#and by the time nana is on the scene

[s-aint-elmo]

the "girls seeking an impossible wish trapped in a system that twists them into hollow shells of grief and resentment used by other girls to fuel their own desperate struggle" pipeline is multiversal

(ID and additional context in alt text)

[lucindasthighs]

Nana's original character was obviously terrible, but I appreciate that it's one of the few issues Jess actually realized and then ret-conned into something proper in later seasons.

Her identity issues and family trauma clearly weren't a part of her original concept, but it's very compelling all the same, and watching her learn that she can live and love without acting like a simple, palatable caricature is one of the best parts of Starlight for me.

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Kawaii~Chan would be such a scene girl (Lined and revised version!)

She is so rawr X3

[anawkwardlady]

I love how Beatrice is in perpetual Tea Time, I guess it fits the aesthetic but you can also have lunch once a while you know.

[juanitasupreme]

[blinkbones]

Nana, Émile Zola

Finally getting some French lit in. To be completely honest, I've had this book for almost a decade, and I never read it. Well, actually, apparently I tried at some point, because I found some underlined bits very early on -- but it's clear that I gave up. I remember struggling with it back then. I didn't, this time. It's nice to see proof of my improvement, although I'm not sure what specific skill is concerned.

For a quick & anachronistic summary, it's the story of a 19th century escort girl who makes it big in paris.

I was actually surprised by how easy to read this was. I kind of expected very difficult language. It is poetic, but not actually difficult. The text is easy to follow, almost journalistic. Poetic journalism.

I really, really enjoyed Nana. It's a long ride, and what a ride. It reads, at times, like a soap opera, with how she has a roster of desperate men orbiting around her. She really is the sun of her novel -- and it is her novel. I entered this book ignorantly (despite being French and a ~lit student, I'm not actually well-versed in my country's literature) and it kept surprising me. Where I expected a moralizing tale, or at least a pessimistic outlook on the arrogant seductress, I got the unstoppable, inescapable success of Nana. It's almost a power fantasy, although I doubt Zola saw it through this angle. I mean, it does end badly. Spoilers, but she fully dies in a disfiguring manner. And there is this underlying theme of Nana, the beautiful Venus from the lower classes, bringing the rot of the sewers to the silk sheets of the aristocracy. She all but ruins the entire upper class with the raw power of her sex-appeal, and I thought that there was something cosmic about it. By the time she's at her apex, she herself does not have control of her situation. She becomes like an empire, constantly conquering further reaches to maintain peace and prosperity throughout her imperial reign. She devours. And yet she's so incredibly human. She felt to me like a deity unaware of its power, and, in that sense, her death (especially because it's in the full bloom of her youth and legendary status) felt more like a shedding of the mortal form. Admittedly, I also just find it more fun to interpret it that way. I'm reading for fun, after all. Ah, the specter of academic seriousness hangs over me.

I think Nana is an easy entry point into that sort of literature. Yes, it's part of some long-ass series, but no, you don't need to read the previous books (I didn't). It's very self-contained. It's a long, very eventful ride, through Nana's chaotic and glamorous world. It's long but it feels like going downhill on a bike, and like everything's going too fast still. And it's fucking funny.

And for you, tumblr, my beloved, yes, you will find some messy queers in there. I only talked about Nana herself here, but Nana holds a whole ensemble cast of secondary characters, many interesting women (a wealth of them, really), that are really a whole other serving of delights that I just didn't have time to talk about here. But seriously, just about every character, especially the women, is interesting.

[mariocki]

Friday the 13th (2009)

"Jason. My special, special boy. They must be punished, Jason. For what they did to you. For what they did to me."

[oooohno]

I would risk a sunburn just to watch shirtless Smoker enjoying his coffee on deck

[jewishsuperfam]

ok, maya's singing a solo slowed down a capella star divine through her own tears absolute broke me

[todayisafridaynight]

I DON'T HAVE THE ENERGY TO SAY ANYTHING OF SUBSTANCE BUT PLEASE ENJOY MOVIE <333

IT WAS DEFINITELY A MOVIE

[venomnyx]

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

[foldingfittedsheets]

Most parents I think worry or wonder when their kid might finally start repeating swear words they hear. The tale of my initiation into the world of cursing was the subject of family lore however.

First, to set the scene, my nana spent a lot of time with me when I was young. She lived with us briefly and I firmly cemented my place as number one favorite grandchild by climbing up into her attic room to cuddle on the regular.

She’d take me on errands and watch me when my parents were at work. She even once lured me away when she ran into my dad watching me at a store. She didn’t think he was keeping a close enough eye and called me over to her a few aisles away.

I happily complied since I loved and recognized her, then we watched my dad for several minutes before he finally looked down, saw me missing, and panicked. “That’ll teach you to keep a better eye on her!” My nana scolded him, convinced that every babynapper was slavering for her precious redheaded grandbaby.

So one day my mom had me in the car. We were driving along and from my back seat I chirped, “Can we play pretend?”

My mom smiled, imagining I’d start narrating some silly adventure or something. “Sure.”

“Shit shit SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

My mom sat stunned in the front seat, baffled momentarily by the stream of cursing.

After careful questioning it was pretty obvious what had happened. My nana had sworn up a storm in front of me but didn’t want to come clean about it to my parents when I started repeating it. She’d instead invented a fun game and the rules were that I could only curse when we were playing our special pretend game.

My mom was furious, and my nana got a sound dressing down both for the cursing but more importantly for the lying.

My favorite time telling this story though was to a girl in high school. She listened with wide eyes then asked, “Did your mom fire her?”

“What?”

“Your nana? Did she get fired?”

“My…. Grandmother? Did my mom fire my grandmother??”

“Ohhhhh. Not the nanny then.”

[junkissed]

ocean view

member — junhui x f reader genre — romance, smut, strangers to lovers, soulmate au word count — 8.8k synopsis — an all expenses paid trip to greece for your friend's wedding seems too good to be true, but it gets even better when you meet a handsome stranger on the beach. with the help of a mysterious old lady, her magic deck of tarot cards, and one too many coincidences, you're starting to believe things really do happen for a reason. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, unprotected sex, fingering, marking, an oddly romantic one night stand, mentions of past hookups, reader wears dresses, way too much yearning, happy ending ! notes — my part for the @svthub world tour collab; check out the masterlist here! thanks to @multi-kpop-fanfics for answering all my questions and the biggest thanks ever to @onlymingyus for proofreading & helping me brainstorm throughout !! inspired mostly by the spell mv but also a little bit from nana tour and in the soop bc of the vacation vibes. disclaimer i know nothing about tarot but i did a ton of research so i hope that part makes sense anyway :) this fic was a huge challenge to write so please please reblog if you enjoyed reading, the feedback is super appreciated and it helps me keep writing!! read bonus material here!

they say time flies when you’re having fun.

it felt like just days ago when your best friend had announced she was flying everyone to athens for her destination wedding. between helping prepare for the wedding and getting yourself packed for the trip of a lifetime, a weekend on the beach sounded like exactly what you needed to unwind.

but now that you’re here, you’ve quickly realized that your dreams of lazy spa days, massages, and lounging on chairs in the sand with cocktails aren’t on your friend’s itinerary.

what is on her itinerary, however? clubs. lots of clubs, and bars, and raves.

the night before the wedding, you’d showed up at the place you had all planned to meet at for her bachelorette party, a popular bar right on the beach in the center of everything. you hadn’t been sure what to expect, so you’d worn your swimsuit underneath your sundress just in case. between wedding plans and jet lag, you hadn’t yet had the chance to explore the beaches, and you weren’t about to let your favorite white strappy one-piece go to waste without wearing it the whole trip; especially not when you’re surrounded by gorgeous clear waters you don’t get to see while you’re at home.

you tug at your dress a little awkwardly, a simple off-white piece with buttons all down the front. cute and casual, the perfect thing for an evening on the beach. except an evening on the beach is not what you’re getting.

“next round is on me!”

all the girls let out a cheer, clapping and whooping as they raise their glasses. you’re still not even halfway through your first drink; the night is young, but your friends are more enthusiastic partygoers than you are.

you lean away to check the time on your phone, trying not to feel defeated when you see how early it still is. you’ve been trying to hype yourself up for tonight all weekend, but it doesn’t help that your friends are bigger partiers than you. that isn’t to say that you dislike parties, or that you never go out; but parties like this, huge events with hundreds of people packed into a small space with loud music and flashing lights, aren’t really your ideal way to spend a saturday night. even for such a special, rare occasion like a bachelorette party in another country, you can’t bring yourself to get lost in the scene. you should’ve known how this would go, and yet here you are, standing at a cocktail table by yourself surrounded by drunk women.

you turn back around and suddenly the bar is a sea of unfamiliar faces, everyone around you lost in their own worlds jumping and dancing to the music that booms from the speakers. you stand up on your tiptoes to see above the crowd, trying to push your way through in search of someone you recognize, but it seems like they’ve all vanished.

the pounding of the music is starting to give you a headache, so you down the last of your drink and head away from the bar, pushing past people until the crowd eventually starts to thin and you break out into the open air.

it’s still light outside, but the contrast from the darkened bar makes it feel like stepping into another world. the noise gets quieter the farther away you move, and you find your feet carrying themselves down the beach. you walk backwards, turning to look over your shoulder one more time to see if you can spot your friends, but all you see is a crowd full of strangers.

it’s easier to breathe out here, feeling the freshness of the ocean breeze and the salty air in your lungs as you get further and further from the people and the businesses. you turn around again and almost run straight into a man walking from the opposite direction, and you stumble into his arms before you realize what’s happening. you let out a little squeak in surprise and jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet but his hand instinctively shoots around your waist to help keep you upright.

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, an apology already ready on your lips, but he beats you to it. “sorry,” he says with a shy laugh, slowly letting go of you and offering his hand for balance as you slip your sandal back on that had come off. he steps back and gives you a polite smile, trying to move out of your way. “you look like you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“the opposite, actually. escaping my friend's bachelorette party," you explain. 

"we're in the same boat, then," he chuckles, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "trying to ditch the bachelor party. it’s a popular place for weddings, huh?”

“seems like it.” you hum, turning to look out over the water. the setting sun glints off the surface, a clear and bright sparkling blue, and you lift your hand to keep the glare out of your eyes. “i just didn’t think it’d be so…”

“…hectic?” he asks, and you laugh a little.

"yeah, you could say that.” a warm breeze ruffles through your sundress, and you cross your arms over your chest. “i guess all weddings are like that, though.”

he nods, following your gaze off into the horizon. you go quiet, listening to the music still loud in the distance and the sound of seagulls cawing above your heads. "i was hoping to get a chance to explore more of the beaches while i'm here. i don’t get to see it often."

