logan shut his door again and you and Wade sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“Do you think he heard me?” you whispered, grimacing.

“We’ll find out.”

With that, you both decided to call it a night and you returned to the familiar comfort of your apartment.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Wade was up far earlier than his roommate, as usual. He sat on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, turning his head when he heard Logan’s door open.

“Sleeping beauty! So kind of you to bless me with your presence. What’s the occasion?”

“Breakfast.”

“Technically it would be lunch, peanut.”

Logan was facing the pantry in the kitchen and Wade could still feel the anger radiating off him.

Ignoring his seething silence, Wade began to speak again, “you didn’t happen to overhear any conversations last night, did you?”

Logan was facing him again, pouring cereal into a bowl and speaking without looking away from it, “you mean the one where your little friend said she wanted to fuck me? Yeah, I heard enough of it to get the jist.”

Wade had a gleeful look plastered on his face as he turned in his seat, “so you’re gonna take her up on the offer, right?”

“That wasn’t an offer, and besides,” Logan was shoveling cereal into his mouth, “ ‘m not interested.”

“See, you say that, Peanut, and yet you just have to come out here at least once while she’s over.”

Logan was glaring daggers into his skull.

“I live here.”

The younger of the two clicked his tongue, turning his attention to the TV screen, “All I'm saying is that she’s our neighbor, she's a sweetheart, she is single and has a job and an apartment all to herself, dude. Bone city.”

“Ew.”

“Think about it.” “Don’t need to.”

As Logan scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and put the bowl in the sink, Wade was already typing furiously in his messages to create a plan.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Another week rolled by, meaning it was time to get hammered and make fun of the Kardashians again. You held your breath waiting for Wade to answer the door, anxiously picking at your fingernails.

He opened the door and ushered you in like any other time, except he was dressed to go out instead of the usual PJ attire.

“What, are you leaving me for a hot date?” you teased, dropping the snacks you brought onto the kitchen island.

“Yes!”

You furrowed your eyebrows and frowned, awaiting his explanation.

“I’ve got a date with Vanessa, but - “

Logan emerged from his room, navigating his way to the kitchen as if neither of you were there.

“Peanut! So glad you decided to join us! Hey - “ Wade tapped the kitchen island, motioning for him to come over so he could talk to you both at the same time.

“Okay - I have a date with Vanessa tonight, so I need you,” he motioned between the two of you, “to get along.”

You were about to interrupt, insist that you can just reschedule, but it was as if he’d read your mind.

“You’re already here, cupcake, just stay and chill out. And you - “ he turned completely towards Logan, “you’re going to be nice like I asked you. Do you think you’ll survive?”

Logan was staring at him, unblinking with a scowl on his face.

“You, uh, you don’t have to sit with me,” you mumbled to him, forcing him to finally acknowledge your presence.

He’d half expected it to be your idea as much as it was Wade’s - some kind of ploy to get him alone - but you weren’t jumping at the chance, trying to be touchy-feely with him, begging him to stay.

He almost wished you would.

He cleared his throat and looked back to Wade, “I'm not gonna babysit your friend.”

“Who said I needed a babysitter?” you chimed in.

They both turned to you to watch you slam the top of a beer bottle on the edge of the countertop, sending the metal top flying somewhere into the living room.

“We have a bottle opener in the drawer,” Wade sighed in defeat, ”anyway - you don’t need to babysit her, I'm just saying she doesn’t bite and It would be uncool to leave her all alone.”

“Aren’t you the one leaving?” you asked, taking a sip of your beer.

“Not the point,” he answered, grabbing his jacket from the coat stand as he walked towards the front door, “play nice, don’t eat anything in the fridge with my name on it and there’s condoms in my nightstand!”

He opened and shut the door, leaving the both of you in awkward silence. Logan’s face was actually red, a mix between rage and mild embarrassment.

“He’s a dick,” you muttered, trying to make some kind of small talk, only to be met again with silence. You sighed, going to the couch and picking up the remote. You finally made yourself look Logan in the eyes, your cheeks burning uncontrollably when he never broke his stare.

“Listen - it’s fine, I get it, you’re like…the lone wolf,” you laughed a little to yourself, having to divert your eyes to the fabric of the couch, “I’m not gonna burst into tears if you don’t sit with me.”

He was a little taken back by your bluntness, though it was refreshing. He figured you’d be pink in the face - practically begging him to stay - but you weren’t. You pretended you couldn’t give less of a shit with your eyes now glued to the TV. You were as cool as you could act on the outside, but you nearly lost that cool when he spoke again.

“I can sit for a bit,” he shuffled over to the couch, settling himself down next to you. If you weren’t gonna be all over him like he thought you would, he could withstand a couple episodes of whatever the hell you and Wade had been watching. He didn’t dislike you, really - just terrified of the possibility of intimacy. You were pretty, and from what he’d overheard now and then, you were funny too. He liked the way the smell of your body wash and perfume flooded the apartment whenever you’d stop by and how you’d always bring some leftovers to be sure both of them had eaten - leftovers of which the roommates would always get into a spat over - usually because Logan ate it all before Wade could even see what was in the container.

Unfortunately for Logan, he began to enjoy you being around.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in knots when he sat beside you but nodded in acknowledgment, flipping through TV channels. You settled on the Kardashians again, tossing the remote on the table.

“This is the shit you guys watch, huh?” he teased, grabbing a beer from the pack Wade left behind.

You smiled a little to yourself, noticing how he was slowly getting more comfortable with you, “mhm, top tier - wait till you see one of them talk, it’s like watching an alien.”

You actually pulled a miniscule of a laugh out of him and your heart nearly skipped a beat at the sound.

As the show went on and you both made snarky commentary at just about everything, you felt more and more like you were just hanging out with Wade - comfortable and casual, except for the way your face burned up every time he stretched and his white beater rode up his stomach.

“So,” you began as the episode ended, “thoughts? Opinions?”

He was looking between you and the screen, thinking hard, “I don’t get it.”

You shrugged, “me neither, to be honest, but god is it funny to watch rich people lose their shit sometimes.”

He chuckled again at your response, placing his empty bottle on the table next to yours.

It was silent for a moment, the air tense with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“What do you usually watch on TV?” you asked, intending to flip the channel to whatever he may be interested in - if he had to sit through Keeping Up with The Kardashians, it was only fair.

“Nothin’, really,” he answered, his eyes moving from the screen to rest on you, like a heavy weight on your chest.

“Do you even watch TV?” you asked, the both of you having abandoned the idea of trying to find something else to watch and just letting it play in the background.

“Nah,” he shrugged, his arms crossed against his chest, “ I don’t do much of anything.’

You could tell his answer was earnest and you frowned a bit, swinging your legs up on the couch and turning to face him completely, “nothing? There has to be something.”

He was unsure about how close you were to him now, your knees to your chest as you looked at him expectantly. He thought he’d be met with that look - the one you kept giving him in passing that he hated so much - but your face was neutral, waiting patiently for him to respond. Truthfully, he didn’t hate the look itself - or you, for that matter - but hated how it made him feel.

As if there were some sliver of hope for a future worth living through.

He cleared his throat, turning his body towards you on the couch, “I work out, sometimes - “

‘’Yeah, clearly’’, you wanted to say.

“Other than that,” he continued, “I don’t know, the bar - sometimes I'll let Wade drag me out somewhere but I usually leave after half an hour.”

“Huh, so you really are by yourself a lot,” you realized aloud.

Logan never thought it sad until he heard it from your mouth.

“I like it that way, most of the time,” he shrugged.

“I can tell - took you two weeks to finally say hello. I think this is the most I've ever heard your voice, actually.”

He realized you were right and did feel a little bad, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I just don’t like meeting new people.”

“Me neither.”

It was silent then - save for the TV - either one of you waiting for the other to explain just why that is. You figured it would be easier if you went first.

“I never really had a lot of friends growing up. I had a hard time in school and a lot of the other kids didn’t like me. It was just tough to make friends, especially because - “

You stopped, thinking over what details to include and what to leave out.

“Because?” Logan prompted and you sighed, biting back a giggle.

“Because I was goth. I don’t mean I just dressed in black - I mean I wore white face paint and huge boots and ate lunch in the art room.”

That actually pulled a real fucking laugh out of him and you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“I’m not laughing ‘cause you were goth, that's not weird” he clarified, “I'm laughing because I just can’t picture it.”

You didn’t embrace the style as much as you used to, trading Siouxsie Sioux makeup for reading glasses and teased hair for your natural texture.

“I’ll bring over my highschool yearbook sometime,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

Realizing it was now his turn to speak, he readjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat, visibly becoming a little uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, you know,” you reminded him gently, giving a soft smile.

It only made it harder for Logan that you were so damn nice.

He tentatively explained the timelines, the different versions everyone has of themselves, how he’d gotten there. You hung on his every word, unintentionally giving him a sympathetic look when he had finished explaining.

“So…you were just alone after all that?” your voice was soft, worry clear in your tone.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “yeah, yeah.. ‘till I met Wade, obviously.”

You gave him a small smile, “you’ll never be alone again, you know.”

For some reason, the unfamiliar comfort made his stomach turn and he simply shook his head, “Yeah, I'm never gonna be able to get rid of him.”

That made you giggle, nodding in agreement.

“You can try, but he will always find you - like a determined cockroach.”

That got the both of you and you’d never seen Logan smile that way - though, to be fair, you never saw much of his face anyway.

The version of you that sat on the couch across from him was far from who he thought you were. He felt guilty now for assuming things just from looking at you, but it was a habit he had yet to shake. It was clear you were beautiful - that was never a question - but talking with you made him realize just how much he may have missed out by keeping himself so closed off. You laughed at almost every joke he had made, comforted him when he was nothing but rude and always checked up on him and Wade. You smelled so nice, your hair looked so soft and he almost found himself wanting to reach over and run his fingers through it. In his eyes, you seemed to be everything he was not; all of the best qualities he believed he didn't possess.

“Oh, hey - do you want some popcorn? I brought the microwave kind, I keep telling Wade to get it himself and he never does,” you snapped him out of his trance and stood from the couch, already walking to the kitchen.

“Uh, sure,” he found himself getting up to follow you, not wanting to pause a moment of conversation.

You tossed the bag in the microwave and hit the button, leaning yourself against the counter. Logan leaned himself besides you, significantly taller. You’d held your composure so far, but having him so close and realizing just how much bigger he was made your heart beat like a rabbit’s.

“So, you never asked about the mutant thing,” He spoke over the popping, looking down at you and waiting for the twenty questions.

You only shrugged, “I figured If you wanted to tell me, you’d tell me. I wasn’t gonna interrogate you about it. Plus, Wade told me.”

“Of course he did,” Logan scoffed, “I’m afraid to know what exactly it was that he told you.”

“You’ve got adamantium instead of bones,” you replied matter of factly, “and you’ve got claws. I mean, I’ve never seen them, but that's what he told me.”

He thought for a minute, stepping in front of you a little. He was about arm-length away, putting enough distance between you both that he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally knick you.

In a second, the adamantium claws protruded from between his knuckles, glistening in the kitchen light. You flinched for only a second, leaning in to inspect them.

“Woah,” you muttered, bringing a finger up to the very end of one of them and letting it poke you, “cool.”

He was a bit confused by your calm demeanor, but relieved by it anyway. It was never a good time when someone had a bad reaction to the claws. The microwave beeped and he retracted them, stepping out of your way. You opened it and held the scolding bag with two fingers, realizing you needed a bowl to put it in.

“Logan, can you grab a-”

You felt one hand on your hip and could see his other reach above you, opening a cabinet you couldn't and handing you a bowl. Your back was almost flush to his chest, making you feel warm all over. He reluctantly pulled away from you and you cleared your throat, shaking the popcorn into the bowl.

He watched you from where you stood, taking in the curve of your waist and hips and realizing he was in much more trouble than he’d originally thought. He’d heard your drunken giggling about him - heard you vulgarly talk about how good you think he’d be at giving head - but he was still thinking it over with his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally broke the silence that filled the room.

“You know, the claws aren’t the only thing abnormal about me.”

“Mm, no?” you laughed a little with your back still turned to him. You could feel that your face was hot.

“Heightened senses,” he said simply, “hearing and smell, mostly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like right now, I can hear your heartbeat.”

Your eyes went wide and you practically froze in place.

“It’s fast.”

His voice was closer.

“Really fast,” his breath was in your ear, his hands coming to rest on your waist, “got even faster when I pointed it out.”

You swallowed hard, knowing very well there was no way to lie to him.

“Jus’ nervous sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything,” you exhaled, attempting to still your shaking hands.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his deep voice reverberating through your chest because of his proximity, “what about the other night, though?”

You narrowed your eyes and turned to finally face him, nearly chest to chest.

“What are you talking about?”

You knew exactly what he was talking about - you just hoped it wasn’t what you thought.

His hands were on the counter behind you, boxing you in.

“C’mon,” he looked at you expectantly with a shit eating smirk on his face, “what made you think I’d be good at eating pussy, anyway?”

You were red with embarrassment, pulling your hands up to cover your face, but Logan caught your wrists gently and clicked his tongue.

“Pretty girl, it’s alright - “

His gruff voice calling you such a sweet nickname nearly made your knees buckle.

“I can smell how wet you get, you know that?”

One of his hands moved to hold you by your throat, barely using any pressure.

“F-Fuck off,” you managed to mutter, stuttering when he pushed one of his thighs inbetween yours. This was nowhere near what you pictured happening when Wade dumped you in his living room with a guy who would barely even look at you.

He chuckled, his other hand pushing on the small of your back to pull you closer into him.

“Yeah? I don’t think you really want me to, sweetheart. Besides, you didn’t answer my question.”

You could barely think, nevermind answer whatever it was he had asked. You were almost nose to nose, Logan craning his neck down a bit to level his face with yours.

“I, um,” your breathing was shaky, “fuck, I don’t know - I jus’ think about it a lot.”

“Me too,” he admitted before crashing his lips to yours, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of your head. It was truthful - he’d probably thought of you every day since the night he heard you talk about him like that.

You couldn’t help moaning into his mouth when he kissed you, letting him slip his tongue past your lips. His hands roamed down your back and to your ass, using his grip to rock your hips over his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he moved down your jaw and neck, kissing and biting at the soft skin, “drove me crazy, hearing you say those things.”

“How much - how much did you hear?” you tried to ask, overwhelmed by his teeth grazing your neck. Your hands rested against his chest - as if you were going to push him away - but you never did.

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin, “heard enough.”

“And what exactly was that?”

If he was going to tease, you might as well bite back.

He pulled away momentarily to look in your eyes, knowing damn well he already had you where he wanted you.

“You don’t want to fix me, you want to fuck me, right?”

Your own words sounded so much hotter coming out of his mouth.

“Mhm,” was all you could manage to get out, too focused on the feeling of him pushing and pulling your hips over his thigh.

“Huh? Use your words, sweetheart.”

There was something about the affectionate nicknames he was using in contrast to the filthy way he was trying to push you down even harder on his thigh that made you lightheaded.

“Yeah - yes, I want to,” you practically whined.

That was all the confirmation he needed to hoist you up onto the counter with his hands on your ass. He was kissing you hungrily, his fingers hooking around the straps of your tank top to let them fall down your shoulders. You didn’t waste any time in breaking the kiss momentarily to strip yourself of the garment, tossing it to the kitchen floor.

“Fuck, jesus christ,” He groaned at the sight of your bare chest and immediately brought his large hands up to massage your breasts. A chill went down your spine when he leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue. Your hands were threaded through his hair, tugging every so slightly when he would pull his mouth off you with a popping sound. The majority of your chest was glistening with his spit when he finally brought his mouth to yours again, leaving a clear coating over the developing hickies that he left. You tugged at the hem of Logan's white beater to signal that you wanted it off. He did as you pleased, leaving plenty of skin for you to run your hands over.