"wanna go for a walk?” you ask suddenly, uncrossing your arms. maybe it’s the fresh air of a new place, maybe it’s the comfort of finding another person wanting to get away from it all, but some part of you wants to stay here and find out. you’d wanted to see more of the landscape anyway, and now seems like as good a time as any, especially now that you’ve got company.

he looks over at you, judging your expression before his face softens. “that sounds perfect.”

it’s still early enough that the beach is still mostly full of tourists, adults lounging on towels while reading books and kids splashing water at each other and playing in the sand. you walk further down the beach, passing in front of a grey haired old woman sitting cross-legged on a towel, shuffling a deck of cards in her wrinkled hands.

"always lovely to see couples enjoying the islands,” she calls out to you. there’s an almost rhythmic lilt to her voice, and it’s so sudden that it makes both of you pause and turn around, having paid her no mind as you walked past before. she gestures down at the deck and you finally notice that she’s holding a set of tarot cards, a deep matte black that seems to glitter and sparkle even while shadowed. “would you like a reading?”

your cheeks start to warm, and you push down the butterflies that flutter to life when she assumes you’re together. "oh, no, we're not—”

"sure," jun says over you, and you sneak a glance up at him when you think he's not looking. "how much?"

she clucks her teeth and shakes her head, staring directly at you although she’s answering his question. "no, no, no, my dear. just offering a bit of friendly advice. won’t cost you a thing."

jun nods, but she seems like she’s waiting for your answer so you quickly nod, too. “okay. what… do we have to do?”

she places her palms over the deck and closes her eyes, falling silent. you stand in front of her, feeling a little awkward to be hovering over her like this, but she it’s like she doesn’t even notice. you share a look with jun, but after a beat he grabs your hand and grins as if to say, just go along with it.

her eyes suddenly fly open and she seems pleased with whatever she was doing. “i knew i could feel it,” she says cryptically as she begins shuffling the cards. “but let’s just see what fate has to say about it.”

she stops and pulls the top two cards from the deck, placing them face down on the towel as she motions at them with her hand. at her signal, jun bends forward and turns over one of the cards, reading it aloud. “ace of cups.”

“ace of cups,” she repeats. “an invitation. the open, uninhibited flow of emotions, creativity, and love; the awakening of your spirit. this is a new beginning for you, the start of a new season. trust yourself and your feelings, and embrace the opportunity to grow with your emotions.”

jun nods seriously like he’s taking in her words, but you can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips that he’s trying to suppress.

she looks at you expectantly, and you hesitate before realizing she’s waiting for you to flip over the second card. you cheeks heat as you read it, but you try not to let it show. “the… lovers?”

she smiles, and although her face looks kind you have a sense that there’s something she’s not telling. “the lovers,” she says, almost solemnly. “many people think this card is strictly about romance. and in some ways it is, but what it really represents is a choice. two diverging paths, two responsibilities. will you choose with your head, or with your heart?”

she stares at you for another moment, then looks back at jun. you both stay quiet and still, subconsciously hanging on her every word as she pauses, clearly having more to say. “having these two cards come up together… now, that’s fascinating for you two, isn’t it?”

you find yourself nodding silently, although you have no idea why. you feel jun’s hand in yours, warm and soft and grounding, and the smallest shiver runs down your spine.

“the lovers and the ace of cups are the potential for new beginnings and the fulfillment that comes with following your heart,” she says, her eyes locked with yours. “this is a very powerful and meaningful connection, but only if you make the choice that is most heartfelt. you must be willing to be your most authentic self and hold nothing back. keep your eyes open, and you will be rewarded with profound joy and happiness.”

immediately you turn to look at jun to see his reaction. he looks just as confused—but is that a hint of excitement in his eyes?—as you do. the woman’s words are… cryptic, to say the least, but it stirs up a feeling of excitement in the back of your mind that you’re trying to ignore. it probably doesn’t mean what you think it does, right?

"hey, wait, so what does—”

you turn back to look at the woman for another explanation, but there's no one there. the beach is empty except for you and jun and the slowly setting sun, a few boats tied up at the dock. you’ve walked so far down the beach that even the distant music has faded into obscurity and you’re left standing alone together, surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the waves. even the wind has died down, and it feels eerily quiet but in an almost comforting sort of way, to be alone together in a place like this.

"you believe in that kind of stuff?" you ask curiously as jun starts to walk away.

"mm… not really. but she seemed like a lonely old lady. i thought it'd make her day." he looks down at your entwined hands and squeezes lightly, almost teasing as you look up and see the grin on his face. "why, do you?"

you can't help the butterflies that instantly flutter to life in your stomach when you feel his warm hand in yours, but you shrug. "why not?"

jun doesn't reply, just nodding thoughtfully as you continue to walk hand in hand. 

with the way the atmosphere has suddenly changed, it feels like time has stopped as you meander your way along the edge of the water. you chat off and on with jun, but there’s a hefty amount of silence that neither one of you feels obligated to fill. talking to jun feels like talking to an old friend, and maybe it’s the beautiful scenery or maybe it’s the way both of you had found yourselves here looking for company.

after a while you come to a stop just below the rocks where you’d started. your footprints from where you’d run into each other are still visible, little indents in the damp sand, and it reminds you of what you were running away from in the first place. maybe you don’t want to run anymore. 

"well…”  jun says, inhaling slowly. "we should get you back to your friends. i'm sure they're looking for you."

"would it be so bad if i said i didn't want to find them?"

he pauses to gauge your reaction, and you don’t miss the flicker in his eyes as he looks at you. after a moment nods and points up the shallow cliffs, towards a little stone staircase worn down from years of being travelled on. "my hotel is just up there. if… if you wanted to stay a little longer? with me?"

you pull your lip between your teeth, looking up at him and the way the fading sunlight shines through his soft brown waves, and it only takes a second to make your decision. “i’d really like that.” 

it turns out that missing out on your friend’s party for a few more hours is an easy price to pay for more time with jun.

the door of his hotel room barely has time to shut before your hands are on each other. you tug him closer by shirt with an eagerness you rarely allow yourself and he immediately reciprocates, pulling you by the waist until you’re pressed chest to chest.

his hand skims over your collarbone towards your neck, and you shiver at the warmth of his fingers caressing the side of your jaw. he angles your chin upwards and leans in as you meet him halfway and your lips finally touch, a low sound escaping from your throat as his nose brushes your cheek.

he makes a soft noise as he inhales, deepening the kiss until you feel your knees go weak. his hand cups your jaw harder, trying to draw you further into him, unwilling to break apart. he kisses you so softly yet you can still feel the intensity behind every movement of his lips, exploring your mouth with a gentleness that feels more natural than anyone you’ve ever kissed before.

jun curls his arm around you tighter, and you’re sure he can hear how fast your heart is beating as he kisses you again and again until you’re breathless. you slide your hands away from his chest and start to undo the buttons at the front of your dress, but he stops you. you look up and meet his gaze as his hand on your cheek moves to wrap around your waist, carefully walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back onto it.

he lets out a quiet groan as you pull him down with you, landing on top of you and catching himself on his forearms beside your head. his face is inches away from yours, staring into your eyes for a beat before he presses down to capture your lips again.

his kisses feel like magic, and you almost forget exactly what you’re here to do. you’d be content to spend hours with his lips on yours and nothing else, but you’re quickly pulled away from it when he sits back and starts to slide his hands down your body, his nimble fingers skillfully undoing the buttons of your dress one by one.

he pulls the fabric away and lets it fall to the floor before leaning to kiss you again, and a grateful sigh slips from your lips at his touch. your fingers tug at his shirt and he breaks away once more to quickly pull it off over his head, tossing it behind him without a second thought.

your hands slide earnestly across his body, your fingertips trailing down his torso and the deep lines of his abs. his fingers brush over your swimsuit in tandem, tracing the cutouts of the fabric where your skin is visible and making you prickle with goosebumps at his touch.

he seems equally as content to just continue doing this, but eventually his hands make their way upwards and gently slip the straps off your shoulders. he doesn't move any further than that, waiting for you to move instead, his fingers resting at the base of your neck just beneath your chin. 

you follow his actions and shimmy the suit down, letting it bunch up at your hips. only then does he finally break apart from you, moving his mouth down to your exposed breast and letting his tongue glide over your peaked nipple. your skin tastes like salt and sweat, like sunny days and warm breezy nights, and he can't get enough of you.

the first moan you let out is like music to his ears, and immediately he craves more of them. he wraps his mouth around your other nipple while keeping his hands attached to your body like magnets, desperate to be the one to draw more of those pretty noises from your lips.

you lift your hips just a little and he quickly gets the hint, wordlessly pushing his fingers between your skin and the fabric of your swimsuit before tugging it all the way off. he pulls it down your legs and you help him kick it away, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

your hands slide across his shoulders and up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair with another moan that sends a shiver down his spine. you can’t help but roll your hips upwards against his body, squirming for more friction as your nails scratch at his scalp.

his face stays buried in your chest for a long time, moving between your breasts and planting wet kisses all along your skin. your head is spinning at the sight of this gorgeous man working his magic on your body, his hands wandering up and down with a tender purpose. you don't even know his name but you already know you're gonna be thinking about this night for months, probably even years. you're shocked at how good he is at this; there's a melancholy feeling looming in the back of your mind, knowing that this is probably the first and only night you’ll get to spend with him, but you don't have time to focus on that when you have the tingly feeling in your stomach to focus on instead.

despite not saying anything aloud you can tell exactly what he wants from you, and something about how easy this is sends a feeling of relief through you. all of the mistakes of your past hookups feel like a distant memory. there’s none of the empty conversations meant to do nothing more than fill the silence and the awkward, tentative movements that you’ve become accustomed to from strangers who aren’t familiar with your body. 

but something about the way jun touches you does feel familiar, like you’ve been waiting all your life for it, for him. his silence, something that most of your partners in the past had fought so hard to avoid, now only leaves more room for you to enjoy the sounds that often go overlooked: the wet hum as his lips connect with your skin, the distant crash of waves outside the window, the quiet whir of the ceiling fan.

jun leans down and kisses you again, shifting on top of you as his hand wanders down your hips. you pull him closer and let your hand travel a similar path, and you bite your lip in excitement when your fingers skim over the bulge straining against his shorts.

he lets out a strangled noise almost like a whimper at the contact but the sound only encourages you to add more pressure, soaking in his reactions. he whines again, pushing his hips into your hand and exhaling a shaky breath as you continue to palm him, feeling the hard outline of his cock as he struggles to keep his composure.

his knee is against your thigh and he repositions himself to press it higher between your legs, returning the favor and giving you something to grind on. instinctively your legs widen a little to give him easier access, and he rewards you with another hot, messy kiss.

you groan at the feeling, pushing your hips down towards him and rubbing yourself on him. it’s a little rough at first, but you’re already so wet that it doesn’t take long before his knee is coated in your arousal and you slide along him easily. 

after a minute he pulls back just an inch, giving you room to breathe, but one hand is still on your hip and the other curled behind you to support your neck. “good?” he asks breathlessly, and even though it’s clear as day that you’re enjoying this as much as he is, you still nod and give him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a smile of his own. “just let me know,” he says, and the sultry yet sweet tone of his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

at your approval his hand begins to wander again, trailing over the top of your thigh. his finger slowly make their way down and you shiver, your hand stilled against his abdomen as you anticipate his next move.