“Been thinking of you, all spread out of me,” he murmured in between kisses. He used his grip on your ass to grind you against him, his hard cock pressing against you. The pressure from it was enough for your pussy to start aching.

“I wanna know what you taste like,” he continued, holding your chin to tilt your head up, “can I find out?”

You nodded frantically and nearly choked on your own spit. You lifted your hips to let him strip you of your pants and underwear, leaving you completely bare on the counter in front of him.

You felt vulnerable, pressing your knees together only to have Logan use his hands to spread them apart.

“Uh-uh,” he clicked his tongue, “let me see your pretty pussy.”

He got on his knees on the kitchen floor, hooking his arms around your thighs and settling his face between them. He nipped at the hot skin of your inner thighs and you inadvertently tugged his hair every time he did so. He finally laid his tongue flat against you and you whined, the sound echoing through the kitchen. He was sloppy, practically drooling into your cunt and using it to lubricate his fingers so he could slip them into you. Your theory from before was proven right; he was kind of animalistic when he ate you out.

He was curling his fingers as he thrusted them in and out, sucking on your clit at the same time. You gasped when he spoke with his mouth still buried in your cunt.

“Tastes so fucking good.”

Your ankles were locked to keep his head between your thighs, leaning yourself back against the wall.

“Jesus christ, Logan - “ you whined, cut off when he growled into you.

“Mhm, ‘feels good, baby?”

You only nodded, unable to communicate with how deep he was curling his fingers into you. He continued to mumble praises against your cunt, amused by how much it clearly spurred you on.

“This is all mine, huh? Know you wanted it, could smell how bad you needed me every time you were over.”

You could feel the pressure in your lower stomach start to build.

“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl - makin’ such a fucking mess.”

It wasn’t long before you were pulling him back by his hair.

He reluctantly detached himself, looking up at you with concern. His mouth and chin were wet, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“ ‘m fine, just - I was close -”

He groaned in a way that almost sounded annoyed, diving his tongue back into you, “C’mon, do it, then - come for me, pretty girl.”

His praise was enough to trigger your orgasm and you couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face as you rode it out. You were cursing, tears starting to form in your eyes when he didn’t let up.

“L-Logan, fuck,” you cried. You could’ve pulled him off, told him it was too much, but he was so determined and skilled in the way he flicked his tongue that the discomfort of overstimulation dissipated into pleasure within seconds.

“One more for me, baby, one more. Think you can?”

You were moaning so loud at that point that you tried to bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound but Logan caught your wrist and brought it back to his hair, encouraging you to keep tugging and pulling.

Your second orgasms approached hard and fast, tears rolling down your cheek. Your legs shook uncontrollably as he finally sat back on his heels.

When you caught your breath, he pulled himself up to slide his arms around your lower back and plant a kiss on your forehead, wiping your wet cheeks.

“Can I take you to the bed?”

You nodded and smiled wide, leaning up to kiss him.

He effortlessly carried you through the hallway and into his bedroom, your bare chest pressed against his. The second your back hit his mattress, his cellphone started to ring from his bedside table.

You watched Logan furrow his eyebrows and reach for the phone. He read the caller ID and bore an amused smile, switching it to silent.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, wrapping your arms around him when he came to hover above you.

“It’s Wade,” he chuckled to himself, “probably calling to see if everythings alright.”

That made you giggle, “yeah, we can tell him we’re doing just fine.”

“I’ll call him later.”

His lips were on yours again, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you as he pinned you to the bed with his hips. You slid your hands from his neck, down his back and around the front of his waist to rest on his belt buckle. Your fingers made quick work of the metal fastener and you tugged the leather from his jeans. He stood up off the bed for a moment to strip himself of the rest of his clothing. When his cock sprung up from his boxers and hit his stomach, you almost had to choke back a gasp. Again, you were proven right - he was huge. He crawled back between your legs and positioned himself on top of you.

“You’re okay with this?”

If anyone told you maybe two hours earlier that you’d end up under Wade’s grumpy roommate, your chest heaving from the anticipation of finally having him slot into you, you would’ve called them crazy. Now, however, it was a reality - one you would’ve gladly spent the rest of your life in.

You realized he was holding back, gripping the sheets next to your head and waiting for a definite answer.

You nodded and scratched at the back of his neck affectionately. He guided himself into you and you groaned at the feeling of his tip alone.

“ ‘s okay?”

Logan was practically slurring his words with how hard he had to hold himself back. Your warm chest to his, your thighs locked around his waist, the way you smelled; it was all overwhelming in the best way possible.

“So good,” you whined, trying to push your hips up to encourage him to go even deeper, “want all of it, please, please.”

He was chewing on his lip when he finally let himself fill you completely in one thrust. You dug your fingernails into his back, leaving scratches that healed themselves within seconds. He let out a guttural moan with his face buried in your neck, concentrating on trying to build a steady rhythm without finishing things too fast. He propped himself up on his elbows on either side of you as he tentatively rocked in and out.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat dampened hair from your flushed face. It was so sweet, so intimate; nothing you’d ever really expected with or from him.

“You're handsome,” you managed to reply, amused by how taken back he seemed by the compliment, “perfect.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him that - handsome, definitely never perfect - while actually looking at him like they meant it. Your eyes were trained on the features of his face, attempting to memorize every line and wrinkle; every bit of him that made him Logan. Your eyes felt to him like they could burn right through the wall he’d managed to construct.

Still, he instinctively scoffed as he hovered over you. He was never good at accepting compliments.

“I’m not the lying type, you know,” you assured him, whispering in his ear as he continued at a steady pace, “besides, do you think I'd be under you right now if that wasn’t true?”

“Mm - shut up”, he fought a smile and increased his pace in the hopes that it would render you speechless.

It did, of course.

You were a moaning mess atop his sheets with your back arched to accommodate Logan’s arm sneaking around you. His pace was enough to rock his headboard into the wall and he was thankful it was your apartment on the other side instead of a stranger’s. You were chest to chest as he whispered filthy things into your ear.

“Takin’ it well like I knew you would, baby doll - knew you’d like it when I fucked you like this.”

You were still at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the pressure in your lower stomach.

“You think you’ve got another one in you? C’mon, sweet girl, let me see it.”

His coaxing had your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as he pounded into you. Besides the grunts and moans between you two, the only sound echoing in the room was the slap of skin against skin and the squelching of your pussy as he dragged himself out and back in again.

You were almost drooling from how deep he was able to fuck you. The familiar fire in your stomach had you feeling warm all over, building and building itself up. As if he could read your mind, Logan’s hand reached down between the both of you and he started to trace tight circles around your swollen clit.

“F-Fuck, my god, Logan - “

He hummed affirmatively, almost as if to acknowledge that was indeed his name that you were chanting.

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you almost saw stars when your third orgasm hit hard and fast. You were probably loud enough for the entire building to hear as he worked you through it.

“Good girl, good girl - c’mere,” he praised, flipping you over so that you were on your hands and knees. You laid your chest as flat as you could against the mattress and arched your back. He didn’t hesitate in fitting himself snuggly inside of you again, his hands kneading at and smacking your ass as he used his grip to push and pull you. It wasn’t long before his thrusts started to become sloppy. He leaned down and hooked an arm around you, lifting you up a little so that his chest was pressed to your back. He moved his hand to your throat to tilt back your head. The way you looked back at him, your beautiful eyes boring into his soul - that was all he needed to finally let go. You felt him flood you with his come, a mixture of yours and his soaking the sheets underneath you. He gently pulled out and almost immediately pulled you against him to cuddle, his eyes already fluttering close. You didn’t take him for the cuddly type but it was just another wholesome thing you’d learned about him.

“You should call Wade back,” you mumbled, already drifting to sleep with your head on Logan’s chest.

“ ‘m busy, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

You chuckled to yourself, letting exhaustion overtake you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Wade practically sprinted up the steps to his apartment the next morning, keys already in hand. If Logan hadn’t answered - even if it was just to tell him to fuck off - something really bad must’ve happened. You hadn't answered any of his fifteen texts, either.

He unlocked his door and prepared himself to be met with a gorey scene, only to be surprised that there was no sign of a scuffle. There was untouched popcorn in the kitchen, clearly abandoned at some point right after making it. Did Logan upset you enough last night to make you leave early?

Of course, he’d completely missed your clothing that had been tossed just out of sight from where he was standing.

Wade sighed in frustration, striding through the hallway and stopping outside Logan’s bedroom. He banged his fist on the door and rested his hands on his hips as he spoke through the wood.

“Hey! Peanut! Did you make our guest leave early last night? How’d it go? You didn’t answer your phone and neither did she.”

On the other side of the door, your heads both popped up at the sound of wade’s banging. You stifled a laugh, looking to Logan for him to say something.

“Uh, yeah…she had somethin’ to take care of.”

Now you had to bury your face in his comforter, uncontrollably snickering.

Without warning, Wade groaned and swung the door open - one neither of you thought to lock because no one had been home.

“You better get your ass across the hall and apologize for whatever it is that -“

He was met with the sight of the both of you in Logan’s bed, covered by the bedding. It was obvious you were both undressed, Logan’s boxers somewhere near Wade’s feet.

He gasped, looking between the two of you in confusion before a giddy smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, I see, I see. Right, mhm - “

Logan was already trying to shoo him out but Wade wasn’t going to let him before he got the last word in.

“You're welcome, by the way!”

He shut the door and you laughed.

Logan laid back again, resting his arm around your shoulders so he could pull you back into his chest again.

In the comfortable silence, doubt settled itself in the form of a pit in your stomach. What if this was a one time thing?

Almost instantly, you felt his hand comb through your hair.

“Hey, uh,” he started, looking down into your eyes, “listen, I know I was supposed to ask this before I got you in here, but - um..”

You could feel your stomach turn, borderline terrified of what he was going to say next.

“Would you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

A wide grin spread across your face and you nodded eagerly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’d love that.”

A/N: this ones long as hell but so is just about everything else I write! if you've made it to the end I loooove u and pls interact if you enjoyed; hearing feedback is what motivates me to keep writing! as always, my inbox is open as well <3

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan wolverine #smut #fanfic #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #fanfiction

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 month ago

Text

Pocky Game

SUMMARY: How would they react if you asked them to play Pocky with you? Do they already know the game? How do they act while playing? And who is the first to finish the biscuit stick and kiss the other?

CHARACTERS: All NRC students (except Ortho)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Bullet Points; Kissing; suggestive?

WORD COUNT: An average of 310 words per character.

COMMENTS: I had this idea for some time but only now did I write it down. I don't know what else to tell to you other than: I hope you enjoy 😘

CONTEXT: The Pocky game is a party game played with Pocky, a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pocky between them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss.

Since it's a game similar to the famous scene from "Lady and the Tramp" where they eat spaghetti, my headcanon is that this game exists in Twisted Wonderland.

How to play:

Pick a partner that you wouldn't mind kissing.

Face your partner and put a Pocky stick between you. Each partner takes an end of the Pocky stick in their mouth.

Each partner bites their end of the Pocky stick until their mouths meet in the middle. The first person to pull away loses!

Riddle has no idea what this game is, you'll have to explain it to him. “So, if I understand correctly, you lose if you pull away and you win if you keep eating the biscuit stick. Very well. It sounds simple. But is there any purpose to the game? Is it some kind of endurance test?” You say, in a way, it can be seen like that. He smiles.“I see. Are there any other rules I should be aware of before we begin?” You say no, that you already explained everything.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point the other side at him for him to bite. He does so and you begin the game. The closer he gets to your face the more he will blush. Until he starts having difficulty looking you in the eye and diverts his attention to the biscuit stick, which makes him make a cute face.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game, it is his turn and he pulls away. “W-wait!” The only times he gets redder than he already is is when he's angry, but of course this was not the case. “You never said there was a possibility that neither of us would pull away. If we both continue eating the biscuit stick until the end, what happens? Because if we had continued...” He looks away, embarrassed.

You apologize because you thought finding out during the game would have been a fun surprise. But you didn't know he wouldn't like the idea of... kissing you.

“What? No, no! It's not that I don't like the idea, I actually really wish I had done it... it's just that... I didn't know that it was the objective and I didn't want to, you know, be ill-mannered in case you...” Then he gets slightly upset with you. “You should have warned me! You lied to me when you said there were no more rules.” He smirks confidently. “If you were a student of Heartslabyul, it would have been off with your head for this. But I will allow you to play again and if I consider the end of the game satisfactory, you will have my forgiveness.”

In the second round, even though it's his turn, he will stop and hesitate, he wants you to be the one to consent. So you take the last bite and kiss him. You feel his lips relax. And If you deepen the kiss, he will reciprocate and hug you, pulling you towards him by the waist.

Ace knows this game so well that it's not you who invites him to play, it's he who invites you. “You also bought a box? Ha ha ha, we thought the same thing. That's a good sign.” He winks at you and smirks. “What box do we start with?”

While you play, he looks you in the eyes with a mischievous and provocative look, to see when you will chicken out and lose. The longer this takes, the more he will smile and the more smug his look will become. His face reminds you of a sly cat.

When there's only one bite left for your lips to meet, he stops, to let you choose whether to kiss him or give up and lose, while he looks you in the eyes defiantly.

If you finish the game and kiss him, his eyes will widen in surprise, but soon after that he will close his eyes and you will feel his lips form a triumphant smile. He place a hand on the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

He's the one who breaks the kiss with the most smug smile he's capable of. “Wow, chill out. We still have a lot of biscuit stick to play with.” There is a pause in which you reply. “What do you mean I was more excited than you?!” He blushes. “Lie! You were enjoying it as much as I was!... Wait! I mean...” He blushes even more. “You know what, let's play again to find out.” He smirks again.

The name of the game is not unfamiliar to Deuce, but you’ll have to remind him what kind of game it was. You explain the rules to him, that both players eat the biscuit stick from one side and the first one to pull away loses. “Okay, so whoever finishes the biscuit stick first wins?” He asks and you confirm.

“I see. So let's... wait! What happens if none of us pull away?” He asks innocently. You suggest that he finds it out while you play. And he trusts you, so he accepts the suggestion.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point for him to bite the other side. He does so, and as your faces get closer he begins to blush.

As the two of you take bites, it seems to bring out his competitive side, causing him to pay more attention to his bites of the cookie than to the fact that he's getting so close to you.

He's the one who takes the last bite and kisses you. But he'll quickly jump away and start apologizing. “Sorry, I didn't mean to- I mean I didn't think- expected-” He stammers, unable to finish a sentence and almost as red as when his Housewarden gets angry.

If he sees you looking sad or disappointed because it looks like he didn't want to kiss you, he'll immediately tell you that's not the case! Clumsily, and stumbling over his words.

“Wait... that... that's what you wanted? T-To kiss me?” The poor boy is a little slow. But now that he's realized this, he's going to try to muster up all the confidence he can and suggest that you try it again. And if you take out another biscuit stick to play again he'll be like: "Ah, yes! Try again the game, yes. That... that's what I meant, haha”

Cater was the one who had the idea. And it was probably trending on Magicam. He will ask you to play in the cutest way that only he knows how to ask. “Oh, you know this game too? So you can play with me right? Right, [Y/N]-chan~? You're not going to tell me that you've already played this with other people and you're not going to play it with me. You're going to make Cay-kun very sad, and a little jealy~.”

If you accept, he'll ask you if he can film you two playing. He promises not to post it on Magicam if you don't want him to, but the footage will be so cute that he'll at least want to keep it as a souvenir for himself. “Pretty please~?”

He will play like it's any other game, while looking sweetly into your eyes. Yes, he is taking the opportunity to flirt with you. If you get embarrassed, even just a little bit, he'll find it super cute.

He will let you take the last bite and decide whether to kiss him or not, while he looks at you seductively as a way to convince you to kiss him.

If you do, you'll feel his lips form a smile as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands on top of one of yours and the other on your cheek.

After the kiss, he will stay very close to you, wanting to hug you and with his forehead touching yours, laughing. Like those couples on social media.