you take this moment to get a good look at him; you’d been too shy to stare earlier on the beach, unsure how things were going to go. but now that he’s on top of you, shirtless and obviously just as eager as you are, you let your gaze roam unabashedly across his body. your eyes glide over his torso, the hollow slope of his collarbones and his hardened nipples, the deep-set grooves of his abs and the faint lines of his ribs beneath his skin. you want to reach out to touch him and run your hands over every inch of him, but you’re trying to be patient. and although you know your time here is limited, it seems like jun is only just getting started.

his fingers finally make it to your inner thighs, tracing the area around your pussy, but it’s still not close enough for your liking. you wiggle a little to try and encourage him, whining softly and letting out a little plea. his lips quirk up and he nods, his grip on the back of your neck tensing and tangling in your hair. 

his fingers finally brush against your entrance and you gasp, writhing at how gentle his touch is. he dips his middle finger into your heat before pulling it back out, trailing upwards to your clit to circle it for a moment before heading back down and repeating the process. it’s barely enough, yet it leaves you breathless almost instantly.

he’s staring down between your legs with an intense focus, spreading your arousal around before sinking back into you for more. and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pushes his finger in deeper, holding it still for a second even though you’ve already adjusted to it. he waits until you start moving, arching your back and trying to get him to go further, before he adds his ring finger and begins slowly thrusting both fingers in and out together.

you whimper and curse under your breath, trying to roll your hips to match his rhythm. he starts to curl his knuckles and you swear you see stars, despite the fact that he’s barely moving at all.

after a moment when you’ve regained the ability to breathe normally again you start to move your hand back against his bulge, shaky fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. you wrap your hand around him and your eyes widen at the thickness, the heavy weight of him in your hand and how you’re sure he must be aching by now. you feel the way his cock jerks when you squeeze ever so slightly, his fingers inside you freezing for a split second as his brain tries to process before he plunges them in even deeper, curling into you with even more fervor than before.

you hold him tighter and run your thumb over his tip, swollen and leaking with precum. he gets a little noisier with every move you make, unable to contain the pleasure he gets even from this. even the smallest touches from each other have both of you on edge in a way you’ve never felt before, drawn to each other like no one you’ve ever had before.

his clothes in the way are starting to frustrate you, so after another second you release his cock and move your hand up to the waistband of his shorts instead, trying to tug them down but it’s difficult from the position you’re both laying in.

“please,” you pant out desperately after having little success, and he obliges, pushing his shorts away as fast as possible before resuming his motions. he’s still almost completely ignoring himself as he continues to focus on you and only you, and his complete devotion gives you another boost of confidence.

now freed, his hard cock slaps against your thigh and you moan happily at finally being able to see all of him. it looks even better than it felt, thick veins bulging out across his length and his tip flushed a deep red. you wrap your hand around him once more, flicking your wrist as you start to jerk up and down.

his fingers curl upwards to massage the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and if you had any functioning thoughts left you would’ve marvelled at the fact that he was able to find it so easily, but you’re too busy arching your back against his pillow to think about that.

he can feel you starting to clench harder around him, making his fingers stutter inside you, so he pushes his other hand down on your hip to stop you from moving so much. he pulls his fingers out and your eyes dart back up to his face for an explanation, unable to stop the whimper that escapes from you at the loss, but the look in his eyes instantly puts you at ease. you can already tell he knows what he’s doing, and somehow he seems to know exactly what you need, so for once you don’t mind sitting back and letting someone else call the shots.

“can i fuck you now?” he murmurs, and it takes you a second to even hear what he said because you’re shocked at how low and rough his tone is since the last time you heard him speak. he wipes his fingers against the inside of your thigh as he waits for your reply, and you shiver at the cool wetness on your skin.

the best you can manage is a stuttered “yes”, and without a word of acknowledgement he pulls you off the bed, guiding you off your back and onto your hands and knees.

you let out a squeak at the sudden change but you let it happen, and a second later you hear his voice beside you, his breath warm against your ear. “still okay?” he asks, and despite the gruffness in his voice you can still hear the soft edge to his words.

“yeah,” you repeat, suddenly losing the ability to say anything else to express your pleasure, but somehow you know he understands. your stomach flutters at the low tone of his voice, steady and calm but so full of warmth and lust.

you feel the heat from his face move away from your skin, and you know he’s sitting up on his knees behind you. his hands slide down your sides, reaching under you to cup your boobs with both hands as he groans at the feeling. you let out a matching whine, pushing your hips back against him to feel his hard length against the soft flesh of your ass.

his hands still holding your breasts, he leans down over you to keep you flush to his body, your back pressed against his chest. he presses a kiss in between your shoulder blades, letting his tongue trace lightly over the ridges of your spine.

you grind backwards against him harder, your body on fire from his kisses as he starts to suck gently at the back of your shoulder. you’re not sure if it’s hard enough to leave marks, but you kind of hope they do, because then you’d be sure this encounter wasn’t a dream. what other explanation is there for the fact that you’ve not only met the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but that you’re currently on your hands and knees in his bed as he runs his lips over every single inch of you, waiting for him to fuck you? it’s too good to be true.

but it is true, and you know it when he pulls away to brush your hair to the side and expose more of your back for him. his fingers are still so gentle against your skin, his touch heavy but soft, and it makes you even more desperate for him.

after a while he lets go of you and leans back, taking his cock in his hand and gently tapping it against your ass. you groan and fall forward, pressing your face into the pillows and arching your hips up into the air. his hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist with a low groan as he leans forward to kiss the side of your neck again.

he finally pushes all the way into you, and it feels so good it takes your breath away for a second. you can feel your walls throbbing around him, struggling to adjust to the feeling of being so full in the best way, a way you haven’t felt this strongly in so long. it’s a feeling like no other, and it makes you wonder why you ever settled for anything else before this.

his hands are all over you like he can’t decide what to do first, but after a while they settle at your hips and give them an encouraging squeeze, waiting patiently for you to set the pace. finally you bring yourself to move, tipping forward to let him slide out of you just a bit before you lean back into him.

he adapts quickly to your rhythm, thrusting in and out and matching your pace, using his grip on your waist for leverage to push himself deep inside with every stroke.

“fuck,” he moans under his breath, finally breaking the silence, and with just that one sound you feel yourself starting to let go.

the words tumble out of your mouth and you ball your fists into his sheets, clinging to the bed to keep you grounded while your head is spinning. “please, please, yes—”

everything finally hits you all at once, like a tidal wave pouring over you as you fall forward and bury your face into the pillow with a broken whimper.

“don’t stop, please,” you whine breathlessly. your words are muffled by the pillow, but you can tell he’s heard them because his grip on your hips tightens even more, slamming into you with just as much force as before and carrying you through your orgasm.

jun has to bite his lip not to sail right over the edge with you, focusing all his energy on holding himself back until he feels your body go limp all at once, the waves finally subsiding and you let out a deep, pleasured exhale. he’s so close he can practically taste it, his skin flushed and damp with sweat and his abs burning with exertion. only once he’s absolutely sure that you’ve finished cumming does he let himself break, pulling out as fast as he can and wrapping his fist around his length with all the energy he has left.

he moans weakly at the loss of your tight, warm walls hugging him so perfectly, but the view as he jerks himself over you all but makes up for it. the sight of your ass pressed flush against his thighs, your lower back arched and on display like a gorgeous blank canvas, and it gives him such a rush until he can’t hold on anymore.

the warm, sticky liquid hits your back and you whimper into the pillow, instinctively lifting your hips even more towards him. his cum spurts out in thick ropes, painting your skin and pooling in the little divot at the base of your spine, running down your ass until it feels like you’re soaked in it.

he finally pulls back and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in, groaning as he sees you sitting still on the bed with your hips in the air. you feel the bed shift with his weight as he gets up, but you don’t pay any attention to it as you focus on trying to steady your breathing instead. something in your gut tells you to stay put, and sure enough, a minute later you hear the sink running and then feel the cool fabric of a damp washcloth brushing over your back.

he lays his hand on your ass and gently gives it a little squeeze to signal that he’s finished, and you finally fall over onto your side. you’re coasting on cloud nine, and everything feels both dulled and hypersensitive at the same time. the whir of the overhead fan is a little more prominent now, and the quiet drone echoes around in your brain.

“do you need water? or do you want a snack, or something?” jun asks, and while his voice still has a touch of shakiness as he’s recovering himself, you can tell his tone is back to the gentle and polite sound you’ve become used to hearing from him.

you shake your head, and he hums softly in acknowledgement as he points to the nightstand on the side of the bed closest to you. “there’s an extra water bottle there, if you need it. i haven’t opened it.”

you nod against the sheets, suddenly too tired to even think about forming words. jun climbs back onto the bed next to you, stretching out his long limbs and leaning against the headboard with a satisfied sigh. 

you surprise yourself when your body automatically reaches out for him, curling into his body and laying your hand across his forearm like a weight keeping him close. but what surprises you even more is when he mirrors the action, scooting closer to you and letting your head rest against his stomach. your first thought is that he makes a very comfortable pillow, and you let your eyes fall shut for a moment as your breathing returns to normal, wanting to savor this moment as you collect yourself and prepare to leave.

you open your eyes what feels like minutes later, but when you reach over to check your phone you realize you’ve been asleep for more than an hour. you inhale slowly and swallow, blinking a few times as the sore feeling in your hips reminds you of where you are.

instinctively, you start to panic a little. your friends are probably looking for you. you disappeared without telling anyone, and now you have to get back to your hotel and make sure you have enough time to sleep properly and get ready for the wedding in the morning. never mind that it was probably the best night you’ve ever spent with another person, and never mind that your friends are probably still out partying and haven’t even noticed you missing yet.

you slide off of the bed as quietly as you can, stumbling a little when your feet hit the floor. you crouch down to pick up your swimsuit off the floor and put it on, hopping on one foot as you slip each leg through the holes. it's darker outside now, but the street lamps and the moonlight shining through the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony of his hotel room are bright enough that it still feels like day. you're so focused on getting dressed and mentally running over your to-do list that you completely forget there's another person in the room until you hear his voice cutting through the silence.

“you don’t have to do that, y’know.”

you freeze and look up, your half-buttoned dress hanging loosely from your shoulders, your cheeks burning at the realization you’ve been caught.

jun swings his legs off the bed, crossing the room in a couple of strides before he’s standing in front of you. he’s wearing nothing except for the boxer shorts he threw on right before you fell asleep, and your cheeks flush even harder at the sight, despite the fact that you’ve already seen much more of him than this.

it takes every ounce of restraint you have to keep your eyes from straying, locked on his face before your gaze falls quickly to the floor where your sandals are left in a heap.

you didn’t mean to sneak off. but what else were you supposed to do? you hadn’t meant to fall asleep and stay as long as you did, either, and now you were stuck with the awkward conversation that always comes afterwards. the inevitable hurried goodbyes and uncomfortable tension as you try to put yourself back together and leave as fast as possible.

jun takes a small step closer to you, and despite all the confidence you know he has, it feels almost… tentative. as if you’re meeting for the first time and he isn’t sure whether or not he’s allowed to touch you yet.

there's a lingering feeling that you can't quite put your finger on yet. it's conflicting, because you know you can't stay but everything in you is screaming not to leave. maybe there's something you can do, anything you can do. is it all worth it? to turn your life around in a complete 180 for someone you barely even know— and yet, the last few hours that you’ve spent with him have been incomparably the best of your life.

after a moment he reaches out and starts to finish buttoning your dress for you, his fingers working them back through the loops with just as much care as he did when he was taking them off earlier.