Trey recognizes the name. “It's that game where two people eat the same biscuit stick until they meet in the middle, right?” He smiles awkwardly. “Isn't it usually played between crushes?”

If you answer yes in a way that makes him understand that that is exactly why you want to play with him, he'll give you that rare smirk of his, and chuckles. “Okay. I'll be happy to play with you.”

Even though he knows how the game works, he will let you have more control over the game. You'll take the first bite and he'll follow, as if the fun part for him was seeing you having fun and not the game itself.

He will be smiling sweetly the whole game, but when only the last bite is left, his smile turns into a smug as he looks into your eyes, and he kisses you, kindly and relaxedly. Then he'll pull away with that smug still on his face and he'll even lick his lip.

“Well, I guess we both won. That's what you wanted, right? Did I play well?” His expression is a mix of his gentle side with the rare cheeky side. “Oh,you would like I hadn't pull away so soon? Sorry, I'm still getting used to the rules of the game. I don't mind playing it again if you want. It was fun. With or without the biscuit stick.”

Yes, Leona knows what game this is, and he will tease you for wanting to play it. “Isn't that a cubs's play? How cute.” he says lying in the botanical garden, as always. “And why are you asking me to play? Do I look like someone who plays these games?”

You take that as a no (or at least as a 'try to convince me') So you say that if he doesn't want to, you'll find someone else to play with. Points if you say something like: "Maybe Tsunotarou would like to play with me."

“OI! I never said no! But if you want, you'll have to play with me lying down, because I'm not going to get up to make you that favour.”

He just straightens his head, resting it against the base of a tree before you begin. He opens his mouth for you to put the biscuit stick in his mouth. The only thing he'll do is bite that whenever it's his turn.

At first, his expression is neutral, almost bored. But every time your face gets a little closer to his, a smug smile forms on his lips. In the last bite, not only is he smiling, he's looking you in the eyes like a greedy predator.

He takes the last bite, attacking you with a kiss. He's been standing still the whole game, so when he does that you almost get a jump scare. Just like felines preparing to attack.

But he doesn't just attack you with the kiss. At the same time he puts his hands on your waist and makes you lie underneath him.

He breaks the kiss for a moment and looks at you to see your reaction with the most smug smile on his face. “As if this wasn't why you asked me to play with you. Now deal with the consequences.”

Jack doesn't know what game it is, but maybe he's heard the name somewhere. You'll have to explain it to him.

“Okay, it sounds like a simple game. And... You want to play it with me?” He says rubbing his neck. You say yes and if he wants too. “I... I think I don’t mind.” He says wagging his tail.

If you insist on knowing if he is really sure he wants to play with you, he will stop beating around the bush and tell you bluntly: “Yes. Yes, I would like to play it with you.” But blushing a liiittle bit.

You are the first one to put the biscuit stick in your mouth. He will follow you. He'll be flattered the whole game. He's never played a game so... intense for him.

Whenever your eyes meet, he looks away and his ears lower.

When there's only one bite left he'll stop and let you decide whether you want your lips to meet or not.

If you kiss him, his ears will immediately stand up straight! And if you don't pull away, he will relax, his ears will go back down, and he’ll deepen the kiss.

And you might be surprised when that shy boy a minute ago, suddenly pulls you close to him by your waist and turns the kiss into a passionate one. His tail wagging like crazy, by the way.

And as suddenly as he brought you closer to him, he will pull away, embarrassed for having let himself be carried away.

He will start apologizing and if you want to keep the flame burning, the best option is to shut him up with another kiss. He will love that.

A game that involves eating? Sign Ruggie up! A game that involves sharing food? “Hum... In that case I should have something else for the halves I let you eat.” He bargains with you.

You can try to dissuade him with something like: “But it's just a silly game. And it's just a biscuit stick.” But he will respond with: “It could even be a freshly picked dandelion, I don't play with food.” He's telling the truth, but trying to appear playful.

You suggest giving him the entire box if he plays with you once. But play the game the way it should be played, not finding a way to play around the rules just so he can keep the box. “Shye hee hee. Don't worry, I have no reason to do that.”

You're the first one to put the biscuit stick in your mouth and wait for Ruggie to start eating the other side. But he looked at you and the cookie with a mischievous look, came closer, opened his mouth and... ATE ALMOST THE ENTIRE THING IN ONE BITE! Leaving you just one bite away from placing your lips against his and ending the game. His gaze was cutely mischievous.

If you finish the game and kiss him, he will hold it for a second just to see if you don't pull away. And when he realizes that you are enjoying the kiss, he will grab you by the waist and deepen the kiss. And there is only one way to describe his kiss: Greedy

Azul doesn't recognize the name of the game, but when you explain it to him he realizes it's a land version of one that exists under the sea. And he'll ask you if he can see the box.

He glances at the front, but then turns it over to see the ingredients list on the back. He's counting the calories, isn't he? You try telling him something like, “Come on, it's just a silly game. Just a little biscuit stick.”

But to your surprise, he starts talking about how a game can be a brilliant marketing strategy, to wonder if he could incorporate those biscuit stick into a dessert on the Mostro Lounge menu and whether the students would be interested. You ask for his attention again.

“I’m deeply sorry for wandering off in thoughts while you were talking to me, but I heard everything you said, don't worry. And since you just gave me an idea for a special new item on the Mostro Lounge menu, the least I can do is accept your invitation to play. That might teach me more about this product. And... that way we’ll be even, correct?” He adjusts his glasses.

His confidence starts to slip as the game starts and he realizes how close your face is to his, and how close it will be by the end of the game. He tries his best to remain unmoved and maintain eye contact with you, but he can't stop the blush from appearing on his face.

When there's only one bite left, he stops so you can take the last one and decide whether the kiss happens or not.

If you do, you will feel the tension in his lips, but he will not break the kiss. And if you don't do it either, it will start to relax and deepen it. The tension turns into a smile and you feel his hands cupping your face.

Jade doesn't recognize the name of the game, and asks you if you could explain to him how to play and what it consists of. He recognizes the description as the land version of a game that also exists under the sea.

“Ah yes, I believe I understood how this game works.” Then he gives you that deceptive smile he does when his true intentions are suspicious but hard to tell. “And you chose me to play it with you? Well, I'm honored. I'm more than eager to partake in this land activity with you of all people.”

You are the first one to put the biscuit stick in your mouth. He follows you with a calm smile. But the eyes, they're focused on yours, intensely.

He follows the instructions you explained at the beginning, imperturbably, as if he were truly just following the rules of a simple game. But that was just what he showed. From the look in his eyes you could tell there was much more behind this behaviour.

He always shows himself so passive that it almost came as a surprise to you when he took the last bite like an attacked to kiss you. But his eyes weren't completely closed, just half closed. As if he was observing you and studying you while enjoying the kiss.

And when you start to deepen the kiss, he pulls away, with a charming and dangerous smirk on his face. “It seems that we ended the game in a draw. That is not usually a very exciting outcome, is it. Perhaps we should play another round. And perhaps... make up some new rules of our own. Wouldn't that be interesting?”

Floyd doesn't recognize the game by the name you said, but if your description makes it seem fun in some way, he'll agree to play with you. The problem is that it seems boring to him. It's just eating a cookie. What's so special about that?

You decide to reveal to him that the real reason people play it is to get a kiss from their crush at the end. This makes him smile mischievously. “Aaaah~ So that's why you want to play with me, isn't it Koebi-chan~?” The smile becomes cute. “And what is my reward if I play?”

You say if he doesn't want to kiss you he can just not play. And he sulks. “Ehh? That's not what I said. I want to know what I gain by playing.” He smirks. “Because I don't need to play to get a kiss, do I?” He pauses for a moment to appreciate your reaction. His cute smile returns. “Ah! I know, why don't you give me the box of biscuit stick as payment?” And then he says in that deep voice through the sinister smile. “You're not going to play with anyone else, are you?”

If you accept he'll be like ‘YAY. Let's play then! :3’. You are the one who puts the biscuit stick in the mouth first and he follows with a relaxed look and smile. He follows the rules like you said, but it seems like he's more focused on you than the stick, as if he was amused watching your movements and reactions.

He leaves the last bite for you, watching you with mischievous eyes and an amused smile. If you take the last bite and kiss him, he won't move, not even return the kiss, to see how long you can hold out like that.

When you break the kiss disappointed he will say with a smirk: “Aww, Why so sad? Wasn't it the win you wanted? I told you the game was boring.” He takes the box from your hand, and he wraps an arm around you to pull you close to him. “Now if you still want to make out, you should just do it you know? I'm in the mood so don't waste it.”

Kalim doesn't know what game it is but he accepts any invitation to play anything. He's like: “Of course I'll play with you! Hum... what game is that again?” And after you explain he will say with his big enthusiastic smile: “Sounds fun! I know I can't accept food from other people, but it's you, even Jamil says it's okay accepting things from you. So how do we start?”

You are the one who puts the biscuit stick in your mouth and points it to the other end for Kalim to bite. He does so with a cute, innocent smile.

He seems to be having fun playing. When there is only one bite left to finish the game, it is his turn, and he ends the game giving you an extremely loving kiss. Like a smooch.

He breaks the kiss with a huge happy smile on his face. “Ha ha! This is fun! Can we play again?”

He will make you play with him until the box is empty. And when he asks to play again and you say that the cookies are gone, he will say: “Ow, I was having so much fun. You too? That's great! We should buy more. I'll pay for all of them.”

When you go to the Mystery Shop to buy more and Kalim discovers that there are several flavours, he will buy ALL OF THEM! All of the ones that Sam has? Yes, because Sam, somehow and at that moment, has ALL OF THEM THAT EXIST!

Jamil knows the game because he's heard of it, If not from schoolmates, then from his sister or something. “Isn't that the game where two people eat a biscuit stick to kiss at the end?” He says this with a neutral face, but then he makes that smug face, with one eyebrow raised. “And you want to play it with me? *chuckle* Fine. I don't see why not. I just have one question: Will you allow me to finish the game however I want?”

You say that as long as you follow the basic rules, he can end the game however he wants. “In that case, don't forget that you were the one who allowed it.” He says.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth, but before he bites the other side, he puts a finger on your chin to tilt it a little and only then bites the biscuit stick.

He plays the whole game with that cocky smile. This is one of those rare moments where he lets his cheeky side show.

When there's only one bite left, he lets you decide how the game ends. The moment you touch your lips to his he will grab you and pull you towards him to deepen the kiss in the blink of an eye. Like a snake biting its prey in a single moment.

And then, he breaks the kiss, licking his lips, and still with his arms around your waist. “You're the one who said I could end it however I wanted as long as I followed the rules.” He says with a smirk and brings his lips closer to your ear. “I hope you haven't regret it.”

Yes, Vil knows this game. There was a time when it became very popular and he usually keeps up with those trends. Especially because sometimes they are incorporated into teen shows. “If I ever participated in one of those scene? No. No offence to the genre but I prefer to participate in films and genres that are less... melodramatic. That and IF I were cast in one of those shows there would be little chance of me getting the love interest role. I am perfectly aware that I’m more of a ‘mean girl’ type.” He says with a certain pride in both his voice and his face.

“And you want to play it with me?” He smirks charmingly. “My dear, you and probably all my fans. I hope you know that if I accept, firstly what a privilege and honor it is, and secondly, that this must remain between us. *chuckle* Well, if you understand that, then perhaps I can give you that pleasure.”

He lets you be the first to put the biscuit stick in your mouth and extend the other side to him, inviting him to bite. He does so with elegance and as if he were following some kind of etiquette for that game that you didn't even know could exist. That and he even places his index finger and thumb on your chin to adjust your posture while playing.

When there's only one bite left, it's his turn. He closes his eyes and kisses you gently and delicately. He'll stay like that for a second before breaking the kiss, and lovely looking at you with a soft smile.

“I must admit it was more satisfying than I expected. Thank you for inviting me to play. I shall be the one inviting you next time.”

Epel's never heard of that game, mostly because he's never been interested in that kind of stuff. So you explain it to him. But he doesn't quite understand why that would be fun. “So two people eat a biscuit stick from each side until someone pull away? But what if no one pull away-... wait... Don't tell me the goal is to kiss at the end!?”

When you confirm, his surprised expression begins to turn red. “A-and you want to play it... WITH ME?! No, it's not that I don't want to. I mean...! Hum... you just caught me off guard. But... yes, I... would like to play with you too.” He ends up agreeing with a sweet smile.

He starts playing a little shyly, but as you two take bites he starts to see it as a real game and his competitive side gives him confidence. So much so that when the last bite arrives and he takes it, kissing you, he only realizes it too late.

He quickly pulls away, blushing profusely! He stumbles over his words as he apologizes, because at the same time he also remembers that that was the intention of the game.

“EH! Wait! This is what you wanted, isn't it? Why am I apologizing? Oi! Are you laughing at me? Fine! Let's play again!” He gives you that confident smirk. “And this time, I'm not pulling away! I'm warning you!”

The second time you play he is definitely more confident. And he keeps his word, as soon as you kiss again, he doesn't pull away. His lips start out tense, but they relax as he forgets about the game and enjoys the kiss.

Of course Rook knows this game! A fun excuse for two lovebirds to kiss? How would he not know something like that? “Oh, and would you like me to have the honor of being your playmate? Mais bien sûr, Trickster! It will be my greatest pleasure.” He smiles enthusiastically.

“May I have the honours?” He asks, holding out his hand for you to hand him the box. He takes one of the biscuit stick and puts it in his mouth, inviting you to bite the other side and start the game.

He plays with a big “innocent” smile on his face. But eventually, as your faces get closer, his eyes change to that hunter's gaze.

When there's only one bite left for your lips to meet, he stops and lets you decide whether to take the last bite or pull away, while he fixes his intense gaze on you, observing you. Yes, he likes to hunt, but part of hunting is also setting traps and waiting for the prey to fall into them.

If you finish the game and kiss him, you will feel the smile he already had grow and the kiss becoming sweeter and more passionate. His hands cupping your face, him bringing his body closer to yours, and then one of the hands slowly leaving your face to end at your lower back.

When he finally releases your lips, he's looking at you with desire. “Très bien Trickster. Your lips are sweeter than the chocolate in the biscuit stick.” He brings his lips closer to yours again. “And now, I so ache to taste that mixture of flavours again. Would you allow me to play this once more with you? There are some sensations I would like to introduce you to, as a token of my gratitude.”

Ooh, Idia knows very well what game you are talking about. Probably for the same reasons that you know it too. “Do you think you're in an Otome game or something?” He mocks you with that smug smile. “And even if you wanted to live that fantasy, why me?” he sulks. ”Do you think I would be the only one to fall for this ‘cause of the games I play? That's a bit mean, don't you think? Or did the association of one thing with the other make you feel pity for me? I'm sure any student with good taste would love to play this with you, you don't need to invite me just because no one would do it with me.”

You tell him, in the form of a scolding, that you want to play with HIM! Not out of pity, but because you like him. And maybe, just maybe, you expressed it quite bluntly because of the adrenaline of being upset with him at the moment.

“Y-y-you like me?! C'mon, why would you?” You two continue to argue until he says something like: “FINE! I'll play with you, but when you lose because you pull away at the first bite, don't blame me.”

He's the one who reaches into the box and takes out a biscuit stick to put in his mouth and points the other end at you with an almost annoyed look on his face. Which looks more like a pout.

You take a bite, he takes another and so on. As your faces get closer, to your surprise, he seems to become more confident. Do you really want to play? He'll show you how a game is won! The heat of competitiveness escalates because of the dangerous mix of stubbornness of the two involved.

When there's only one bite left, it's his turn, and he's already so heated up by the game that he finishes it as if he were making the final strick. Turning your kiss into a surprisingly passionate attack.

But only for a second, until he opened his eyes in disbelief and immediately pulled away with his hair bursting pink, and the paleness of his face contrasting with his blush.

“I-I-I warned you!” He sees you smiling, and his smugness strikes with full force. “Oh! So you weren't just baiting, you really wanted it. Fine then. Next round! And this time I'm not going to chicken out in victory, you hear?”

Malleus is already beaming with joy that you invited him to something. The fact that it's a game only makes him even more excited. Even though he has no idea what game that is. You just explain the rules, that two people eat the same biscuit stick until someone pulls away and that person loses.

“I see. It seems like a simple game to play. But what happens if neither player pulls away?” You decide to respond with: ‘Why don't we play to find out?’ He laughs ans smirks. “Fearless as ever, Child of Man. Are you truly not concerned about what might happen if you withhold information from me? Fu fu. Very well. We shall see how our game ends.”

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point the other side at him for him to bite. He does it with a loving smile, and tries to take bites the same size as yours. He doesn't want to cheat without knowing it.

When there's only one bite left to finish, he stops, not knowing what to do. So you're the one who ends the game and kisses him.

He is surprised, but doesn't break the kiss, instead he maintains it and deepens it. He carefully puts his arms around you to bring you even closer to him. And then brings one of his hands to your cheek. You can feel him controlling his strength to make sure he doesn't hurt you, even though he wants to hug you tighter.

He breaks the kiss unexpectedly. “I am not hurting you, am I?” He asks slightly concerned. “I am learning to control my strength, but I am afraid I might run the risk of burning you with my breathe.” You say you weren't feeling hot at all, or at least not that kind. “That is other of my concerns. I may not hurt you at first, but if I let myself be carried away... I am not aware if the same thing happens to you, I hope so, but I feel the need to show you through actions like this how much I'm in love with you and that could be...”

You tell him that just as he learned to control his strength, he can learn to moderate other things. And perhaps the best way to do that is to continue training with you, little by little. Maybe with another round of that game?

Silver doesn't know this game, but if you’re willing to explain it to him he will be happy to play with you. You explain the rules except the part about what happens if neither player pulls away. But Silver doesn't remember to ask either and you start the game as soon as he understands the basic rules.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point to the other end for him to bite. He does so and plays as you had explained to him, taking a bite whenever it is his turn. His expression remains the same throughout the game... as always.

When there is only one bite left he stops, confused about what he should do and looks at you, or rather, into your eyes, looking for a hint or something like that. And you decide to be the one to end the game and kiss him.

He is surprised, but does not pull away. He just stays like that the whole time you do. Even though his lips are relaxed, it's as if he simply accepts it and does you the favor of staying there.

You're the one who has to break the kiss, probably disappointed that it seems like he didn't reciprocate.

“What's wrong?” He asks, with the same neutral face as always. “You look sad. Did I do something wrong while playing?” You explain to him, in your own way, that it seemed like the kiss was nothing to him, but he didn't pull away either, so you were confused.

“I failed to express myself again.” He says, now with a slightly disappointed expression. “I'm sorry. I... really enjoyed it.” He smiles for a second and then goes back to being disappointed with himself. “But I didn't know what to do, so I just... let you lead, I think. I understand now that I should have taken some kind of initiative. We could play again if you could give me a second chance? Would you be willing to tutor me in how to express myself to you through a kiss?” He smiles at you again. “I would be very grateful.”

Sebek doesn't even know what game you're talking about and he's already complaining about you wanting to play a silly game with him. But fine, he lets you at least explain the game and the rules.

“Just as I thought, a foolish human game. And it is not even productive as a sport to train the body or an intellectual one to train the brain. Why would I waste something as precious as time playing something like that with you? The game is simply two people eating a biscuit to see who can finish it the fastest. FOOLISH!”

You opened your mouth to correct him and say that that wasn't really the goal, but thinking about it, maybe it was a fun way to convince him to play. So you choose to insinuate that he is so slow at eating that he wouldn't be able to beat a mere human in such a competition.

“WHAT?! You believe you're up to my standards in any kind of physical competition? HA! That's what we're going to see, human.” He says smugly. “Pass me one of those biscuit stick, if you please.”

He's the first one to put the biscuit in his mouth, and he even crosses his arms looking at you with a defiant and cocky look.

You start playing, and quickly, without him noticing in time, he kisses you. But only for like half a second before pulling away in the blink of an eye. “AH! YOU DECEIVED ME!” He says with a serious and offended look but a blush on his face. “This is not a game, it's a trap! AND I FELL FOR IT!”

You ask if he didn't like it, and his blush only deepens. “Th-those weren't my words! Do not distort my speech!” So you ask, with a smirk, if he would play with you one more time. “Very well! We shall play again.” He smirks too. “ And this time I will not pull away! Be warned, human!”

As incredible as it may seem, Lilia doesn't know this game well, but he has heard of it. This is a recent thing for very young people, and as that phase of his life had already passed and Silver was never interested in those things, he ended up never having the opportunity to get to know the game.

You see his eyes light up with amusement and interest as you explain the game. “Khee hee hee, sounds like a simple but fun game.” Then, he smirk with a sly look. “I wonder what happens if neither of us pulls away. I assume you were inviting me to play because you are also interested in finding out? Fu fu. Let's play then. Will you do the honours?”

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and Lilia bites the other side. He plays with a cute expression rather than a smug one, probably to make you more comfortable and confident playing. His red gaze can be too penetrating, at least for the first round of the game.

When there is only one bite left to finish, he stops, even if it’s his turn. He wants you to be the one to decide how the game ends.

You take the last bite and kiss him. And now you can feel from his lips that his cute expression has given way to smugness again. He cups your face and deepens the kiss. He is surprisingly (or not) very skilful, so much so that if the kiss were a dance he would certainly be the one guiding it.

And he's the one who breaks the kiss, gently, and gives you a cute smile. “I know I'm irresistible, but let us save some energy for the next rounds, shall we? How many biscuit stick are in the box?”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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caramelkoo · 2 months ago

Text

be still my heart — jjk [one]

the one in which you get a sex dream about the grouchy hockey player you work for.

genre : childhood best friends to frenemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.2k

chapter warnings : strong language, mature, slight smut (because im a tease), reader’s name is Destiny, jungkook is a bit grumpy towards her (she makes him nervous leave my boy alone), fat shaming (not by any of the main characters), oc had daddy issues, mentions of allergy. that’s about it, please let me know if i missed something.

a/n : here it isssssss drumrolls please because im so excited for this. jungkook as a hockey player??? *deep breaths* enjoy my lovely people. you’re so so loved. asks, reblogs and likes are much appreciated. kisses <3

read part two here

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“Babe, you know you're not going to win right? Don't be wasting your breath.” Bella challenges.

You’re sitting on the chair in your office going through the personnel file of the players. Verifying their names with their contact numbers and photographs which, you’re not going to lie, look like mugshots. Jeez, does smiling a little bit cost them? Anyways, once you’re done you close the file and look up at your assistant bickering with her boyfriend. Phone pressed against her ear.

You mime hanging up the call and she lifts her index finger, indicating for you to wait. She throws in words like hmmm, yeah, you don’t know what you’re saying, yeah i love you too. Once she’s done, she drops the phone on the glass table in front of you and leans back in her chair.

“He thinks I will let him get away with anything just because I love him”

You chuckle, “What’s going on?”

“You know, I’ve been wanting a cat for so long I even made a pinterest board for that. Last Sunday he surprised me with one and when I told him that I lowkey manifested it, he was not having it. I even showed him the mood board and I NEVER show it to anyone. Evil eye is real.” she all but cries out.

That’s Bella for you. Highly spiritual and a firm believer of the universe. She claims that everything happens for a reason. She’s like a little ball of sunshine. Ever since you joined the Ice Dominators’ hockey team as a physical therapist, she’s been assisting you and you couldn’t be more thankful seeing the lack of female workers here. Seriously, there's no other female worker here except yourself and Bella which is so diabolical to you.

And it’s not like the men on the hockey team are a bunch of misogynist jerks. On the contrary, they act like they’ve known you for years. It didn't take you long to feel like home here. They are obedient, friendly and pretty nice. Few of them are married with kids while the rest of them remain single. They’re not like a bunch of teenagers, they know what they’re doing.

Except one, what’s his name? Jeon Jungkook. You would describe that man as crude and closed off to a pathological degree. You still remember when you asked him to come to your office so you can look at any possible previous injuries, he lied to your fucking face. Claiming he doesn’t have any when you could clearly see him hobbling sometimes just a tiny bit when he walked away. Years and years of dedication towards your studies have made you capable enough to catch that it is an old injury.

Despite your better judgment, you blamed it on the fact that his team lost the game that day. Poor guy was having a bad day and took it out on you. Big deal.

“Earth to Destiny” Bella waves a hand close to your face and you shake your head as you look at her.

“Leave the poor man alone” You plead and then ask, “Any details about the new player? I’ll have to add it in the file”

“Not yet, as far as I know they’re still contemplating the guy named Park Jimin or something”

That gets you real quick. Park Jimin. The name feels like acid on your tongue .The last game being unsatisfactorily resulted in the federation trading one of the players. It was cruel but was done for the better. Bound to happen sooner or later. You had expected it but what you had not expected was you both sharing a same room, sharing the same air.

“Alright then. We’ll cross that bridge when it’s—”

Knock, knock

“Miss Kim, sorry to interrupt but the manager is asking for you” Taehyung’s head pokes through the door.

You stand, picking up the file and sliding it into the tableside drawer, running a free hand over your scrubs. Bella does the same as she plucks her phone from the table and puts it inside her back pocket.

You look at him. “Sure Tae, thank you for informing”

He flashes you a quick, pretty smile before leaving. Bella turns to you with a worried look on her face.

“What do you think it is for?”

You bite your lip. “I have no idea. I wanna say it's about the new player but who knows?”

You hope it is and as unfortunate as it is for you to discuss him, you will have to hold your own. You know better than to be invited into the manager’s office. Though, judging by the temperament of him you would not predict anything. Last time when he called you, it was about Jeon Jerk, asking you to be more serious about your job as if it was your fault the man spared you the necessary details.

The asshole asked YOU to do your job better by virtue of HIS player not being sweet enough to listen. Maybe, there is indeed a misogynistic asshole going around and it’s the manager. No wonder women don’t volunteer to work for him.

Since, You love your job —god knows you wanna keep doing it— you kept quiet and took every jab he threw at you.

“Wait, Do I have time to pray? Should I pray?” she’s clearly panicking and you pat her on the shoulder.

“Just hope my job is still intact” you say, warily reaching for your purse. You both head out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Miss Kim, have a seat” James nods at the chair before him.

Once you’re settled, he continues, “I asked for you to join me here regarding the upcoming game. Care to fill in about the status of injury assessment?"

You clear your throat, “Absolutely, I was planning on getting on that today”

“Well, I would love for you to do it soon as you know we have a new player in the team with us now”

You jerk, leaning forward. “We do?”

“Yes, and if you can please hurry with the assessment I would be grateful. You can do that right? Not too much of a work for you, eh?”

Someone give him a medal from the way he's trying to hide the venom in his voice.

“Sure I can” you give him a firm nod.

James Adams is an entitled, self centered asshole who thinks he’s above everyone else just because of his position. You reckon he does anything for the team besides talking bullshit. He kind of reminds you of your dad who also has the nasty habit of thinking the world of himself.

You’re all about self love but when that self love turns into chronically demeaning everybody in their close proximity, it boils your blood. This man in front of you is no better than your father. What's that saying? Out of the frying pan into the fire.

So you say nothing further and excuse yourself. You would have barfed in his face if you stayed there a second longer. Actually that's not a very bad idea. Bella is standing outside waiting for you as you close the door behind yourself.

“What did he say?”

You bark, “Bunch of horseshit”

“Typical”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

There is a buzzing noise somewhere around Jungkook. Fuck, his head hurts. He frantically searches for his phone, still not opening his eyes. When he finds it, he slides his thumb on the screen and picks up the call.

“Dude, how big do you want your coffin to be?” He loves his best friend but right now he would rather be sleeping than listen to him bark in his own ear.

He finally squints his eyes open, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Have you looked at the time?” says Taehyung.

“What time- FUCK!!!” he shrieks as he looks at the clock.

Somebody kill him right now. No wait, he’s gonna die either way so why bother. If he didn’t scream loud enough before, he does now. He all but jumps off the bed when he sees the blondie on the other side sleeping like she fucking owns it, wearing nothing but a thong. She must have heard him malfunctioning because soon she stirs, groaning as she slowly wakes up like a Disney princess. Who the heck is she and how did she get in here? Then it comes to him.

“Please Jungkook just take me to your room and fuck me. Show me what those hockey hands are capable of.”

He wants to swallow a fistful of iron nails. Speaking straight from his shoulders, he has made plenty of bad decisions throughout his career and this is not his first time bringing a puck bunny up to his room but it has never come to this. Missing his hockey practice because he was too exhausted to get his sweet ass up and run to the academy.

Taehyung screams from the other side of the line, “Are you there? Hello?”

Shit, he forgot he was on a call.

“I’ll be there soon. Cover for me until then.” With that he presses the red circular button and ends the call with him muttering some curses.

He glances back at the blondie, “Why are you not gone yet?”

She’s looking at him with those fuck me eyes she had last night but right now when he’s well aware of the fact that he’s in hot water, they don’t do shit to him. Coach will have his head on a platter today for sure. Honestly, they wouldn’t have done shit to him if it was not for the great deal of alcohol last night.

“I thought of you as a morning sex person” she twirls a strand of hair with her finger, sitting up now. Her tits hang free and he can see his hickeys decorating her chest.

He wants to laugh. She’s not even close to his type. His type is the woman in blue scrubs with her brunette hair slicked back in a ponytail. His type is the woman who looks like she could be watching grass grow rather than to look at him. His type is the woman who walks into a room and lights it up. His type is the woman who is too bright for him and his mundane personality, who has a face worth millions. His type is Kim Destiny.

“No need to waste your precious time thinking about me. You can go”

He places his phone back on the table and saunters over to the bathroom, not bothering looking back at her. He has boundaries and he intends to keep it that way.

He quickly goes through his routine of taking a shower, making a cup of coffee, sliding into a pair of sweatpants and the Ice Dominator’s jersey with his name on the back. Not in that order, of course.

The girl is thankfully gone by the time he finishes. Once he’s done with his coffee he picks up the car keys and a protein bar from the kitchen counter and heads to the academy hoping his limbs remain intact by the time he’s home.

The Academy is bustling as usual with players keeping themselves busy with hockey and their gym sessions. He heads straight for the rink not even bothering to change into the uniform. He needs to see for himself that everybody is still on the ice. Everything comes after that.

Surprisingly, he sees not a single guy when he reaches there. His heartbeat stops.

“Hey Pixie, where are the boys? Did they already leave?” he asks the brunette kid who looks like he just saw a ghost. Or it’s just Jungkook who he saw.

He shakes his head, “They’re all in the gym. The doc called them earlier, said she had something important to get done with them”

Jungkook gives him a quick thanks and walks towards the gym. What could be so important that she had to call the boys mid practice? Is someone hurt? Is she hurt? His heart leaps in hid throat as he runs. Fuck, please let him be wrong.

The first thing that he sees as he enters the room full of equipment are his teammates. Taehyung and Yoongi are in the corner lifting weights, Namjoon is using the treadmill as he runs on it. The rest of the boys are all scattered around doing their own thing. He still can’t find Destiny anywhere but her assistant, Bella, is talking to Namjoon while holding a file so he lets out a sigh, relieved that nobody is in fact hurt and in need of help.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo on the peni— oh look who’s here. Jeon Jungkook as I live and breathe.”

Taehyung drops the weight on the ground before walking up to him. He’s dressed in a black tee and sports shorts. The man looks good in everything. Bet he’d look in a sack too.

“Whoa!! Why do you look like you wanna kill somebody or wanna get killed? Is everything okay?”

Jungkook lets his face relax, focusing more on the eyebrows which had gone tensed due to his unnecessary anxiety. “Yeah, all’s good. The practice ended early?”