“sorry,” you manage quietly, though you’re not even really sure what you’re apologizing for. a lot of things: sorry for running away, sorry for having feelings you probably shouldn’t be feeling, sorry for knowing this won’t work out despite the way you really, really wish it could.

but he just shakes his head as he finishes buttoning the last button. “i took it off. i can help you put it back on, too.” you can tell he knows what you had actually meant, but he’s ignoring it either for your sake or his. something about his words feels so easy, like all the problems in your head don’t mean anything anymore. here you are, an anxious and awkward and confused mess, and there he is, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress like it’s something he’s been doing all his life.

he adjusts the strap on your shoulder with a gentle pat, but his hands linger for a few seconds longer than they should, and you lift your eyes to meet his. “can i kiss you again?” he asks quietly, and for some reason his choice of words sticks with you. not one final kiss, not a goodbye kiss, just again. like he’s refusing to admit this will probably be the last time you’ll ever see each other.

and you nod, and his hands slide up to cup your cheeks and pull you back into his lips, just as warm and just as soft and just as familiar as the first time. there’s something so innocent about kissing him, even in the midst of a complicated and confusing mess of emotions that makes you second guess everything. somewhere in the back of your mind you vaguely register that this is the last time you’ll ever kiss him, but as long as his lips are on yours it doesn’t matter. you’ll figure out how to deal with all that later; for now, the only thing you’re concerned about is the way he grips your chin and pulls you even closer.

it feels like hours later when you finally pull away, letting out a slow exhale as you try to blink yourself back to reality, and you know what has to happen now. “can you find your hotel on your own? do you want me to walk back with you?” jun asks, and you can feel the hesitancy in his voice.

“it’s not far,” you sigh quietly, turning away to slip your feet into your sandals that wait by the bed where you’d taken them off earlier. you should’ve said yes. “but… thank you.” your words hold a sincere weight to them, and it’s silent for a few seconds as you cross the room quicker than you want to.

“you could stay,” he says finally, but his hand is already on the doorknob and you both already know the answer. you hate that you have to be the one to tell him no, even though it’s been clear from the start what the outcome would be. you give him a small shake of your head, and he pulls on the knob. 

he stands and stares for a minute, watching you walk down the hallway and praying you’ll turn around. and then you do, glancing back at him over your shoulder, and he almost allows himself to have a little bit of hope that you might come back, even though you both know you can’t. when you find him still standing in the doorway your eyes light up just the slightest bit, and finally you disappear with a tiny little wave.

the door clicks shut again, and the silence that follows is louder than anything he’s heard all day.

“and you didn’t even get this guy’s number?!”

you wince at the tone in jeonghan’s voice, rubbing the back of your shoulder guiltily. “his name, either.”

“even after the magic old lady said all that shit about soulmates?”

“she didn’t say that!” you huff. your tone rises almost defensively, although it probably has no reason to. she didn’t say anything about being soulmates… right? “she said something like, ‘keep your eyes open for stuff around you’. but he said he didn’t even believe in it, anyway.”

a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses walks past, and he snags a couple of them, holding one out to you. “well, it doesn’t sound like you’re keeping your eyes open. it sounds more like your eyes are closed, actually. are you blind?”

you scowl and take the glass from him. “my flight home is tonight, hannie. i’m not gonna see him again.” you take a sip, letting it sit in your mouth for a second before you swallow. “and besides, he said he was here for a wedding, too. he could be from anywhere in the world. it would be impossible to find him.”

“doesn’t hurt to at least try.” you both stop in front of a circular table covered in flowers, with a little placard next to one of the plates with jeonghan’s name on it. “i guess this is my table. you want me to help you look for yours?”

you shake your head, pointing to a table a little ways away. “i saw mine on the way in, it’s over there.”

“whatever,” he hums at you, but you know he’s just teasing. “i still wouldn’t blame you if you ditched and ran off to try and find him.”

“not happening!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away, matching his playful tone. but you can’t help but feel like maybe he’s right.

jun taps his fingers against the table, staring mindlessly at the bubbles floating in his glass of champagne. he’s stuck in his head— no, that’s not right. that’s not the problem. you’re stuck in his head. it’s nearly a full day later and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your breasts in his hands, the scent of the shampoo in your hair. if that wasn’t the most perfect hookup in the history of hookups, then he doesn’t wanna know what is.

he still feels bad for not even paying attention during the ceremony, because he was too busy imagining you and him up there on the altar kissing instead. god, what he wouldn’t give for another kiss like that. but just like you, he knows it never would’ve worked out, and despite the what-ifs that are chewing him up inside and the fact that he definitely, absolutely, totally would’ve tried to make it work however large the distance was, he knows it’s probably for the better. even if it means he’s gonna spend the rest of his life pining after a girl he met on vacation for less than a single day, and he’ll never even know your name.

he takes a swig of his champagne and tries to put on a cheery face. this is a wedding, after all, and he can’t afford to spend all his time pouting when he’s in a beautiful city by the seaside enjoying delicious food and near perfect weather.

and then he sees you.

not really, of course, because it’s probably the champagne going to his head after chugging the majority of his glass like a frat boy at a college party. but then he blinks, and it really is you, wandering around for a second before you sit down at a table on the other side of the venue, wearing a soft blue dress that’s even prettier than the one he saw you in yesterday.

he blinks again, not fully believing that it’s you and not just the combined effect of the alcohol and his daydreams, but you’re still there when he opens his eyes again. and he knows it’s you, because he can see the faint hickies on your back and shoulders that you clearly tried to hide with makeup but couldn’t fully reach.

the chances that he’d see you again—not even that, but the chances that you’d be attending the very same wedding he was—must be one in a billion. maybe even more. yet there you are, picking at your nail and staring wistfully at your empty plate as you wait for the reception to start.

he stares for another minute, just to make sure you’re actually real, before he stands up and makes his way to the terrace at the back of the venue where the groom is standing next to a tower of cupcakes.

“gyu,” he greets him, “hey. are we allowed to switch tables?”

“i… don’t think so?” mingyu hums, a little off guard by the sudden question. “i made sure we put you next to hao, but—”

“if i give you twenty bucks, can you put me at table 8 instead?” jun’s eyes flicker with desperation, and he has to force himself not to look back over at you.

mingyu whines apologetically and hesitates, glancing at his bride a little ways away as she talks to a table full of guests. “she did all this planning, jun, i can’t just change everything now…”

“it’s not changing everything.” jun pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket, already rifling through the bills. “i’ll make it a hundred. mingyu, please, just switch me,” he says.

the whine in jun’s voice makes him pause, and he bites his lip as he considers it. on one hand, he could have his brand new wife a little bit mad at him for a while (who’ll probably forgive him the second she gets in bed with him tonight), plus get to help his friend and get an easy hundred dollars out of it. or, on the other hand… he could not help him, and his wife would never know, and jun would probably hate him for some unknown reason even though he doesn’t think jun has a single bone in his body capable of hating anybody. the decision is easy.

mingyu takes the bills from jun’s hand and stuffs them in his pocket before anyone can notice. “go ahead,” he says, tossing his head in the direction of the table. “i don’t know what it is you want, but don’t let anybody see you.”

“thanks! i owe you!” jun grins and hugs him, letting out a noise almost like a squeal before he turns and dashes away.

you’re barely paying attention to the reception anymore as you sit with your chin in your hands, again mentally running over all the things you need to pack and how on earth you’re going to be able to board your flight tonight and leave everything behind. the beaches, the city… and him. how are you supposed to just get on a plane and get on with your life, knowing that he’s out there somewhere in the world, and you’re never going to see him again. 

you’re trying not to sulk, but you can’t help the way your mood has been sour all morning, already filled with regrets and you haven’t even left yet. maybe you should’ve skipped the wedding altogether and spent another day in his bed, wrapped up between his sheets and lying in his arms. but then the rational part of your brain reminds you that he was also in town for a wedding, so even if he’d wanted to or even been okay with doing that, he probably had other plans anyway.

you’re still trying to figure out what to do about your hopeless situation when you hear a sound close behind you. it startles you into putting a smile on your face, preparing yourself to socialize although you really aren’t in the mood to.

“is this seat taken?” jun asks as he pulls out the chair to your left and sits down.

your brows furrow in confusion, trying to place the familiar voice, until you turn around and your jaw drops when you see who it belongs to.

you stare at him in shock, your eyes darting back and forth between his trying to figure out what to say. “you’re not joshua,” is the best you can come up with as your mouth hangs open and you whip your head around to check the list of names assigned to this table. you recognize them all, yet here he is: the nameless stranger you’ve fallen so helplessly in love with in so short an amount of time.

he smiles at your reaction, and it’s such a genuine smile that you know he’s feeling exactly the way you do right now. “i guess you’re right. i’m not.” he brushes the name card in front of him to the side and sets his own down in its place instead before he holds out his hand to shake. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m jun.”

you pause for a minute, staring at his hand. you can’t believe this is real, you can’t believe he’s real; you’d almost been able to convince yourself that the whole encounter last night was a fever dream, if you hadn’t woken up in the morning with a soreness between your legs that screamed that it definitely was not a dream.

finally you reach out and take his hand, and even in that little touch you can tell it really is him, from the way your heart picks up when you feel the familiar softness of his skin and the gentle squeeze that sends goosebumps down your arm.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[hannieehaee]

Hi!! Could you do a fic where Jeonghan is being the menace that he is, but his partner is the only one who can quell him with one look pls? Like he is just super soft w her and always listens cos he’s a simp?

content: simp!jeonghan, established relationship, afab reader, slightly suggestive, etc.

wc: 1156

a/n: this was based on that one scene from nana tour in which jeonghan basically waterboarded mingyu for absolutely no reason (ik he was on a mission but he drenched him ?!\>\£). hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

jeonghan was always known to be a bit of a menace by all his friends.

well, maybe even more than just his friends. after all, there was a reason why he was often called the loki of seventeen by many of his fans.

he was simply a bit unconventional in the ways in which he found entertainment, such as the time in which he berated dokyeom into searching for bugs for them to eat on the streets. he simply had a tendency for bugging his members (out of love, of course), becoming an extra obstacle in their lives just for the fun of it.

now, jeonghan also had a heart of gold and far too much love for his brothers to ever actually cause any harm to them. however, after over a decade of knowing his brothers, he had somehow conditioned them to accept his odd behaviors and simply go along with his shenanigans whenever he felt like acting up.

you, as well as his members, always found great entertainment in his weird behaviors. i mean, it takes a great man to be able to cheat his way through every single game without consequence.

despite finding humor in his ways, you would sometimes have a tendency to put a halt to it. a simple whine of 'hannie!' would have him stopping in his tracks and murmuring against your ear as he whined back but relented at you. what you didn't know, however, was that you were the only person who held this power over jeonghan (even his sister would occasionally fall victim to his menacing ways).

today was one of the many instances in which jeonghan grew bored while at practice, deiciding to wreck havoc just for the hell of it. it was easy for him to spot a victim, – it was usually mingyu – which then lead him to approach him with the illest of intentions. there was never much thinking that went into teasing his members. it was just second nature to him by now. so when he eyed the water bottle in mingyu's hand, even the other members who were standing nearby could see what jeonghan's next move would be.

he was patient with it; engaging in conversation as he usually would as to not draw suspicion. jeonghan realized in that moment that maybe his instincive need to bug mingyu for no reason might be something to look into, but that would come some other day. for now, he wanted a quick laugh.

jeonghan saw his opening the moment mingyu uncapped his bottle and brought it to his lips, taking advantage of his calculated proximity to tilt the end of the bottle in order to drench mingyu's face, causing the man to almost choke on the water he'd been drinking.

as expected, this began a mini war between the two boys, as five minutes later they were both attacking each other with any and every water bottle they could find in their vicinity, even going as far as causing collateral damage to a few of the other members. what jeonghan hadnt planned, however, was a sudden visit from you, who had walked in just as jeonghan squirted yet another water bottle directly at mingyu's face.

"jeonghan!", you scolded as soon as you were in earshot, "leave him alone, you got him all drenched!", you were now standing next to the group, frown on your face as you took in the scene.

"baby? what are you doing here? did you–"

"don't 'baby' me. why are you bugging mingyu again? look at him! he's completely wet."

"i got water in my eye!," whined the tall man, taking advantage of your defense for him.

by now, a few of the members nearby were snickering at the swift turn of events, entertained by not just the water fight but the way in which you immediately sided with mingyu rather than your boyfriend.

"i'm wet too! how do you know he didn't start it?", tried jeonghan, knowing full well that the idea was unconvincing.

"hannie, don't lie to me."

"okay, fine. i got bored, okay? it's just water, baby. it's fine. right, mingyu?"

"dude, you fucked up my hair," mingyu didnt seem truly offended, but more so wanting to feed the flames now that he had an opportunity. jeonghan could tell by the slight smirk on his face.

the frown remained on your face, continuing to come in mingyu's defense for some reason unknown to jeonghan.

"jeonghan, apologize to him."

"what?", his wide and incredulous eyes turned to look at you, ignoring the snort he was pretty sure seungkwan had just let out.

"you heard me."

"but–"

"hannie!"

"f– fine," like a petulant child, jeonghan turned to mingyu and gave him a forced smile, "i'm sorry for getting you wet, gyu."

"than–"

"thank you", you interrupted the man.

jeonghan couldnt help but feel scolded by you. it was rare that you actually ever went against his shenanigans, but he did know he could sometimes go a little extra hard on mingyu due to mingyu's disposition to put up with jeonghan with no complaint (usually even fighting back). he was a bit embarrassed by the way in which you sided with him and even berated him in front of his members, but he also knew he could never say no to you, so apologizing just seemed logical to him.

after a few moments of him whining at his members to mind their business and go get their own girlfriends, he dragged you away to a less polluted corner of the practice room to get some one-on-one with you.

"babyyyy," he immediately pouted at you, proceeding to attaching to you like a bear, burying his head into your neck.

"hannie, you're all wet!", you complained despite making no move to push him away, even wrapping your arm around him and running a hand through his damp hair.

"why'd you have to do that? the boys are supposed to think you're obsessed with me," he frowned against your neck.

despite the whine behind his words, you could feel the vibration of his giggles against you and the smile pressed against your neck. as per usual, he was just whining because he could; something which you always found an endearing result to any rare instance in which you'd scold him.

"they're all gonna think im a simp now," he continued.

you giggled at that, causing him to sway you back and forth as he buried himself even deeper against you.

"are you not?", you inquired.

"i am, but they dont need to know that!"

"you're so annoying ..."

"yeah, but you find it fun, don't you?"

"im not at liberty of releasing that information."

he laughed against your neck, reaffirming to himself how much he liked the back and forth between the two of you, even if it meant relenting to you every single time, earning himself the title of simp among his members.

[planetaryupscaled]

May the Best Sister Win

Male Reader x Heejin x Nana

Tags: 9k, first time, creampie, oral, threesome, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

“Fuck me, please, fuck me...”

I buried my head into Nana’s shoulder, focusing all my energy on thrusting into her tight, wet pussy. She groaned, pulling me into her.

“Cum, please,” she moaned. “I want to cum together...”

Nana and I had met doing theatre in college. She was a beautiful, slim blonde with big brown eyes that complement her features, and her nipples stood pink and pointy on her breasts, which, though small, fit her slender frame. I looked down her body, flushed with coital bliss, to the triangle of trimmed hair between her spread legs, and her open pussy that made a slick sound as I drove into her.

“I’m getting close,” I huffed.

“Cum in me,” Nana said. “Fill me up.”

All of a sudden, we heard a voice from Nana’s living room: “Nan? Nana! HELLO?”

“Shit, that’s Heejin,” Nana whispered to me, rolling off me and throwing on one of my sweaters, which was large on her. “Quick, get dressed.”

My cock was shiny and throbbing, unhappy to be interrupted so close to completion, but there was nothing to be done. I pulled on some gym shorts.

“Hello!” Heejin said in a singsong voice as she burst happily into the room.

I think I managed to get my shorts up in time, but if Heejin saw, she didn’t react.

“Hey, Jin,” Nana said. “Nice of you to do away with that annoying custom of knocking before you enter.”

In my sexually frustrated state, I couldn’t help but notice how pretty Nana’s younger sister was.

Heejin was a freshman beauty with blonde hair that framed her angelic face like a young starlet. She had a petite figure just like her older sister, but with more generous curves, filling out a regular t-shirt with firm, prominent breasts.

“I got a call back!” Heejin happily bounced around, not seeming to notice that Nana and I were flushed and out of sorts from almost having been walked in on.

“That’s... great,” Nana said, hesitating. “That’s impressive, especially for a freshman.”

Nana had told me all about her competitive relationship with Heejin. The same sports teams, the same roles in high school, Heejin even went after some of Nana’s boyfriends back in the day. Nana hadn’t been happy that Heejin had chosen our university, and wouldn’t be happy that Heejin was challenging her for the lead roles in the shows that were once Nana’s uncontested. Still, their mother said they had to live together, so Nana could help Heejin stay sheltered from the worst of college.

“I’m sure I won’t get it, but it’s so cool to even be at callbacks,” Heejin said. “Wow.”

“Suho auditioned too,” Nana said. “He’s a lock for the male lead, I bet.”

Heejin looked me up and down. “He certainly looks like a dashing leading man to me.”

“That, and the fact that everything is easier for men in theater,” I said. “The bar’s not so high.”

“Well, I just wanted to share the good news,” Heejin said, heading for the door. “I’ll see you guys at callbacks! Maybe spend more time practicing, and less time having sex!” She giggled as Nana threw a pillow at her.

“That won’t be a problem for you,” Nana called after her, teasing. “Virgin!”

All we could hear was the sound of Heejin’s cute laughter as she slammed the door of her room.

—

“Oh, huh,” Nana said, studying the callback pairings on the sign-up sheet. “I have to do my scenes with Minsoo.”

Minsoo was a good friend of ours, a theater die-hard who would get the lead role every time if he were able to act convincingly straight. Unfortunately for him and luckily for me, our theater director Hanjae refused to believe him as a romantic interest for the women.

“Better than a random stranger,” I said. Minsoo was a good guy. “Who am I doing mine with?” I studied the list. Then my stomach dropped. “Oh, shit.” I was supposed to do the kissing scene with Heejin.

Nana saw it, too. “You and Heejin? Of course you two would be paired up.”

“I’m sure I can ask Hanjae to switch us.”

“No, it’s okay,” Nana said. “What he says goes, and you don’t want to make him mad.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Have fun. It’ll be the thrill of Heejin’s life. She’s always gone after my boyfriends anyway.”

Just as Nana disappeared to run lines with Minsoo, Heejin spotted me from down the hallway and came up to me. She was dressed in a t-shirt, as usual, but this one had a lower neckline, offering me a tantalizing view of her cleavage. From what I could see, her tits were perfect, soft and smooth. I tried not to look at them as she approached.

“So, we’re together, huh?”

“Guess so.”

Heejin darted in and kissed me quickly, just a quick peck on the lips. I pulled back, too late, surprised.

“What was that for?”

“Just to get the awkwardness out of the way,” Heejin said. “Now we’ve had our first kiss.”

We found an empty classroom ran through lines quickly. I kept stumbling over mine, distracted by the beautiful girl in front of me. When we got to the kissing scene, Heejin lowered her script, looked me in the eyes and came in close to kiss me. I caught a light scent of a sexy perfume on her neck as she tilted her head up.

I hesitated. This was my girlfriend’s little sister; wouldn’t it be weird to kiss? I mean, to really kiss? Heejin, luckily, made the decision for me. She pressed her soft, full lips to mine, kissing me gently. I reacted, putting a hand on her cheek and pulling her closer to me, our lips working against each other. She tasted like mint. It went on longer than it had to — her character was supposed to pull away, but Heejin didn’t. Finally, I stopped it.

“Whew,” Heejin said breathlessly, cheeks turned pink and her chest heaving. “That felt good, right?”

I was half hard and I tried to secretly adjust my cock.

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re —” I almost said “You’re a good kisser,” but I stopped myself. “I think we’ll do great in the audition.”

We were finally called into the audition room. Behind a folding table sat Hanjae, the theater director, and a few of his assistants. We said hi, chatted quickly, and then got into the scene. Heejin and I were playing secret lovers. I was the stable boy and she was the Lady of the manor, whose husband was unfaithful. In the scene, I approached her for the first time, professing my love and begging her to kiss me.

When it came time, Heejin pressed herself to me with a little less passion than when it had just been us alone, but the kiss was still electric. She pulled back at just the right time, her character berating mine for showing such rough manners. But I could tell by her rosy cheeks that the second kiss affected her just as much as the first.

After we finished the scene and went back into the hallway, Nana came up to us.

“How’d it go?”

“Perfect,” Heejin said, punching me lightly in the arm. “Once Suho got around his hesitation to fully kiss me.”

Nana made a face. “The less I have to think about it, the better.”

“Your scene went well, too?” Heejin asked sweetly, changing the subject.

“Sure did.”

“Then may the best sister win.”

—

“That little bitch,” Nana fumed, staring angrily at the cast list. She had run ahead and gotten to it before I got a chance to look. “She took my fucking lead role.”

My stomach clenched. If Heejin was the female lead, then...