“The practice ended just on time. It’s you who’s late” he pats my shoulder.

He runs his fingers through his hair and walks towards the bench, dropping his bag on it. Taehyung follows him ignoring Yoongi who’s calling him back for the weightlifting.

“Doc wanted to assess our injuries for the last time before our game if you’re curious which, I know you are. You’re always curious about her”

He winks at Jungkook and he punches him on the chest. Taehyung laughs as he rubs the spot.

“Keep your voice down, will you?”

Bella’s voice echoes across the room, “Jeon, you’re up next”

He takes out his water bottle, takes a swig and stands. A wince leaves him as he gets a flashback of the last time he had to face her. It didn’t go very well and he’s sure she hates him now. He would too. After all, he not only talked to her rudely but also lied through his teeth about his injury. It’s pretty old so he had not felt the need to mention it.

He sees a guy coming out of the office just before he’s about to enter. He has brown hair long enough to reach the nape of his neck. Even from where Jungkook’s standing, he can say the man doesn’t reach above his shoulders. Who the fuck is he? Oh wait, he must be the new player that got traded down here. The guy must have sensed him making a hole through his head by the way he’s staring because he’s begins walking towards him with a bright grin.

“Hey man, you must be Jeon Jungkook? Heard a lot about you. I’m Park Jimin” He holds out his hand, asking Jungkook to shake it and he gives it a firm handshake. Word to the wise : never give someone a weak handshake. His grandfather has been asking him to do that ever since he was 15, said it doesn’t leave a strong impression and he’s be lying if he says he was wrong.

He offers Jimin a nod, “Nice to meet you. Excited to get on the rink with you.”

He takes his hand back. “Oh the feeling is mutual but—”

“Jungkook, please join me inside”

Destiny��s voice cuts him off as she looks over to both of them with an eerie expression on her face. Her eyes bounce between them, resting a second longer on Jimin. Does she know him? Do they have a history? Wait, are they a thing? Even if they are, why does it bother him? Jungkook couldn’t care less about the pretty physical therapist who wears her blue scrubs like armor and white crocs with strawberries on them.

He gives Jimin another nod and follows her into the office. Although, he’s not sure if a massage table and a stool resting beside it counts as an office. The room which she works in is much better. This one is just for examinations and massage therapy so he guesses it doesn’t need that much of an upgrade.

She gestures towards the table, “Please sit”

He says nothing and settles himself up, clearing his throat.

“Look I know we got off on the wrong foot last time and it could have gone so much better, but we can still start over right?”

Destiny takes a deep breath, filling her chest with air. She’s wearing her hair in a bun today. It sits at the top of her head and some strands are set loose cascading down her face. God, she’s pretty.

He looks down and back up at her. “Sure”

Her face shows her annoyance with the one word response. He doesn't blame her. He'd be pissed too.

She’s quiet for a moment, “Why don’t you tell me about your knee injury to start with?”

“What are you talking about?”

She sighs, “You know what I’m talking about Jungkook. Please don’t make me work for it. It’s my job to know about your past and present injuries, if any. The manager has already given me crap about it”

He freezes. His hackles rising and his relaxed face long gone.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing”

He levels her with a stern face, “What.did.he.say?”

She’s not obligated to answer him. Hell, she could just slap him in the face and leave but he needs to know what went down with that son of a bitch. When and if she decides to let him in the details and it turns out something wicked, he’s gonna hunt that man down and make his life miserable.

Much to his surprise, she takes a step back and starts talking. "He called me in his office today and," she halts,

"Well let's just say there were some words thrown around which clearly meant he thinks of me as a feather brained bitch"

He might look unbothered from outside but the indignation inside him could just about burn the whole city down. He tries to keep calm and pries some more.

His jaw clenches. "What else?"

Destiny shakes her head, shuffling on her feet. “Jungkook it’s really not that seriou—”

“It is serious. You work for us, you tolerate our asses and in return if we fail to give you the respect which, you deserve by the way cause it’s the bare minimum, we might as well save everyone’s time and money by giving all of this up.”

“Why do you care?” she shakes her head.

He takes a step forward, “Because you— Because you work for us, Destiny. You look out for our bodies, our injuries, our fuckups. Is that not enough?”

She barely reaches his shoulders. It’s cute how she has to crane her neck up in order to look him in the eye. She keeps looking at him for a long minute, searching his face.

“You think I don’t know that? Do you really think I don’t have what it takes to ask for my own dignity?”

He takes a long step back. This conversation was as unforeseen as they come. The room gets filled with heavy silence and he can hear Destiny’s heavy breath. He can tell she’s trying to calm herself as if his words have blindsided her.

Needless to say she’s a tad bit taken aback. Jungkook would be too if someone who never bothered to speak a word to him and when he did, there was nothing pleasant about his tone suddenly started to care.

But that’s where she’s wrong, nothing about his care or concern for her is sudden. He still remembers the day she accidentally drank the almond smoothie Bella brought not knowing the fact that she’s allergic to it. She’d started choking the second it went down her throat. He also remembers how Yoongi injected the epipen against her thigh as she came back to life.

Meanwhile, he stood behind shaking in his goddamn boots. Too scared to let her out of his sight and too pathetic to hold her close. Yeah, he’s not proud of that.

He sighs, “You know that’s not what I meant—”

Namjoon walks inside with a hand towel around his neck “Doc, you about done? The boys are being incorrigible over there. If you don’t hurry, one of them is gonna call a tattoo artist and get their dick tattooed. Right here”

The room falls silent.

“Jesus” she looks over to where the guys are bickering about something, propping her hands on her hips. “Yeah, give me a minute.”

“Sure” and with that he walks away.

She picks up a blue file from the stool, not looking at him. Why is she not looking at him?

“If you don’t want to tell me about your injury right now, that’s fine. Since, I know it’s pretty old and It’s unlikely that you’re gonna get affected by it in the upcoming games, there’s no need to worry. However, I would still suggest you be careful. Anything can happen out there and your knee is in a vulnerable position. Don’t pick unnecessary fights, don’t let the opponent know your weak link.”

She glances at him, dropping the file back to where it was.

“You can go”

Without a preamble, he heads outside, passing Taehyung. He hears him cracking a joke about penis tattoos and piercings with his girlfriend’s name on it. Destiny cracks up and Jungkook wonders if she would have done the same, had he been the one cracking the joke. Only, he doesn’t crack jokes. Not around her at least. It’s not like he's some grumpy bastard who wants nothing to do with anybody around him and thinks of him as omniscient.

There’s just something about Destiny which puts him at loss of words. Knotting his tongue it in such a way where he can’t get an expression out. Only look at her and god, does he look at her. He's not stupid. He knows it’s a crush but she’s like a mirage to him. She’s unreachable, forbidden and so fucking beautiful.

Does he want to make her his? Yes, Is he going to risk his career and hers over it? Absolutely not. So, he makes use of the only right nobody can take away from him. Not even her. Admire her from afar. Fantasize more about tasting her, licking her slender neck and worshipping the ground that she walks on and one day if she lets him, Jungkook will do anything to turn all of that into reality.

He finds Yoongi seated on of the benches, scrolling on his phone.

Facing him, Jungkook speaks in a low voice. "Do you have any idea where James is?"

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

Never have you ever wanted to run away as much as you did when you saw Jimin in front of yourself, standing all tall and proud. You had wished it to be a dream, wished you just had a nightmare about him joining the same team you happen to work with but reality is a goddamn bitch and it bites hard when it does. He had grown out his hair longer but he still has the same smile, same eyes and the same charm he used on you back then. Park Jimin is a man people don’t ever forget once they see him. He has an aura which traps everyone so hard they can never escape. How do you know? You have been a victim yourself.

You meticulously go through the consequences and eventualities of being in the same room as him again. You seeing him everyday and him reminding you of every single detail you have tried so hard forgetting about, the boys finding out about you both and putting you through the wringer or worse, him. The possibilities are endless and you feel the sudden urge to square everything with him.

Contrary to what you had thought, he reacted pretty normally when he saw you as if somebody had already told him about you. You had expected him to get shocked or at the very least pretend to be shocked.

Having said that, he just gave you a single nod as if you're someone he passes by every morning at the park. Are you this forgettable? Are you someone people just brush aside like that? Your father’s words echo in your ears like loud drums,

“You know, nobody will love you if you keep looking like this. Eat less”

“Girl, do you ever stop eating? Every time I see you, you're stuffing something in that mouth of yours!!”

“Don’t come running back at me when no guy gives a shit about you”

You were 10 and he was an asshole. He still is.

Thanks to him, you now have a tendency to cook when you're stressed over anything. It brings you comfort and diverts your mind from the excessive overthinking. You would go bald if it puts the voices into silent mode.

After already wasting half of your life speculating what to eat, counting calories and whatnot, you came to the terms that you can’t actually operate that way and began eating whatever the fuck you wanted. Yet still, you need to go a long way in order to fully love yourself and your body. It's a journey and you're moving ahead step by step. One day at a time.

One would even say you're hot. You have received compliments from several people over the course of time except you don’t have a thigh gap, your arms jiggle and you also happen to have a love handle. You would have adored them if it wasn’t for your dad making you feel shitty about having them.

A knock on your door stops you midway as you're kneading the dough. Biscuit runs over to you, jumping on the counter.

“Coming”

The knock comes back again, this time slightly louder.

“Oh my god wait I’m coming”

The door swings open and you gasp. “Mina?”

She passes by you, dragging her suitcase along with her.

“Hey bestie”

You close the door and follow her further into the hall. “What’s going on? What’s with the suitcase?”

Your best friend’s sudden arrival must have caught you by slight surprise but your cat is rather pleased to see her. Traitor. She starts clawing at her feet excitedly.

“What a good girl you are? Yes, you are” Mina coos at her and then glances up at you from where she has biscuit nestled in her lap,

“I need a place to live for a few days because my shitty boss kept rejecting all my articles and I really wanna bring her something worth the front page. Apparently, writing about the famous coffee shop around the corner and their secret ingredient being maple syrup wasn’t good enough.”

You round the counter and continue kneading the dough for your strawberry pie. It’s not unlikely for Mina to show up unannounced. In fact, she has done that plenty of times but the suitcase was never involved. This one is new.

“So you decided to barge in here without even asking?” You tease.

She flashes you a dramatic look. “Look at us, Destiny. Aren’t we the same girls who giggled about living together after college? With matching slippers and movie marathons?”

“Okay okay you dramatic bitch. How long are you here for?”

Biscuit runs to do her business and she gets up, setting her suitcase to the side.

She sighs, “Not sure. As long as it takes me to come up with a new topic to write about–HEY— why don’t I just write on the hockey team you work with? What are they called? Ice…ice”

“Ice Dominators” you fill in for her.

She slaps her thigh. “That’s the one”

You shrug, “I mean you can, but you’ll have to call in on the coach first. He operates everything inside and outside the team”

Coach Ian is too nice to turn her request down. He’s one of the most genuine people in the federation. Maybe this is why the team is so strong and united. He respects every single boy and receives it tenfold. It's a mutual thing.

“Shit, How come I didn’t think about that” she bites her lip, her enthusiasm replaced by nervousness.

“Don’t worry. He won’t make you work for it. Ian is as nice as they come” you assure.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out. As you watch, she opens your fridge, taking out the box of frozen blueberries and pops one into her mouth.

“Do you want me to give you a hand?” she mumbles while chewing.

You point towards the bathroom, “Go and take a shower, right now. You stinky”

You duck the blueberry she throws your way, laughing as you do. Giving your cheek one last kiss, she excuses herself.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Warm hands roam over your thigh, squeezing them. You muffle your moan with your palm and take every thrust.

“Yeah, you like that? You like how I’m pounding into this ass right now?”

You gasp.

“Such a good girl” he praises.

The man behind you presses a kiss to your naked shoulder as he rasps in your ears, “Were you walking around all day dripping for me?”

He pulls his cock out and thrusts again. You meet him with equal passion and hunger.

“Tell me”

You nod.

“I need your words, Destiny”

You cry out, “Yes Oh god, Yes. I wanted you in me so bad”

He cups your pussy and rubs your clit with his palm until you're rolling your eyes to the back of your head and squirming. Thrust after thrust he brings you to your sweet release while talking dirty things in your ear. You're about to melt into a puddle of goo. He’s got you totally at his mercy.

“So beautiful like this. Taking my cock so well huh?”

“Ahh it feels so good, right there. Just right there, don’t stop”

He bites down your shoulder, “Come for me and let everyone outside hear the name you’re screaming, you dirty whore”

Your heartbeat picks up as you squeeze him with the tight ring of muscle, orgasm crashing over.

“FUCK. Oh my god Jungkook!!”

Your eyes fling open and you sit up so fast your head starts spinning. Everything around you is pitch black. Wait, where am you?

Mina is at your side in an instant, “Destiny, are you okay babe?”

You look around and release a sigh of relief. You run your fingers through your hair, ruffling them.

“Yeah um… I’m fine. It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one hell of a dream where you were getting fucked into oblivion by your player. You're not even going to lie and say that you didn’t like it. C’mon you're a woman of needs, it’s just that, him fulfilling those needs was not on the cards for you even if it wasn't real.

You check the time on your phone and wince at the bright light flashing up at you. It’s 2:45 am and you just had a back breaking sex dream about a man who you want nothing to do with. Who, as beautiful as he is, annoys the hell out of you with those one word replies and grumpy face. An edgy feeling threatens to rise.

Oh god it’s going to be awkward now. It’s only normal to walk on eggshells around someone people have these sort of dreams about. You have read your fair share of books where the female character gets a sex dream about a man and then they don’t talk to each other for the rest of their lives. Okay, that's a bit of a stretch but it might as well not be.

Yeah, you admit you guys don’t talk to each other a lot as it is, or are longtime best friends tiptoeing around their feelings, but you're afraid you're gonna have to ignore him forever for the sake of your own sanity.

I’m so fucked. You think.

tags - @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw

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theonottsbxtch · 4 months ago

Note

Can we get oscar x teacher smau since school is starting over here in America?

Professor Piastri? | OP81

an: thank you so much for this request! i had so much fun with it. i had to remake this three times because tumblr kept deleting my progress 🫠. good luck with the start of school soon!

fc: pinterest

requests: open

messages between oscar and yn

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, logansargeant, mclaren and 983,836 others

only 34 days left 🙃

*tap to load comments*

userone: I WANT MORE B&W PHTOOS 💳💥💳💥

usertwo: what is op81 doing in a library?

landonorris: summer break is in 15 days you muppet

oscarpiastri: i know, i can count

landonorris: right and i’m world champion

userthree: i need more photographer oscar content

logansargeant: i swear it was 28 days the other day?

oscarpiastri: no ☹️

userfour: what does logan know🤨

userfive: me 🤝 oscar, both having important things in 34 days

usersix: ooh what’s yours!!

userfive: school break!

twitter

imessage between oscar and yn

ynprivate

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 19 others

getting to see the hubby live at work 🥰

*tap to load more comments*

yourbestfriend: HOW DOES IT FEEL FHAT OSCAR PIASTRI, YOUR HUSBAND, IS NOW A GRAND PRIX WINNER

ynprivate: SHUT UP SHUT SHUT UP I CANT EVEN CELEBRATE WITH HIM

oscarpiastri: you can celebrate with me in the hotel room

logansargeant: ew get a room

oscarpiastri: i’m trying to

yourcoworker: THIS is why you didn’t want to meet up for coffee and mark papers?!

ynprivate: 😅🤭

logansargeant: my favourite secret wag i swear

ynprivate: how many secret wags do you know?

logansargeant: 🤐

twitter

f1wags

liked by userone, usertwo, userthree and 981,264 others

BREAKING‼️

the shock. the disbelief. the dismay for some. oscar piastri married?! today the world is shocked to find out that one of the grid’s most charming drivers has been secretly married for years! that’s right, married. the news was bought to us after a screenshot was leaked on twitter from yn (his wife)‘s private instagram where she was seen posting him with the caption “getting to see the hubby live at work🥰”. the woman identified as yn ln, still goes by her maiden name was a girl he met while at boarding school.

yn ln is currently a teacher in england, and the couple has managed to keep their relationship entirely under the radar. sources close to the couple reveal that they chose to keep their marriage private due to her career in education, wanting to protect her from the intense public scrutiny that comes with being associated with an f1 star (hence the reason she has kept her maiden name)

the screenshot, which shows a sweet picture of oscar looking into her camera, has sent the f1 fandom into spirals!

despite the sudden exposure, oscar and his wife have yet to comment on the leak. the secrecy surrounding around their relationship only adds to the intrigue, leaving fans and media outlets waiting with bated breath.

who is oscar piastri and what more is he hiding?