“God damn it.”

“What?” Nana looked down the list. Her eyes widened even further. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

I had landed the male lead. Heejin and I would be making out and simulating sex onstage for the next several months. I can’t say I didn’t feel any excitement at the prospect, but as Nana’s loving boyfriend, I had to share her frustration.

“We can ask Hanjae to switch us up,” I said.

“He’ll never do that! His casting decisions are always final, you know that! The only way he’ll switch it up is if Heejin agrees to it.”

Right on cue, I saw Heejin’s golden curls coming down the hallway towards us. Nana hurried up to her.

“You can’t take the lead role,” Nana said. “It’s you and Suho.”

Heejin took in this news and smiled at me. “I’m happy that Hanjae made the right choice.”

“Heejin, I’m a senior and you’re a freshman. This is my last chance at the lead before graduating.”

“I’m sorry,” Heejin shrugged, innocently. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. If this is about Suho, then I promise he loves you enough that kissing me a few times a night won’t change that.”

“It’s not just about that,” Nana said. “This was my theater program, not yours.”

“WAS your theater program,” Heejin said.

With a roar, Nana jumped at Heejin, and the two girls fell to the floor, clawing and pushing at each other. I watched them get tangled up with each other, then realized I should probably step in. I pulled Nana off of Heejin.

“Hey, whoa, calm down.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Nana snarled at Heejin.

Heejin dusted herself off and got up. “Fine, big sis. You want me to give you the lead role? Come walk with me. I have an idea for a wager.”

Nana frowned, trying to tell if Heejin was serious.

“Fine,” she said, hesitant. “But this better be good.”

“Oh, it’ll be VERY good,” Heejin said with a look at me. “Now come. Time for some sister talk.”

I watched the two sisters walk away, deep in conversation. Heejin glanced back in my direction, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether this wager involved me.

—

A few days passed. Rehearsals began in earnest, but Hanjae kept stopping Heejin and me midway through our scenes together.

“I don’t believe the passion,” he snapped. “You two touch each other like robotic, not sexy.”

Heejin flushed with embarrassment. The rest of the rehearsal she was withdrawn, not willing to look me in the eye. We went through our scenes, but if anything, she was colder and more mechanical than before.

After rehearsal, I pulled her aside in the hallway. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Heejin said.

“Don’t worry about what Hanjae said. He thinks you have to be mean to get the best performances out of people.”

“Maybe he’s right, though.” She looked around, making sure no one could hear. “Because I don’t know anything about sex.”

I spotted an empty classroom down the hall and pulled Heejin into it. She looked like she was about to cry. I put my hands on her shoulders.

“You’re doing a great job, you’re a great, and you don’t need real-life experience to get into the role. We’ll both figure it out, it’s only the first week of rehearsals.”

“What if I can’t figure it out?”

“You will.”

Heejin nodded, sniffling. She smiled shyly. “Plus, I’ve got you to teach me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You obviously know a lot about sex and everything,” Heejin said, embarrassed. “I can hear you and my sister sometimes.”

I didn’t know how to feel about that. Heejin flushed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t listen, I know, but... it’s sexy to hear how much you love each other’s… bodies. I’ve never... done it, so I don’t know.”

“Yeah, Nana said as much.”

There was a charged pause. Glancing down, I could see Heejin’s nipples through her shirt. Did she never wear a bra around me? Was that on purpose? My cock was quickly getting hard.

“Hanjae said we really needed to commit to the role,” Heejin said. “That includes the romance of it, right? The characters are supposed to feel each other up.”

“Yeah, but...”

“But what? So you’re dating my sister, who cares? We have a play to do. She understands that the show must go on.”

Heejin took my hand, then guided me to her breast. As I felt the soft, firm flesh of her tits beneath her sweater, I realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I could feel her nipple hardening under my touch. Her breasts were unbelievably shapely even without a bra, standing perfectly from Heejin’s chest. I let out a breath, impressed. Heejin smiled.

“What do you think?”

“They’re... amazing.”

“Not too big? I know Nana’s are more petite.”

“You two have some of the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen,” I said truthfully.

Heejin smiled. “It must run in the family.”

“You’ve never been told what incredible breasts you have?”

“You’re the first one to get an up-close view. I’ve never even had a boyfriend,” she admitted. “I’ve been too busy with theater.”

“Wow.” I realized I was still cupping her breast and quickly took my hand away, embarrassed. She laughed that same cute laugh.

“You can touch them all you want,” she said. “It feels nice.”

I wanted to keep feeling her up. What guy would say no, in my position? But I cleared my throat and took a step back.

“We should get to practicing,” I said. “We’ll have to have something to show for today.”

Then Heejin said something I’ll never forget.

“Sometimes I touch myself to the sound of you two,” Heejin said, quiet. “Right at the end, when she’s begging you to cum inside her, that’s my favorite.”

My mouth was dry. “You touch yourself to the sound of us?”

“My sister must have a really amazing pussy, if she can get you to cum inside her so much.”

A picture of it sprang to my mind: two plump outer lips that sealed tightly, with the inner lips only visible when she spread her legs. A fuzzy dusting of light hair. Maybe a drop of my cum oozing from her. Nana’s small nipples, twin peaks further up her lithe body.

“Wow, you’re hard.” Heejin was staring directly at my cock.

“Yeah...”

She reached out her small hand to feel me. I inhaled sharply, taking her hand.

“Don’t, Heejin.”

“Nana won’t know.”

“I’ll know.”

“You’re just helping me. I need to practice being sexual for the role.”

I stared at her. Was she serious? What was she even proposing?

She took my hand and guided it under her dress. As she used her other hand to pull aside her panties, my hand came in contact with a wet, shaven pussy. I ran my middle finger up her hot slit, making her moan. Then I pulled my hand away, realizing what I was doing.

“Wait, Heejin...”

“Yeah. Let me do you.”

She unbuckled my belt and undid the button of my trousers, maintaining eye contact with me. Before I knew it she was on her knees, pulling down my pants. I wish I could say that I pushed her away, but I was horny enough to let it continue without protest. I wanted her badly enough to invite whatever catastrophe lay down the road.

Heejin took out my cock, which was harder than I remember it ever being.

“Wow,” she said with awe. “I guess I didn’t expect it to be so… big.”

She gave it a squeeze, then stroked it. I throbbed in her hand.

“I’ve never touched one before.”

“You don’t have to —”

Heejin sank her mouth onto my cock. The sudden warmth and wetness was heavenly. Her tongue swirled around my shaft and she slid her lips back up until just the tip was in her mouth. I noticed that she was still wearing lipstick from rehearsal.

“Give me pointers,” she said, her words muffled around my dick.

“Don’t worry about that,” I replied. “Just explore. I’m probably not going to be able to last for long anyway.”

At this Heejin smiled and eagerly set to sucking my cock. It seemed she took that as a challenge. She started slow, letting me feel the warmth and softness of her inexperienced mouth, then began to speed up. Sure enough, I felt the tingly beginnings of a climax. It was unsurprising; my girlfriend’s younger sister, a beautiful woman with a perfect mix of innocence and sexiness, was blowing me.

I swelled in her mouth, unable to hold back my orgasm for much longer. Her ruby red lips were stretched around my cock, working up and down ceaselessly. I watched my cock disappear into her mouth over and over.

“Heejin, I’m getting close...”

In response, she just kept bobbing her warm, wet mouth on my dick, taking as much of me in her mouth as she could. She looked up at me, big brown eyes that looked so innocent, right over a mouth full of cock, and I could hold back no longer.

“Heejin, I’m going to cum...”

I had barely finished the sentence before my cock began to spurt cum into Heejin’s waiting mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise but she kept on sucking me as I came. I shook, my hands going involuntarily to her head, trying to push deeper into her throat, filling her mouth with my semen. I rode out my climax between her full lips, cumming intensely until a small bit of my cum dripped out around my cock.

She looked up at me, slowing the up-and-down motion on my shaft, then swallowed her mouthful my cum. With her pinkie finger, she brought the one escaped drop of cum back to her mouth and swallowed that, too.

“Good?” Heejin asked, breathing hard.

“Best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

Heejin smiled and kept licking me. When I was sucked dry and she had completely cleaned off my cock, she took me out of her mouth and looked up at me.

“There you go. Nice and spotless for when you fuck my sister later.”

I didn’t know what to say or do. “Oh my god, Heejin.”

Heejin planted an adorable and sexy kiss on the tip of my cock, which shone with her spit.

“Now when I hear you tonight, I’ll know you’re thinking about cumming in my mouth when you finish in my sister.”

—

“It was a little awkward having to kiss,” I said to Nana at home. “But we got through it.”

Nana kissed me, long and deep. “Who’s the better kisser?”

In truth, my initial thought was Heejin. She had certainly kissed my cock better than Nana did. Or maybe it was just the forbidden risk of it all. Either way, I wasn’t going to tell her anything about her younger sister’s skill in the romance department.

“You,” I said, sweeping her into my arms. She grinded into me, making me hard, and I walked her to the bed.

Later, as I fucked Nana’s tight, wet pussy, my thoughts kept being dragged back to Heejin’s lips on me, her rosy cheeks stretching as I filled her mouth with my cum. When I groaned and emptied myself into Nana, I imagined it was Heejin below me, her legs spread, soaking pussy stretched around my cock. I imagined driving hard into her tight young slit and filling her up.

When Nana moaned out for me to cum inside her, I knew Heejin was somewhere close by, listening. And despite the fact that it was the second time that day, I came harder than usual.

—

The next weeks of rehearsal raced by. Heejin and I were so busy with school and rehearsal that we didn’t get the opportunity to be alone together, but she’d hold my gaze just long enough to let me know she was still thinking about me and what we’d done. Our love scenes onstage became more realistic, to the delight of Hanjae. We were now kissing, pawing at each other, and fake dry humping with ease. I suppose it was hard to hold back romantically once she’d swallowed my cum.

My sex life with Nana improved drastically, wound up as I always was from pretending to fuck her little sister in rehearsal. I fucked Nana like an animal, filling her up several times a night, cumming inside her with reckless abandon.

“You should be quieter,” Nana panted to me one night as I withdrew my cock from her cum-filled pussy. “Heejin’s in the other room, she must hear us sometimes.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Sorry.”

Nana reached down and caught some of my cum as it dripped out of her. She brought her fingers to her mouth, licking them off.

“You’ve been cumming more than usual,” she said.

I cuddled up to her from behind. “You’ve been sexier than usual.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, with a hint of scepticism in her voice. “Maybe.”

—

Before we knew it, the dress rehearsal had arrived. It was the day before the show, and everything had to go perfectly here, or it’d be a bad opening night. I murmured “Break a leg” to everyone I passed in the winding hallways backstage.

As the lead, I had my own dressing room. It was a rare luxury, but better than getting naked in front of everyone in the communal dressing rooms. I began to take off my street clothes when I heard a knock at the door.

“One minute, I’m changing,” I called out. I was only in my underwear.

The door opened anyway. In the mirror, I saw Heejin enter, wearing a robe and carrying her costume. She shut the door behind her before anyone could see her.

“Sorry to drop in on you like this,” Heejin said apologetically, “but I can’t get this bodice thingy on. Every time I try, I feel like it’s suffocating me.” She shook the costume in frustration and put it on the rack in my small dressing room.

“Do you want help?”

“Yeah, thanks. Maybe I’m just nervous, or maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that cheeseburger yesterday.”

I laughed. “It’ll be fine. Let me try.”

She hugged me tightly. “Thank you, Suho. You’re the best.”

Then she slipped the robe off her shoulders. Underneath, Heejin was completely naked. She wasn’t even wearing panties under the robe. Her breasts were like a painting. Smooth, firm, round, perfectly proportioned to her toned body. My eyes traveled down from her perfect breasts, firm and large on her petite frame with beautifully hard nipples, to —

“God, Heejin.”

Her pussy, which had been completely hairless when I first touched it all those weeks ago, now had a fuzzy dusting of close-trimmed pubic hair.

“Trying to copy Nana, I guess. Since you like hairy pussies.”

I didn’t think to ask why she knew her older sister had a hairy pussy.

I reached out my hand to Heejin. I cupped her cheek, then traced my fingers down her neck to her collarbone, then down the beautiful slope of her breasts, stopping to lightly pinch her nipple. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling.

I brought my hand further down, down her stomach and over the triangle of hair between her legs, then felt the wetness between her lips. I slowly inched one finger up into Heejin’s little pussy, feeling how tight she was inside. I’d been in her mouth, and I’d touched the outside of her pussy, but this was as far inside her as I’d gone.

Just as Heejin leaned in to kiss me, hand going to my throbbing erection, there was a knock on the door.

“Suho? Can I come in?” It was Nana.

Heejin dashed backwards, looking for a place to hide. The room was small and didn’t have many options, but Heejin pressed her naked form behind the rack of costumes.

I cursed myself, trying to pull on my pants. My finger was still wet with Heejin’s juices, which wouldn’t do. Without thinking, I stuck my finger in my mouth, tasting her.

“Suho?”

“Coming!” I answered the door, just wearing my costume pants. I kept the door mostly closed, to stop Nana from coming in.

Nana was in the doorway holding a clipboard and wearing a headset. As the understudy for the main role, she had to have some role in the show, so she was a stage hand.

“It’s five minutes until showtime,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She leaned in to kiss me. Without thinking, I kissed her back, then cursed inwardly. I hoped my mouth didn’t taste like pussy. When she pulled away, I thought I detected a slight frown on her face, but she turned and left without another word.

I closed the door. Heejin, still naked, stepped out from behind the costume rack. She had the most beautiful body I’d ever seen.

“Five minutes,” I repeated to her.

“Thank you, five,” she said with a grin. “Now, want to fit me into this dress?”

It took some manoeuvring to tie the bodice up, and Heejin gasped at the tight fit that pressed her breasts up high, but there was no time to enjoy it. We had to get into our positions.

As Heejin quickly pulled her stockings up, I got a glimpse up her dress to her pussy.

“You’re not wearing underwear,” I said.

“I know.” Heejin quickly hurried to the door, her breasts bouncing in the corset. “See you onstage!”

—

The knowledge that Heejin wore nothing under her heavy costume dress made the onstage love scenes even more enjoyable. At the point in the show where we were supposed to simulate sex on a bed behind the main action onstage, Heejin whispered to me between kisses.

“This is the first time Nana’s seen us do this, you know.”

Sure enough, I could see Nana sitting with other crew members in the audience. Thanks to the lights, I couldn’t make out her expression, but I knew she was watching.

“Let’s give them a show,” Heejin said, and grinded herself against me even more sexually.

By the end of the show, I was so sexually frustrated that everything could have set me off. Heejin’s enticing young body was so tantalizingly close, yet so far. As we took our mock bows and headed offstage, Heejin whispered in my ear: “Wait for me in the dressing room.”

I waited for Heejin in the dressing room for almost a half hour. She never showed. When I finally got fed up waiting and came out, I found Nana and Heejin seated together. Heejin had changed back into her clothes, but I couldn’t help wondering whether she’d put underwear on.

“Hey, you two.”

“You took forever in there,” Nana said.

Heejin gave me a “Sorry” look.

“Great job, you guys!” Nana said. She seemed genuinely excited for us. “I think that went great!”

Heejin and I smiled and agreed.

“A couple screw-ups,” Heejin said, “but nothing that can’t be fixed before tomorrow.”

—

When we got home later that night, Nana pulled me away into her room. She was on me immediately, hungrily pulling off my clothes.

“God, you looked so sexy onstage,” she said. “I wanted to jump you right in front of everybody.”

She pulled down her pants, then mounted me, bottomless. She moved her soaking slit against my painfully hard cock, but stopped short of slipping me inside her yet.

“It was weird seeing you kiss Heejin at first,” she said, “but by the end I kind of liked it.”

She angled my cock into her pussy and began to sink her tight, wet heat down onto me. My face contorted with pleasure.

“Do you get hard when you’re with Heejin onstage?” Nana asked as she slowly fucked me.

I was shocked by the question. My shock must have shown on my face, because Nana laughed and kissed me. We were fully connected, my cock deep inside her and her petite body pressed into mine.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s a physical response, not something you can control.”

My cock throbbed inside her. I was nearing orgasm.

“Tell me,” she said, speeding up on my cock.

“Sometimes, I guess,” I said, breathing heavily. I was going to cum.

“That’s okay, baby,” Nana moaned in my ear. “She can feel you hard all she wants, as long as you bring that cum home to where it belongs… right up inside me.”

With that, I shot off in her, pumping her full of cum with deep, powerful strokes. The feeling of me cumming in her set Nana off too, and together we came while I was still inside her. Finally, I pulled out of her, looking down at her tight pussy with open lips, between which my cum dribbled out. Nana lay back on the bed, her legs spread, still wearing her shirt. She yawned, stretching, and as she did so she lifted her pussy off the bed, causing another dribble of cum to come out.

“I didn’t realize how tired I was,” Nana said. “Come cuddle me.”

I held her until I felt her breathing become slow and regular, indicating that she’d fallen asleep. Then I got up and padded out into the hallway, heading in the direction of the bathroom, though I knew what awaited me before I got there.

Halfway down the hallway, Heejin’s door opened and she came out wearing a sheer nightie. Even in the low light, I could see her nipples poking through the fabric. Her eyes went to my half-erection clearly visible through my tight boxers. She beckoned me inside, and I followed silently. She pulled off her nightie, then turned to face me, fully naked. Heejin led me to the bed and pulled down my boxers.

“This is too risky,” I whispered. “What if your sister comes to check where I am?”

Heejin touched my cock, still wet and sticky with residual slickness from Nana’s pussy.

“Then she’ll see me tasting her on your cock.” Heejin licked slowly up the side of my shaft, savoring the taste of her older sister’s pussy on me. “Mm. Nana has a delicious pussy, doesn’t she?”

“Sisters don’t usually taste each other’s pussies.”

“I’m not getting it from the source,” Heejin said quietly as she bobbed her mouth up and down on my cock. “I’m still just sucking a dick. Nothing wrong with that. Besides...” I saw Heejin dip her finger into her own pussy, then bring it to her mouth and suck it clean. “I have to make sure I taste better than her.”

She resumed blowing me. Despite just having finished fucking Nana, I found myself getting close to cumming in Heejin’s mouth. She felt me swell and pulled me out. I was about to ask what she was doing, when she climbed up on the bed and spread her legs. Light came through her window, falling across her perfect body and her glistening, hairy vulva.

“I want you to fuck me. Be my first.” She said seductively.

As she spoke, she delicately dipped her middle finger into herself. I watched as her tight lips parted to accept her finger.

The prospect of fucking the freshman beauty was enticing. But I’d been spurting cum in her sister’s pussy barely 15 minutes ago. That was no way to lose your virginity.

“I just finished with Nana, I’m not gonna be able to go again.”

“I’ll blow you until you’re ready to put it in me —”

“Heejin,” I said firmly. “We can’t have sex.”

“But the whole show today, I could feel you hard against me,” Heejin said. Her voice quavered. “What is it? You don’t like me? You’d rather fuck Nana than me?”

“No, no, it’s not that at all —”

“Then what? Does she have a better pussy than me?”

“Heejin — it’s not like that”

I climbed onto the bed, moving up to kiss Heejin. As I did, I pressed my body to hers, feeling her hard nipples against my chest and her wet pussy against the outside of my boxers. I grinded into her for a moment, but stopped it before it went any further by beginning to kiss my way down her body. First her breasts, then her toned stomach...

“Fuck...” Heejin breathed. I grinned inwardly; two months ago, the sheltered freshman wouldn’t have been cursing. Now I was about to eat her pussy.

I kissed Heejin’s inner thighs, teasing her and making her thrust up towards me, trying to get me to put my mouth on her. But I kept kissing anywhere but her pussy, feeling the heat and wetness increasing with her arousal.

Finally, I licked Heejin’s pussy. She tasted incredible, clean and womanly, and she was so sensitive and worked up that it only took ten or fifteen seconds before I could feel her body stiffening in anticipation of an orgasm. I kept up pressure on her clit, steadily working my tongue in circles.

Heejin grabbed me by the head, involuntarily mashing my face into her pussy, then came with a great shuddering moan. I reached up one hand, slick from finger-fucking her, to silence her, but all she did was suck on my fingers while I kept licking her from below.

When she was finally done with her long orgasm, she brought my head up to her to sloppily make out. My lips were covered with the taste of her, but she clearly wasn’t shy about tasting herself.

“Oh my god, you’re amazing,” Heejin said, panting. “But we have to return you to Nana soon.”

Heejin put her mouth back on me, blowing me with eagerness. After making her cum with my mouth, I was pretty worked up. It didn’t take me long to unload in her mouth for the second time. Now I wasn’t so timid, fucking her mouth as I spurted cum down her throat. She moaned sexily and happily drank me up.

She opened her mouth so I could see the mouthful of my semen she’d collected. Then she put two fingers in her mouth, took some of my cum, and…

“Heejin, no —”

Heejin stuck her cum-covered fingers inside her pussy. I could only watch as she fucked herself to another small orgasm, her fingers taking the place my cock would have been. She’d still found a way to get my cum in her pussy, and gasped in pleasure as she worked my semen in and out of her already sopping slit.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry, Suho,” she breathed. “I had to.”

“That’s dangerous, Heejin. You could get pregnant.”

“I don’t like when Nana gets things I don’t. And that includes your cum in her.”

—

Opening night came at last. I was overwhelmed with nerves, both excited at the prospect of putting on a great show and nervous to think what would happen with Heejin. The girl had been acting bolder and bolder, and I worried she’d try to do something extreme.

But as the evening before the show wore on, my fear faded. Heejin ignored me completely, focused on getting into character. Everyone buzzed with excitement and nervousness, and I soon was so caught up in it that I forgot almost entirely about the strange sexual relationship I had been building up with Heejin.