*photos credit to yn’s instagram*

oscarpiastri

liked by ynprivate, landonorris, logansargeant and 923,746 others

cats out the bag now, mrs piastri everyone. only 11 more days until her summer break!

*tap to load more comments*

userone: that’s what the countdown was about 🥹

usertwo: oh hell nawh they both hot

userthree: how long have they been together what?!

logansargeant: married for two years but together for much longer, i’ve known since 2019☺️

landonorris: oscar we are NOT friends

oscarpiastri: i am sorry, i had to respect the mrs’ wishes

landonorris: LOGAN HAS KNOWN FOR SIX YEARS THAT YOU HAD A PARTNER

landonorris: i was low-key starting to think you were gay mate

ynprivate: i’m so sorry!! i just didn’t want work and private life to get mixed up

landonorris: i guess i can somewhat forgive him

ynprivate: yay! maybe we can meet for coffee to get to know you better, osc talks so much about you :)

landonorris: he talks about me 🥹

userfour: i think they broke the internet for good this time

userfive: helpppp lando in the comments 😭😭

usersix: imagine your teacher being oscar piastri’s WIFE

userseven: i hope nicole didn’t find out through instagram

nicolepiastri: no, but i did find out he got engaged three weeks after it happened!

alex_albon: @/landonorris take this L and hold it you dweeb

landonorris: 🖕🖕

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vanillakook · 4 months ago

Text

THE ROOMMATE ꔫ - JJK

synopsis: your hot roommate brings out the dirtiest side of you

parings: roommate!jk x pervy!roommate!reader

warnings: mature language and content, spying, solo masturbation, lewd thoughts, slight jealously, underwear stealing, abnormal behavior (on both parts) mentions of pillow humping, wet dreams, fantasies, etc.

genre: smut, drabble

word count: 660

a/n: quick little one shot as a thank you for all the love you’ve been showing me, i promise to keep writing the filthiest works for you guys <3

pervy!roommate!reader who has jungkook completely fooled. he thinks his cute housemate is so innocent. what he doesn’t know is that you’re a deranged slut that’s been yearning for him since you’ve laid eyes on him.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s attraction to jungkook starts off as something sane. your behavior progresses into stuffing your pussy to the thought of him, stealing his used boxers and trotting around in them when he’s not home, and staining the same pillows he lays his head on with your sticky cum.

pervy!roommate!reader who goes brain dead whenever jungkook is speaking to her. whether it’s about your half of the rent or what groceries you want him to go get, the only thing you can think about his having his dick down your throat.

pervy!roommate!reader who wakes up with her panties clinging to her pussy from the wet dreams she has about jungkook, desperately wishing to make the images of getting destroyed by him into a reality. every morning is a constant routine of rubbing your sensitive clit, hoping he’s listening to your soft cries for him on the other side.

pervy!roommate!reader who feels like she hits the jackpot when she catches jungkook fisting his huge cock in his room. the door is cracked open just the right amount to where she can spy. it’s so wrong to invade his privacy, she has time to walk away, to shut his door even. instead she feels her fingers creeping up to cup her breast, rolling it around while her teeth sink into her bottom lip. this could be her moment, her chance to finally relieve his dick that looks like it’ll burst any second if it doesn’t have a cunt squeezing around it. instead she falls back, rubbing one out while watching him before going back to bed.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s visibly upset every time jungkook brings a girl over, dramatically slamming her bedroom door and making noises around the apartment to disturb him and his company. suddenly she needs jungkook for every little issue she has which causes his little hookup to dip out on him. he’d be more upset if his roommate wasn’t enough eye candy for him to get off to alone. either way he’s satisfied.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s scent on jungkooks pillows doesn’t go unnoticed. he’s breathing you in every night in the spot where he lays his head. your aromas make his dick stand up, aching and hurting from neglect. he could call someone over, he has girls lined up and waiting for him. yet the only thing that sounds satisfying is his pretty little roommate. he thinks he’s going crazy when he hears your small pants and moans of his name with the wet, sloppy sounds of your cunt following after.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s panties start going missing and popping up with globs of white substances in them and notices her roommate avoiding her more often. jungkook is suddenly too busy to hang out and too busy to have dinner with you. jungkook starts getting risky, leaving his door open while pumping his cock. he only does it when you’re not home, just in hopes that you’d walk in and drop to your knees when you saw him struggling to cum without your touch.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s nerves are running rampant at her and jungkooks game of cat and mouse. when he sends her a “we need to talk” text various scenarios and thoughts begin to go through her head. yet nothing could prepare her for jungkook’s distressed expression as she sits in front of him on the sofa and he runs a tired hand over his face while hovering over her. her eyes widen, watching the bulge in his pants grow to an inhuman size. and she sure as hell wasn’t prepared for his next proposal, something she thought she’d never hear from him.

“doll, as much as i love licking your slick off my pillows how about you use my cock from now on? yeah?”

masterlist

most recent work

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enha-cafe · 1 year ago

Text

I <3 NERDS (c.s)

PAIRING: nerd! soobin x afab! reader SUMMARY: just y/n not expecting nerd! soobin to be a sex god inspired by this very long thought with @gyuthmics WARNINGS: smut, basically no plot, afab! reader, switch! reader, dom! soobin, big dick! soobin, oral (m rec.), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (please it's soobin i can't not include it), usage of the words "slut", "baby", "good girl", snowballing, literally like one spank WORD COUNT: 1.7k

you thought playing around with the cute little nerd in your class would be funny. he was absolutely harmless, you thought, blushing whenever you made eye contact with him and always watching anime in the back of class. all you wanted was to make him your partner for the project and watch him get flustered at every moment. so now you're left wondering: is this really happening? are you really getting the best dick of your life from some guy who has openly said his favorite anime is bunny girl senpai? how did he manage to have you crying and screaming his name?

you remember how his cheeks and ears reddened when you invited him over to your place to "work on the project," when you just wanted to see how long it'd take before he'd beg for your pussy.

oh, how you've missed having someone to play with. you wore a low-cut tank and shorts, leaving little to the imagination. gently patting the spot on your bed, inviting him to sit beside you. relishing the way he stutters each time he looks to talk to you. constantly looking up at him with doe eyes, brushing your shoulder against his, and pushing your breasts into his arms. how badly you're just waiting for him to snap. look at you through those overgrown bangs and grovel for you to give him a sweet release.

he did break, just not in the way you were hoping.

it was a swift motion, with soobin taking you by the wrists and pinning you down. "well, someone is acting like a little slut today." never would you have thought this absolute nerd would have you at such a loss for words. those words make you have to take a pause and leave your mouth slightly agape. "what's wrong? cat got your tongue?" he says this, cocking his head to the side and chuckling.

you're completely lost as to who the man in front of you is; this isn't the nerd you were toying with all day. this is some sort of demon you decided to summon. "c'mon, baby, use your words. i know you want this; you've been messing with me all day. don't back out now." he says, staring into your eyes, and all you can do is let out a broken please. "that's what i like to hear," he says right before planting a kiss on your lips.

you're needy for him, and soobin can't help but chuckle. the way you try to grind down on his knee between your legs, he thinks it's cute how you're slowly becoming putty in his hands. he wants to—no, he needs to ruin you. he's having to hold himself back, and you can tell. for now, he's content with just the taste of you. moving his lips from yours to your neck, you can't help but let out a moan and squirm more. "you're absolutely insatiable; tell me what you want." you're not sure how, but he's already managed to make your head dizzy. "i need you—i need you inside me, please, soobin." you can feel him smile into your neck as you plead. "of course, baby, but i need something from you first." he says letting your wrists free and using his other hand to unbutton his jeans. "get on your knees and suck my cock like the slut you are."

you feel like a woman possessed by how quickly you get on your knees for him. staring up at him in anticipation and hoping he won't notice as you rub your thighs together. when he pulls his pants down, it almost hits you in the face, and you can't help but stare. he's huge. "soobin, you're going to break me." he nearly throws his head back and laughs, "i thought sluts like you were supposed to like big cocks. c'mon, don't be shy now. suck." his order sends a jolt of electricity down to your core.

opening your mouth, you try to take as much of him as possible, and what you can't, you wrap your hands around. bobbing your head up and down his cock, your eyes never leave him. the way his breathing becomes gradually more labored as he groans. his eyes are hungry as he looks at you. "good girl, i knew you could take me," he tells you, and you can feel your walls clench around nothing, and you can't help but moan around him. it's enough to make him curse and grab the back of your head. you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he pushes your head down. feeling his head hit the back of your throat and his cock twitch. you barely have a second before you feel hot cum spill down your throat.

soobin pulls you off his cock and places a hand under your chin. forcing you to stare up at him through those thick-rimmed glasses and overgrown fringe. he pulls you up to him and forces his lips on yours. swapping his cum between you before you finally decide to swallow it. "you're nasty," he says before giving you a light spank, making you let out a yelp. he grabs you by the hand and guides you back to the bed.

his eyes are blown with lust, and suddenly your clothes feel too hot for your skin. you're telling him to pull off your shorts as you tear your top off, and you're left in only your underwear. soobin is quick to start marking and playing with your breasts, telling you how perfect they are. feeling his right hand on your clothed core, you can't help but grind against it. he notices the way you grind on his hand and moves your panties to the side. watching how drenched you are, he decides to dip two of his long fingers inside you, and it has you reeling.

feeling his fingers inside your gummy walls is enough to have you screaming for him. he reaches places your pathetic fingers could never reach. he's so mean and fast with them too; the noises made by them are so lewd, you'd be embarrassed if you weren't enjoying it so much. you think you can't get enough of his fingers until he uses his thumb to circle your clit. the stimulation is so great that he has you chanting his name. his name is dripping like honey from your lips as you try your hardest not to cum. soobin knows you're close; how couldn't he? with your walls fluttering against his fingers and your thighs trembling. "it's okay, baby, you can let go for me," and it's almost as though that was the final piece of a puzzle. you're suddenly seeing stars, and your walls are convulsing around him as you cum.

"is that all you can take, or do you want more?" he asks you as if he doesn't already know your answer. without a second thought, you're screaming once more for him, "please, soobin, i need you inside of me—going insane—need your big cock inside me." you're so needy and desperate for him, it's borderline pathetic. "okay, let me just grab a condom," he says, going to get up, but you grab his arm, pulling him back in to stop him. "no, i need you raw." such a simple sentence, but it's enough to make his cock twitch. "you really are insatiable," and his lips dive back into yours.

as you kiss, you can feel him lining himself up with you, his large cockhead teasing your opening. moaning into the kiss and telling him to put it in already, only making him smile against your lips. when he slips into you, you swear you see heaven. the stretch like nothing you've ever felt before; he's so big, and he's already hitting you so deep. when he bottoms out, you're already grinding against him, begging him to move. soobin is more than happy to oblige, digging his fingers into your hips and slowly pulling out of you, only to ram back in.

you think he'd be rough with just that one thrust, but he continues to be hard and fast. as he thrusts his cock inside of you, you can't help but stare. he makes your head fuzzy, and all you can do is lay there and moan. feeling him lay his hand over your stomach and press down has you clenching around him, making him twitch deep inside you. "god, you're so tight, and you take me so well, like you were made for me," he says. all you can do is moan at his praises, making you teeter closer to the edge.

his groans sound like heaven, his glasses are foggy, and his fringe slightly hangs over them. you don't think you've ever seen anyone look hotter. you don't realize how long you've been staring until he says something like, "see something you like?" and in that moment, you realize you're drunk on him, and you don't ever want to get sober. he chuckles and gives you a smirk right before playing with your clit again. "i can feel the way you're clenching down on me; I know you're close." he's acting almost as if he isn't close, too. "please, soobin, i need to cum—need you to fill me up too, please, soobin." you punctuate your words by wrapping your legs around his waist.

his thrusts become sloppier, and his head falls into the crook of your neck. feeling his hot breath as he curses. "cum for me, y/n" it's not a request but an order. your legs tighten around him as you cum, locking him in as you let out loud moans while your body is wracked with pleasure. you barely get a second to recover before soobin's hot cum floods your insides. there's so much, and you don't think you've ever felt fuller than you do in this moment. after he slips out, you can feel his cum starting to dribble out of your hole.

your head is fuzzy, and you're barely coherent when soobin tells you he's going to grab something to clean you up. however, even with the burn in your legs, gasping for air, and cum spilling from your hole. you can't help but think there's no way this absolute sex god of a man is a damn nerd.

but god, you love nerds.

perma tag list: @hoonslutt @moonlighthoon @love4heejayke @jouliejihan @majestyjun @yizhoutv

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #choi soobin smut #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt drabbles #txt reactions #soobin imagines #choi soobin x reader #soobin x reader

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kookooluvr · 7 days ago

Text

Teach Me How To Love - Part 1

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

warnings: fwb should be warning in itself, jungkook is a simp and a hot nerdy professor (yummm), oc has a tabby cat named miso, bam makes his first appearance, jungkook has a big ol' crush on oc, some unrequited romantic feelings (?) we're not sure yet, explicit sexual content; making out, kook has heart eyes for oc's boobs, five second strip show, like a split second of male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), a teeny wheeny bit of fingering, oc rides that thang like a cowgirl, unprotected sex (oc is on birth control and they're both clean), plus some angsty vibes at the end :(((

word count: 3.5k

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

author's note: part 1 is out my dudes !!! 😭😭 i hope you enjoy this little introduction to jungkook and oc, and i can't wait to start exploring their dynamic a little more in depth in the next parts!! i'm so excited to go on this journey with you all, so pls make sure to follow, reblog, and send me an ask if you want to chat about these cuties 🤪 part 2 coming soon !

find tmhtl masterlist here

It's the end of the day and Jungkook is on his way out, heading home after an exhausting day at the university. He walks down the corridor, his phone in hand, his eyes trained to his phone as he checks his emails.

You step out of your office, shutting the door and straightening your bag on your shoulder. You dig through it for your office keys, locking up once you find them. He looks up from his phone for a second and spots you, a smile tugging at his lips as he pockets his phone and walks over to you.

He leans against the wall next to your door, arms crossed, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Hey,” he murmurs with a little grin.

“Hey, Kook,” you greet softly, walking away to head home, Jungkook peeling himself off the wall to walk next to you.

“Long day?” he asks with a sympathetic smile.

You love your job, really, you do. But some days are draining and dealing with young adults who don't even know how to reference their sources for an essay or spell parliament properly can actually drive you to drink. “Mm, thank God the day's over,” you chuckle, looking over at him as you walk down the stone walkway together, the sun slowly starting to set on campus.

He chuckles, looking over at you to catch the way the golden hour light casts a pretty yellowish-orange glow over your skin, his eyes quickly diverting down to the ground to stop himself from staring, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Hey, uhm...if you don't have any plans tonight, do you maybe wanna come over to my place?” he asks, feeling like an awkward teenager with a crush every time he asks you that, even if he's done it ten dozen times by now. He knows why he's inviting you over. You know why he's inviting you over.

“Yeah, sure,” you say casually, heading in the direction of the parking lot to get to your car. You see it in its usual parking spot, right next to his, just like it is every day, like a silent declaration that you're a package deal.

His heart really shouldn't do that weird thump-thump thing that it does every time you agree to come over, but it does, and it might just be heart disease, but he is yet to get it under control. “Cool...cool...Is 7 okay for you?” he asks, taking out his keys as he approaches his car, leaning against the driver's door with a little smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I'll just go home and change out of these clothes and feed Miso then I'll head over,” you murmur absentmindedly while you dig through your bag for your car keys, searching through the endless pit of earphones, a tangled phone charger, lip liner, lip gloss, and ten thousand receipts for things you don't even remember buying. He watches you with a faint smile, knowing how messy that bag is, but also knowing that if he lectures you about it, your response will be, 'you don't get it, you're not a woman' so he minds his business and stands by patiently.

“You can go, I'll manage,” you mumble, your eyebrows furrowed, a soft pout on your lips as you rummage through the leather bag. He chuckles and cocks his head to the side, finding it quite amusing. “You sure? I feel like I could find the cure for cancer before you find your keys in that thing.”

“You should quit teaching and go into comedy,” you mutter dryly, finally finding the damn keys. “Ha. Found it,” you quip, smiling sarcastically before unlocking the car. He shakes his head with a soft smile, rolling his eyes as he gets in his own car. He'll get you back for your sass, but he knows that his 'punishments’ feel more like a reward than anything else.

You go home and feed Miso, the grey tabby lounging around like she's the queen of your apartment, completely unbothered that you're only staying for a little while before eventually leaving again to get dicked down hang out with Jungkook. You put on some comfortable sweats and give her a few kisses and cuddles before heading over to Jungkook's place.

This is a regular thing for you guys. You remain professional at work, well, as professional as two people who are hooking up can be, and then you go over to his place, or vice versa, and sometimes there's wine, sometimes there's dinner, sometimes you go straight to the sexy part, or sometimes there's no sexy part at all because one of you just wants to talk or watch a movie. It works for you. It's easy. It feels good. Really good.

He's a good friend. He's kind, he's a good listener, and he's all those nice, sweet, lovely things. He's also really good in bed, which is always a bonus in a...friend.

Good friends offer to drive you home from the club when you've had one too many to drink. Good friends support you in times of need. Good friends go down on you until your legs shake. That's just how it is.

"Slow down, you're gonna choke," he chuckles, watching you stuff your face with Indian takeout. It's like a competitive sport when the two of you eat dinner, which is one of the things you like most about hanging out with Jungkook. There is no pressure to be perfect. You can act the way you really want to and not feel scrutinized for it. Maybe it's just because his big fat crush has completely tinted the way he sees you, but he'd happily watch you pig out if it means he gets to spend time alone with you.

“I thought you like it when I choke a little bit,” you tease, just wanting to get a reaction out of him, and that's exactly what you get. He nearly chokes on his food, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide as he looks over at you.

“Jesus Christ, y/n, you can't just say stuff like that,” he coughs, trying to compose himself, roughly clearing his throat to not die via chicken biryani. It’s quite a strange thing how he can go from this to a sex god in bed, not that it's anything for you to complain about.

Jungkook does the dishes after dinner which allows you to enjoy some alone time with Bam. The brown doberman plops down on the couch, practically begging to be cuddled. He’s always been quite fond of you, since Jungkook adopted him three years ago. He’s the sweetest boy. He loves being loved on, much like his father.

Jungkook watches as you give Bam “lovies” as you call it, the dog absolutely basking in the attention.

“I’m starting to think he likes you more than me,” Jungkook jokes with a scoff, smiling as Bam does his ‘sit/lay down’ tricks for you. What a showoff.

“He’s never gotten that comfortable with anyone who isn't me,” he murmurs with a soft smile, watching the two excited puppies in his living room. “He gets really excited when he knows you're coming over.”

“Bam, cut it out. I’m Miso’s mommy, she’s going to get jealous,” you playfully scold him, although the scratches you give him say otherwise. He’s just a doe-eyed, dark-haired, soft-hearted boy. Again, much like his father.

Jungkook finishes drying the dishes and practically shoves Bam out the way to get the same attention from you. He lays down on the couch with his head in your lap and you already know what he wants. You lightly scratch his scalp, watching his eyes flutter shut, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, relishing in the feeling of your fingers in his hair. Sex is great, but there's something about moments like this that just makes him want to get down on his knees and give you whatever you want, whenever you want it.

“I think Bam-ie’s upset,” you chuckle, looking over at him with a soft, apologetic smile, his father looking anything but sorry. He chuckles as he watches Bam quietly stroll back to the bedroom, his eyes fluttering shut once more when you do that thing with your nails that sends shivers down his spine.

“He’ll live,” he scoffs, wincing when you give his hair a firm tug, his lips puffing up into a pout.

You don't really remember how exactly you ended up on his lap with your hands in his hair and his lips peppering your jaw and neck with gentle, tender kisses, but you know that it feels good.

“We’ve been so busy lately, we’ve barely gotten a chance to do this,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands trailing up your thighs to rest at your hips.

You scoff, your eyes fluttering shut as he sucks on that sweet spot behind your ear. It's true. You’ve both been so busy with work that you haven't hung out or had sex in two weeks.

“I know. I’ve been relying on my vibrator.”

He feels a shrill of heat run through him at the thought of you pleasuring yourself, as if he hasn't already seen the actual thing live in-person.

“Yeah? Is he better than me?” he teases with a little grin, pressing soft kisses to your pulse point.

“First of all; she, and I mean…she gets the job done,” you tease, not wanting to outright admit that nothing and no one can make you cum the way he does.

“You couldn't have just said no?” he chuckles, leaning his head back to rest against the back of the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at you. “Maybe I should get myself a toy too…y’know, for when you're too busy,” he teases with a lazy grin.

“What, like a pocket pussy?” you laugh.

“Mm. Something like that.”

“I’d prefer you to be inside me instead of a fake vagina,” you quip, leaning in to press a feather-like kiss to his lips, just testing the waters a bit. “Are you gonna think of me when you use it?” you tease, batting your lashes the way you know makes him go a little weak.

He swallows thickly, nodding like he’s hypnotised. “Of course I’d think of you,” he murmurs, his hips bucking up in a sad attempt to get you to give him some friction. “It wouldn't compare to you though. Nothing compares to you.” His voice is soft and airy, sounding almost pathetic.

You feel a little smile tug at your lips, your resolve slowly slipping. He’s so open about his thoughts and feelings. He’s not afraid to be vulnerable and lay it all out there, even if it is just sex.

His heart does that stupid thump-thump thing again at the sight of your smile, but now really isn't the time to psychoanalyse that, so he pushes that thought away for later.

“Can you take this off for me?” He slips his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your sweatshirt, getting a bit antsy to see more of you.

He’s never really given it too much thought whether he’s an ass or tits typa guy, but when you pull your sweatshirt over your head and his eyes land on that black bra with the little pink bows, the one that you know he likes so much, he swears he’s never seen anything prettier.

“God, I love these.” He leans his head forward to press soft little kisses to the tops of your breasts, his hands trailing up the sides of your ribs. “My pretty girls.”

Your eyes fall shut, the butterflies starting to flutter in the pit of your stomach. Sex with him is so soft and sweet. He says nice things and he makes you feel good, both physically and emotionally, and that makes your anxiety spike just a tad, so you deflect.

“Do you always make conversation with a woman’s tits before you stick it in her or…?”

He chuckles, and it's deep and warm, a little comforting, like if hot cocoa had a voice.

“Take this off. Wanna see them,” he murmurs softly, lightly tugging at the strap of your bra to let it snap back against your skin.

You roll your eyes, but the faint smile on your lips tells him that you're more than happy to oblige. You reach back to unclasp it, letting the material fall from your body, his eyes growing a shade darker at your exposed skin.

He swirls his tongue around a nipple and sucks before repeating the same thing on the other side, giving both breasts the attention they deserve. His eyes flutter shut like he wants to savour every little moment with you.

You reluctantly get up off his lap, and before he can protest, you're discarding the rest of your clothing, sliding your sweatpants down your legs. He makes quick work of following your lead by removing his shirt and pants, his boxers following quickly behind.

You make a little show of removing your panties, and you would normally be embarrassed by the amount of moisture that has already accumulated inside the flimsy material, but right now, all you can focus on is his hand giving his cock a few lazy strokes while he watches you undress for him.

“C’mere.” He spreads his legs a bit, his cock already almost fully hard, the tip slowly turning a light shade of pink. You'd never thought of a cock as 'pretty' before, but damn, it's pretty.

You do as he says without a single protest or complaint, your pussy practically throbbing at the sight of him. Oh, how wonderful it is to be his friend.

You get down on your knees in front of him, his eyelids hanging low as he looks down at you, his hand pumping his cock.

You pride yourself in being good at oral sex, but it's never been something you particularly love doing. That is, until you started hooking up with Jungkook. Sometimes he’ll just be doing something as simple as watching a show on tv, and you’ll be on your knees with your hair up and his cock hitting the back of your throat. It's everything, from the sounds he makes, to the way his eyebrows furrow and his lips part in ecstasy, that makes it so enjoyable.

You take over for him, giving his cock a few strokes before swirling your tongue around the head, pulling a deep groan from the back of his throat. You start sucking, working your way down his length, occasionally looking up to see that look on his face that makes your pussy clench. He rests his hand at the back of your head, not applying pressure, just wanting to feel more of you as you bob your head up and down a few times.

You give the tip some attention, then go all the way down to the base so that your nose just lightly brushes against his pelvis, then back up again, keeping a nice rhythm. His groans, paired with the way his stomach tenses every time you take him down to the base, is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

“Fuck…baby, stop, please. Don't wanna cum too early,” he murmurs hoarsely, reaching for you to get up and straddle his lap. Your hips slide back and forth, your slick coating him, his dick glistening under the low light of the living room lamp.

“Already? Jesus, Jungkook, have some self-respect.” You can't help but tease him a bit, even in a moment like this, where you're in no position to be making fun of his desperation when you’re as wet as you are.

He scoffs, his hand disappearing between your legs, his middle and ring finger rubbing slow circles over your clit before sliding back to sink into your sopping entrance, shutting you right up.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he teases with a lazy little grin, his fingers slowly pumping in and out, your wetness allowing him to move them without any resistance.

“Don't speak about my daughter at a time like this.”

His laughter gets cut off by your lips crashing into his, his fingers slipping out of you as you lift your hips to align the tip of his cock with your entrance.

“Want me to sit on it?”

“Yeah.” His voice is breathless as the anticipation slowly builds in his gut. No matter how many times you have sex, he’ll never get tired of that rush of adrenaline that flows through him in that moment right before he slides in.

“Ask nicely.”

“Y/n, come on,” he laughs half-heartedly, tilting his head back against the couch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“Ask me nicely and I’ll sit down, Kook,” you whisper, leaning in so that your lips just barely graze against his.

“Please…please, baby. Ride me, please.”

The groan he lets out as you slowly sink down on his cock is enough to send shivers down your spine. It's thick and long, but it's not too big for it to hurt. It fits perfectly, nice and snug like a glove.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters hoarsely, his hands gripping you harder as you begin to roll your hips in that fluid motion that makes him go a little crazy.

It feels like an honour that he gets to see you like this, naked on top of him, riding him deep and slow on his couch after a long day at work. He doesn't know what he ever did in his lifetime to deserve to be balls deep inside you on a Friday night, but he knows that he’s a lucky bastard.

“Just like that. Fuck, you're so tight,” he groans, looking down to watch the way your pussy sucks him in, like something out of a wet dream.

You set a nice pace, riding him just the way he likes it. You reach down to rub circles over your clit, your walls clenching around his cock, pulling soft moans and whimpers from his lips.

“Keep going,” he mutters, his voice trembling. “Fuck, you're gonna make me cum, baby…”

You ride a bit faster, applying more pressure to your clit as you chase your own high. He fights to keep his eyes open, desperately needing to watch you as the pleasure takes over.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” The pleasure creeps up on you and you cum with a breathless moan, your walls fluttering around his length, throbbing and pulsating.

“Gonna…holy shit…gonna cum, baby, don't stop…”

You use the last of your energy to bring him to his peak, moving your hips until his cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath you. He cums with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into your flesh so hard that it might bruise tomorrow.

You continue to grind down on him to help him ride it out. You gently run your fingers through his damp hair, his skin slightly dewy, his eyes squeezed shut. He trembles as the aftershocks flow through him, his breathing coming out a bit uneven.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, looking like he just died and came back to life. He lifts his head to press a soft kiss to your lips, but you pull away before he can deepen it.

“Come on, let go. I gotta go clean up.”

You very rarely allow him to cuddle you after sex. It feels too intimate, too romantic. You don't allow yourself to be romantic with Jungkook. He's not your boyfriend and you like it that way.

He lets out a small hum of disagreement as you lift yourself up, his hands moving to hold your waist.

"Stay here for a little longer," he mumbles softly, his voice drowsy. He looks at you with big doe eyes, trying to persuade you to stay. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You're starting to soften inside me and I have to shower, Kook. You know I hate feeling sticky.”

He reluctantly lets you go, groaning softly as you get up off his lap. "Fine, fine," he grumbles, his eyes following you as you walk over to the bathroom.

You walk off to his bathroom and close the door, locking it behind you. Locking the door is something so simple but it means so much. It means, 'You're not my boyfriend so we can't share that level of intimacy. You can fuck my brains out, but you can't wash my hair in the shower or sit on the toilet while I do my skincare'. It's too coupley.

Jungkook slowly puts his boxers back on, staring at the bathroom door. He knows he’s not your boyfriend. He knows he probably never will be. He knows all your boundaries and your rules and your reasons for having them, but that doesn't make it sting any less. He can't help but wonder what it would feel like if you actually allowed him to love you, but he knows he’s just being foolish and hopeful. He knows that by physically locking that door, you're locking him out of ever getting closer to you emotionally.

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts angst #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: tmhtl #kookooluvr

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woniiez · 9 days ago

Text

ᴛɪʟʟ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴇɴᴅꜱ | ₗ.ₕₛ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ. brothers bestfriend! heeseung x fem!reader

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ. You were sleeping when jay started banging on your door “y/n heeseung is gonna stay with us for the summer”. Lee heesung, your brothers best friend and the boy you’ve had a crush on since you saw him 5 years ago in your living room.

|| ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ. 4-6k (wrote this on my phone so i have no idea, tried to check it but it kept giving me different word counts)

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ. smut, brothers bestfriend.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ. nsfw! smut lmk if there’s anything else.

(hii this is the first fic I’ve ever written, I obviously have a long way to go lmao but I hope you like it. This was written with really less detail and not too many complications something simple I guess. There might be a few spelling mistakes or the paragraph formation is messed up so bear with me on that 🙏🏻. Since this is the first time I’ve written it’s not really fully “fic coded” you could say Ig but I’ll learn in time, it could be different writing wise from a proper fic.Anyways I hope you enjoy and if you have any questions regarding this or anything else lmk.)

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You’ve never really talked to Heeseung much. He comes over a lot but jay doesn’t let you hang out with them much, it doesn’t really bother you much but what did bother you was when jay started banging on your door to wake you up on a weekend at 8am to tell you “ Y/N!! Heeseung is gonna stay with us for the summer”

You couldn’t wait for summer break to come but now you’re grateful there’s still a week left.

you RAN to karina’s house which thankfully was next door. She was obviously still asleep.

“Karinaaa!! WAKE UPPP” you say while pulling the blinds up, “y/n it’s 8am please I haven’t slept all night” karina said while pulling the blanket over her face

“I need to tell you something. ” you looked at her with a very serious face waiting for her to sit up “yes y/n goodmorning to you too” you smiled at her and murmured goodmorning back “ok get this jay said Lee heeseung is gonna stay at ours for the summer..the WHOLE summer!” You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. You waited for her to say something She looked at you like you ate her cat or something, she really is cranky in the morning “can you say something why are you looking at me like that” she took a breath in and out. Oh no u hate when she does that, it feels like she’s going to pounce on you “y/n..is this what you wanted to tell me so badly to wake me up at 8am on a Sunday?” She said in a calm and low tone. You just looked at her as u blinked slowly and nodded slowly, she wasn’t having any of it “y/n it’s not a big deal it’s just heesung and jay is best friends with him you literally see him everyday” well that was true but she didn’t know about the crush you had on him, you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell her.“This is gonna be a looongg summer” you thought to yourself.

It was the first day of summer.

As you woke up the golden sunlight peeked though your blinds, casting stripes across the room. Making you think “it’s finally summer” you smile to yourself. You yawn as you watch the dust particles flying around the window.

You threw your blanket away from you and went to freshen up exited for the summer. You tie your bikini around your hips and back, then throw on an oversized shirt and some jean shorts.

You walked down the stairs each step filled with excitement, thinking about everything you were gonna do this summer with karina, going to places we’ve never been or just hanging out in your backyard. You took a deep sniff smelling waffles from the kitchen. The smell of the batter, the sound of the waffle maker, and fresh maple. You ran to the kitchen to see jay cooking. You love your brothers cooking especially his waffles it’s something he only makes it in the summer. “Jayy you’re making waffles?!!!!???!” You said giggling

and grinning, doing a silly dance “when I met you in the summerrrrr~~” you sang as a smile spreads on jays face. He hums with you.

“Sit down y/n 5 minutes more” he said looking back at you raising his eyebrows. You were walking around the wall to sit on the counter and suddenly you saw heesung sitting on the chair “WHA-“ you were totally surprised and feeling like an idiot since you just sang and danced and HEESEUNG SAW YOU. You completely forgot he was supposed to be here.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you try to laugh the embarrassment off. You looked up at heeseung who was already looking at you up and down. With a slight smirk on his face he tilted his head to the side. “What’s up?”

he said. His tone is relaxed and raspy. You feel so small in his presence , you feel your cheeks burn and u look up at him “hey I heard you’re staying here for the summer”you say trying to relax your voice, you sit down on the chair next to him and look up at him waiting for an answer “mhm” that’s all he says. You think if you’re going see him the whole summer you need to get to know him better atleast. You tilt your head and ask,“Can I ask why?” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity and a gentle smile forms on your lips showing you’re genuinely interested, before he said anything jay came up to the counter and sets the waffles in front of you with a light frown he glances at you and says “y/n don’t bother him” his eyes meet yours and he slightly smiles. Heeseung takes a waffles and puts it on his plate, jay walks away to get the ice cream he looks over at you but you were already looking at him, you look away “im moving to New York after the summer cause of my dads work” he says,his tone relaxed. He shrugs, his eyes glancing away for a moment. “he’s already there so I’m staying here till I leave” he lets out a light laugh and takes a bite of the waffle. You look at him, your heart skipping a beat at the news. A mix of surprise and a touch of sadness washes over your face. “New York, huh? That’s a big change,” you say, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter of emotions inside. You bite your lip, thinking about why you feel sad you barely know him?!. “Are you excited about it?” you ask, your eyes searching his, hoping to catch a glimpse of his feelings. He shrugs a bit. “I’m not really worried” he says nonchalantly. Not wanting to show too much emotion you take a bite of the waffle “oh okay” you said kind of sad but you think jay might be really sad since they’ve been best friends since they were 10.

It’s been about 2 weeks since you talked to heeseung. Even though you’re living together there’s not much interaction between you too, well there are moments when you’re going out in your prettiest clothes and he undresses you with his eyes. You try to ignore it as much as you can, you can’t betray jay like that no matter how much you want to right?

Eventually you decide invite Karina over and take a swim in the pool. The cool water feels refreshing, and the familiar scent of chlorine surrounds you, bringing a sense of comfort. As you float on your back, Karina asks you a shocking question “do you like heesung”she says looking at you with her eye brows raised and crossed arms. “Karin-“ you pause cause heesung is standing at the backyard door by the pool. Did he hear what she said? You’re just looking at him with a confused expression. Karina looks back and smirks to herself. You can’t help but say something,it’s getting awkward “hey Heeseung do u wanna swim?” You ask, Karina noticed how your voice sounds way different from when you both talk. He scratches the back of his neck and says “yea can I?” Looking between Karina and you. You try to communicate with Karina through your eyes “ofc you can” she says with a smirk on her face as she looks at you, you look at her with a confused face as you raise your eye brow asking what she was doing. Heeseung walks towards the pool and slowly with a confidence smirk he pulled off his shirt, his toned body revealing itself to you. You flinched at the sight, you thought how it would feel if he was on top of you and you touch his toned abs..

Suddenly water hit you and you fell of your floaty into the water “what the hell!” You looked at Karina thinking she did that but you heard deep chuckles coming from the side, it was Heeseung “sorry didn’t mean to do that, just diving” he shrugs and looks you up and down like he’s ready to undress you “oh yeah btw there’s a party here tonight” he said. You looked at him in confusion since your parents are home. He continues “oh um jay told me to tell you, your parents have to go to a wedding” you tell him you’re going inside to talk to your mom and jay. You get up and wrap yourself in a towel, by now you think heesung has a staring problem.

You take a shower, change and head down with Karina.

You see jay helping your mom pack you walk into the room “mom where are you going” you ask since everyone knows except you.

“Y/n honey me and your dad have a wedding to attend it’s in the next town so we’ll be back in the morning” you tell her to be safe, you look at Karina and smile looking forward to the party. “Jay take care of y/n and don’t do anything stupid” she looks between you and jay, you put your hands up.

As soon as your parents leave jay picks up his phone and starts calling people over. Since it is your last year why not have a party.

You walk up to jay as he’s wearing his watch he looks over at you “soo who did you invite” you ask out of curiosity since he didn’t tell you about the party which is in YOUR house. He looks at you smiling “anyone and everyone” he winks. You wonder what’s gonna happen tonight your head already hurts. You weren’t really into parties, just going if your friends invited you or when you need to get your mind off something. But tonight it’s someone. Jay looks at you thinking to yourself and says “y/n I’ll keep an eye out for you tonight” you already know what that means. Jay isn’t much of an over protective brother but when it comes to his friends or guys in general getting involved with you, he hates it. Since they’re not someone he fully trusts.

As you get ready in your room, the sounds of the party downstairs filter through the door. Muffled laughter and music. Making your heart race with anticipation. You can hear the clinking of glasses and the cheerful chatter. As you finish your final touches, someone knocks on your door “come in!”

You look at the door as it opens and it’s heeseung hes wearing a black Prada button up with black pants he looks. Your heart skips a beat you blink, he stands there effortlessly attractive. You can’t help but admire his face shape the way his body fits in his clothes, how his jawline is shaped perfectly his eyes are captivating.

Closing the door behind him he walks towards you with a knowing smirk leans down to your ear and whispers “baby you’re staring”. You’re taken aback, you take a step back but he still walk towards you. “I think you’re the one with a staring problem hee” you say fixing the collar of his shirt, he’s chuckles shocked by the sudden nickname and confidence. He presses you again your closet behind you and he slowly puts his thumb over your lips. Before he can do anything else the door opens and you push him away.

It’s jay he looks between both of you “uhm Lee let’s go Jake’s calling you” he says while looking at you. You feel trapped not knowing what to do. Heeseung winks at you secretly and heads back down. Jay raises his eye brow “y/n what the fuck don’t you remember what I told you” he says in a low and angry voice though you can tell he’s hurt. You try to say something with your heart racing, you try to scan jays face but he just walks away.

You walk down after fixing your lipstick. You spot Karina with some of your old classmates and join them.

The party is in full swing when you find yourself in the kitchen, pouring drinks for your friends. Suddenly, Heeseung appears beside you, leaning against the counter with that trademark smirk. “Need any help?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. You nod, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his proximity.

As the night progresses, the atmosphere becomes more charged. Laughter and music fill the air, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is about to change. You catch Heesung watching you from across the room, his gaze intense, and you feel a pull toward him that you can’t resist.

Later, as the party continues, you find yourself in a quieter corner of the house, away from the noise. Heeseung follows you, the tension between you crazy. “It’s crazy how we’re both here together,” he says, stepping closer. The air feels thick with unspoken words, and before you know it, he puts his hand on your waist leaning in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

Your heart races as you kiss him back, the kiss getting deeper. The world around you fading away. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels too right to stop. Just as the kiss deepens, you hear your brother laughing, pulling you back to reality.

You break apart, breathless, and heesung looks at you with a mix of desire and uncertainty. “We can’t do this baby,” he whispers, but the way he looks at you says otherwise. The party goes on, but in that moment, everything changes. You kiss him again and deepen the kiss.

As you pull away from the kiss, your heart races,his forehead on yours. You glance toward the living room where the party is still in full swing. You can hear your brother laughing with friends, completely unaware of the moment that just unfolded between you and heesung.

“Maybe we should go back,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, still feeling the warmth of his lips on yours. Heeseung nods, but there’s still hesitation in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asks, searching your face for confirmation. His hands go up and down your waist. The last thing you both want to do is betray jay, but you can’t help it after liking him for so long.

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting your lip. “But we can’t let anyone see us like this.” You take a step back, trying to regain some composure, but heesung reaches out, gently pulling you back toward him.

“Then let’s keep it our little secret for now,” he suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hands back on your waist moving upwards. You nod, the thrill of secrecy making your heart race even faster. You both go back into the party agreeing on keeping this a secret.

As the night progresses, you and heeseung have moments together, glances across the room, whispered conversations in corners, and the occasional touch that sends sparks through your body. The chemistry between you is undeniable, but you’re also acutely aware of your brother’s presence, and the potential consequences of your actions.

At one point, you find yourselves outside on the patio, where the sounds of the party fade into the background. The night sky is dotted with stars, and the cool breeze contrasts with the heat radiating between you.

“Do you think he’d be mad?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Heeseungs expression softens as he considers your question.

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “But I don’t want to hide this if it means something.” His words send a thrill through you, you’ve wanted heesung for such a long time but the thought of your brother’s reaction hangs in the back of your mind.

As everyone starts leaving it’s already 2am and jay is extremely drunk. You ask heesung to put him to bed.

You’re sitting in on your bed still wearing your black mini dress when the door opens and closes with a bang. It’s heesung he’s charging towards you suddenly he gets on top of you. You’re just looking into his eyes looking for something but they’re just filled with desire. As you’re about to say something he puts his lips on yours capturing them into a kiss.

It starts of slow, he sits against the headboard and you climb on top of him, your knees on the sides of his thighs. He pulls you in again for a deep kiss, he puts his hands on your waist tightening them. They way yours and his lips are moving next to each other feels unreal, he pulls you even closer towards him, you release low moans now needing him as close as possible. As the kiss gets heated you feel his tongue licking your self asking to go in, you let his tongue enter and explore your mouth he groans. He puts his hand on your zipper, you look at him and nod.

He quickly takes it off and looks at your perky boobs “so fucking sexy baby” he looks like he wants to eat you. You gasp when he takes one of your nipples in his mouth “hee-“ and swirls his tongue around,he gives the other one attention aswell taking it in his hands god. His hand goes down to your clothed core as he starts rubbing over it. “Hee please” you cried out, “please what pretty, say it” he whispered

You moaned and squirmed against his hard cock, making him hiss “baby u need to stop moving”.

He laid you against your back and started placing kisses all over your neck and breasts making you breathe heavily. As he placed kisses all over your body he reached your wet core. He took his shirt off revealing his toned body you started kissing him everywhere until It all went too fast when you suddenly felt a hot wet sensation licking your pussy slow. Your eyes rolled back, feeling hee’s tongue going deep in your pussy and sucking on your bud. Your moans could no longer be held back, letting them out freely for everyone to hear.

“H-hee ah- wait!” You cried out feeling your orgasm coming faster than you thought since it’s been 2 minutes. Heeseung didn’t stop, feeling your pussy tighten and open and before he knew it too, his tongue was getting covered by your juices. He licked his lips while looking at you, you thought you could look at him like this forever.

As he takes his pants off with his underwear you look at him surprised at how big he is. You gulped.

Heeseung notices your expression and smirks “you ready baby?” You nod aggressively not wanting to wait another second.

He kissed you everywhere complimenting every little thing, he leaned over and positioned his dick at your whole and slowly pushed it in. “HEE! Fuck” you moan, he thought you looked so pretty with your mascara running down your face because of him.

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he groaned

You let out a ragged breath feeling him in you. He felt so big and you felt so full. Heesung looked at you asking if he could move “u-h you can move” heeseung nodded and moved slowly watching your face as you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

That’s when he started moving faster, you both were a moaing mess. Panting against each other.

Heeseung groaned feeling you squeeze against him, he could feel his orgasm coming.

You felt your orgasm coming as he went in and out “f-uck hee im cu-ming” you moaned and closed your eyes as it came over.

Heeseung thrusting in deeper while you got off your high. He let out a raspy laugh.

You both were breathing heavily after he came and laid down with you. “that was-“ you said panting

“great. “ heeseung looked at you and kissed you once more before he got up and got a towel from the bathrooms and cleaned you up before laying back down.

“Hee?” You said laying down on his arm. “Yeah baby?” He pulled you closer under the blanket “when will you leave for New York?” You said. Your voice not above a whisper, he looked at your sad expression and put a strand of hair behind your ear “I told my dad already im not leaving”he said. You sat up holding the blanket to your chest, “wait really?!” You said smiling so big it hurt. “Yea. “ he said. Hugging you tightly. “I love you hee” you said looking into his sparkly eyes as u pecked him on the cheek “I love you too baby”. He kissed you back.

The sun was out ask you opened your eyes, you rubbed your eyes the memories of last night came flooding back into your mind and you couldn’t believe that actually happened. A smile crept onto your face.

You felt heeseung holding you tightly by the waist. You shifted to look at him, he looked so pretty while sleeping as well. You started tracing his lips and his nose even his eyes. He started blinking and smiled “goodmorning” he said, his morning voice so raspy and attractive. “Morning” you giggled and put your face into his neck.

You suddenly pulled back hearing your door open. “y/n wake uppp!” It was jay.

He stood there looking at both of you naked under the blanket.

He started blinking in disbelief.

Heeseung tried to cover you with his body which made you laugh.

You totally forgot you were in the same house as jay through all that.

Jay just walked out. You looked at heeseung confused why jay didn’t punch anyone. You and heesung got dressed and went down to the kitchen to talk to jay.

You both sat on the chairs in front of the counter where jay was making breakfast.

You started “jay uh.. can we talk” you felt like you’ve betrayed your brother big time, your mind had a lot of things to say but you need to tell him the truth first.

Jay looked back at you with his eye brows furrowed he nodded letting you know to go on but before you could heeseung started talking “look man im sorry it happened this way, I never wanted to hurt you or y/n” he lets out heavy breathing.

You could see how hard this is for heeseung because this is his only one friendship he cares about.

Jay looks at him very angrily “if you didn’t want to hurt me you shouldn’t have done this” he said in a higher voice as he crossed his arms. You felt bad for heeseung for getting the blame “jay it’s not his fault I also wanted too” you say searching jays eyes for something but they were just empty “y/n I know and that’s what I hate more, I told you so many times not t-“

You didn’t let him finish and told him the truth. “I love him” you say.

Heesung hold your hand and jay looks at heesung for an answer. “I love her aswell” Heeseung says in a very straightforward and sincere tome. Jay turns his back, you both give him some time to think. He turns back and sets breakfast up he glances over to both of you “Heeseung you better treat her right or she’ll have to witness your funeral” jay said while smiling as he hugged heesung. You looked at Jay with a smile “im sorry and thank you” you hugged him back.

In the evening you invited Karina over for a barbecue your dad was hosting. You told her everything.

She was really happy for you.

After the barbecue ended all of you jumped into the pool.

Heeseung pulled you to him and gave you a peck on your lips he whispered “I love you” you giggled and splashed water on him.

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