It was a function of the show, I told myself. Just us getting into character and letting that character bleed over into our real lives. But once the show was done, I would return to Nana’s side, Heejin would go off and find herself a boyfriend, and everything would be right in the world again.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

I don’t know if I even believed it at the time.

I checked my costume in the mirror of my dressing room one last time before nodding, satisfied, and joining the fray.

“Break a leg,” Nana said, kissing me briefly before heading out to the theater to find her seat. I watched her go. For all she knew, I felt as awkward as her about this whole situation. But in truth my feelings were more complicated than that.

Heejin and I waited with the other actors in the wings as Hanjae introduced the show. I looked up to find Heejin staring at me intensely.

I gave her “What’s going on?” look.

Heejin, in response, lifted up her skirt ever so slowly. She was standing behind the other actors, so I was the only one who could see. As she flashed me, I saw with a twinge that, like yesterday, she was wearing no panties. I caught a short peek of her pussy.

That’s when I knew things weren’t going back to normal.

The show began normally, everyone hitting their marks and remembering their lines perfectly.

The trouble came when Heejin and I fell into bed together at the rear of the stage. Our characters were supposed to be having sex under the nose of Heejin’s character’s husband, but while the scene went on in front of us Heejin kissed me and pressed her body into mine harder than usual.

Carefully, timing her motions with our stage humping, Heejin reached down between us and unbuckled my pants.

“What are you doing?” I said quietly, between kisses.

“Shhhh,” was all she said.

I looked out into the audience. Despite the stage lights, I could see Nana’s blonde hair in the crowd. She was watching us.

Under the covers, Heejin pulled down my boxers and fished my cock out. I was hard and huge in her small hand.

“Heejin, no —”

Heejin angled herself on top of me, pressing her stomach into my cock, trapping it between us. I prayed that was it, that all she wanted was a little humping, but then she slid up me. My cock, still hard and flat against my stomach, came into contact with her hairy mound. I tried to move away, but she was on top and we had to keep doing the scene, or we’d draw attention and get caught.

I felt a wet heat come into contact with my cock. She grinded her pussy up and down the underside of my cock, getting it wet with her slickness.

My tip was slotted between her wet lips. She thrust her hips up and down, letting the tip of my cock run along the cleft of her pussy and come to rest right at her soaked opening, teasing me each time with a tantalizing dip of my cockhead into her pussy. I could do nothing to stop it.

“Heejin,” I whispered. “please don’t do this, look at how many people are watching... and we’re unprotected.”

“That’s the whole fun of it all,” she said. “I want you bare inside me.”

She began to slide me inside her. My cock parted her trimmed lips and pushed into her inch by inch, her wet cunt stretching slowly to accommodate me. She was soaking wet, hot and beautifully tight, the kind of pussy that made me forget every other woman I’d ever been inside of, because this one seemed designed for my cock. I went slowly, the pleasure coursing through us.

When I had sunk into her to the hilt, we stopped.

“There we go,” Heejin breathed. “Now Nana can’t call me a virgin anymore.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but at that moment Heejin and I remembered we were onstage. We had been so distracted by our actual sex that we’d forgotten to simulate it for the audience.

“We need to keep going,” I whispered, pulling her tighter to me.

“I agree,” she said, bringing her pussy up and down, fucking me with an aching slowness. I wondered if Nana had ever told Heejin what I liked, or if she knew instinctively. God, she was tight. As I rolled my head over, I spotted Nana’s blonde mane in the audience.

“Nana’s watching,” I breathed into Heejin’s ear. My cock throbbed inside her, egged on by the risk and mind-bending pleasure Heejin’s young, perfect body was giving me.

“Good,” Heejin panted quietly. “I want her to watch as her boyfriend cums inside me.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that she wouldn’t pull me out. I didn’t want to cum in her, risking a pregnancy that would make the entire situation far worse. Knocking up your girlfriend’s little sister is never a good place to be, so I tried to move backward, but she was on top and I was too deep in her.

“You’re not on birth control,” I gasped, aware of how quickly the tight wetness of her around my cock was bringing me towards orgasm.

“I know. We’re being really bad.”

“Heejin, Heejin, fuck —”

My climax was approaching like a freight train. I couldn’t help it — I thrust into Heejin’s clenching tunnel with ferocity, her breasts bouncing slightly in the corset, right at my face. I wanted to reach out and tear off her dress, kiss her everywhere, but could do nothing but chastely kiss Heejin’s lips, otherwise the audience might know something was too real about the way I was thrusting into her under her dress and the covers.

“Cum in me,” she whispered in my ear. “Cum in your girlfriend’s little sister. Fill up my tight little pussy in front of everyone.”

I could feel her inner walls flexing, milking me. My cock swelled within her. With one last glance at Nana, I thrust up into Heejin’s pussy and let go.

I nearly blacked out in pleasure as I shot spurt after spurt of cum up into Heejin. She gasped, too loud, as my warmth splashed into her, then began to shudder and moan into my shoulder, grinding her clit hard into me. We were cumming simultaneously, me emptying all I had into her, and her body shaking, racked with pleasure. At that moment I didn’t care that people were watching. I just wanted her.

I quickly filled up her unprotected pussy with my cum, until I could feel it dripping out of her as I kept thrusting. She rode out the rest of her climax on my cock.

We’d both finished quicker than the allotted time for our lovemaking onstage, so we were forced to keep fucking even as my cock softened and came out of her cum-soaked pussy. I could feel cum dripping out of her slit onto my cock, and hoped none of it got on the costume.

Finally, the lights went down and the scene change began. Heejin and I rolled off each other with one final kiss. I tucked my cock back into my pants and she pulled her dress down. We went our separate ways in the soft light of the glow in the dark stage tape.

“Great job,” Hanjae whispered to me backstage. “Very believable.”

—

As we bowed to the applauding audience, Heejin squeezed my hand. Over the din, she said into my ear: “I can still feel you inside of me.”

“Good,” I said back.

I made my way to the dressing room, congratulating my cast mates on the way. Everyone was excited from a successful show, but I was still dazed, trying to work through what had happened with Heejin onstage. Had anyone seen us? Had we left behind any evidence? Would she get pregnant? Would Nana find out?

With all these thoughts swimming in my head, I opened the door to my dressing room. Nana was already there, waiting for me.

“Hello,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I shut the door behind me.

“You and Heejin did amazing work out there,” Nana said. She kissed me. “This time I couldn’t wait until we got home to fuck you.”

I knew I couldn’t have sex right away, seeing as I was still covered with the evidence of Heejin fucking me.

“Nana, wait —”

Nana pulled down my pants, revealing my semi-hard cock. It was shiny, still wet with Heejin’s pussy fluids and a residual amount of my cum. Nana grabbed it, feeling the wetness. She dropped to her knees.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just fucked somebody.”

I tried to stop her, but she stuffed my cock into her mouth before I could say anything. Nana swirled her tongue around my slick cock, looking directly up at me. I watched, rapt, as she sucked her little sister’s juices off my hardening shaft, moaning around my cock. Was she... enjoying this? She had to know it was Heejin’s pussy she was tasting.

I tried to pull away.

“Wait, Nana, I’m sorry, but onstage... Heejin slipped me into her...”

Nana lifted off my cock. “You don’t think I recognize the taste of my little sister on my boyfriend’s cock? You two are fine actors, but not good enough to make real sex look fake. I could see every second of you coming inside her.”

At that, my dick jumped in Nana’s hand. She engulfed my cock with her warm mouth, bobbing up and down, sucking me. Then she looked up at me again.

“It was so fucking sexy; it was almost worth losing.”

Losing? Losing what? Before I had time to ask, we were interrupted by a voice from behind us.

“How do I taste?”

Heejin was at the door to the dressing room, still wearing her costume from the show, her breasts pressed high in the corset. She closed and locked the door behind her.

Nana continued to suck my dick for a few moments, like it was the most normal thing in the world for her younger sister to watch.

Heejin smiled, watching her big sister slobber on the cock that had so recently finished inside her. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Heejin sat up on the makeup table, pulled up her dress, and spread her legs, revealing her pink pussy beneath that trimmed bush. As she spread her plump lips with her fingers, my cum trickled slowly out of her tight hole.

At that, Nana finally slowed to a stop on my cock. She popped me out of her mouth and wiped away the juices coating her lips. Heejin was slowly fingering herself, rubbing my cum around her folds.

“The terms of the bet were clear,” Heejin said, looking at Nana. “If I didn’t manage to make him cum in me tonight, I had to bow out of the show and let you have the lead role. But if I did make him cum in me...”

“I know,” Nana said. She got up and crossed to Heejin.

“Sorry, but what is going on?” My head was spinning. This had all been some kind of competitive game between the two sisters?

“If I got you to fill my pussy with your cum onstage, a feat your girlfriend said was impossible, she’d have to lick it out of me.” Heejin spread her pussy lips with her fingers.

Nana lowered herself to her little sister’s sperm-filled pussy.

My jaw dropped as Nana reached out her tongue and made contact with her younger sister’s pussy. She licked from the bottom up, parting Heejin’s folds and sinking her tongue into her hole. I saw a pearl of my cum on the tip of Nana’s tongue. When she reached Heejin’s clit, Nana swallowed my cum, then licked Heejin’s clit, making the younger girl moan. Nana ran her tongue back down Heejin’s little pussy, then repeated the process. She managed to get some, but not all of my cum from Heejin’s pussy.

I could see Heejin’s breathing becoming ragged, see her body stiffening as Nana licked her. She was going to cum from her big sister’s mouth.

“Wait wait wait, fuck, oh god...”

Nana looked up at her sister, smiling as she licked her pussy more intensely. Now it wasn’t about licking my cum out of her slit. It was about making the younger girl cum. And cum Heejin did, her body seizing and her breasts jiggling as she held Nana’s face to her quivering pussy, riding out an intense orgasm on her sister’s tongue.

Finally Nana slowed to a stop and pulled back from Heejin’s shiny pink pussy.

“There,” she said, wiping her face off. “You won, fair and square.”

Heejin looked over at me. My cock was still out, standing up hard and throbbing. She got a mischievous smile on her face and began to pull her dress up over her head.

“How about a double or nothing bet?”

Nana looked over at me. “What do you have in mind?”

“We trade off. One minute each. Whoever can get him to cum first, wins.”

“Wins what?”

I was still shocked by Nana’s eagerness to eat her younger sister’s pussy and bring her to orgasm. Now she was going to agree to Heejin fucking me in front of her? What could be worth that?

“Him.” Heejin, now naked, got on her knees in front of me and slowly began to stroke my cock. “If you manage to make him cum inside you, then I’ll back off Suho and you can have your precious lead role. But if I make him cum inside me, I get him.”

“Easy now, I’m not comfortable with all this,” I said. I didn’t want my dating life determined by a competition between sisters. On the other hand, alternating between the two of them sounded extra hot, and I wasn’t thinking with my head.

“It’ll be fine, baby,” Nana said, stripping down. I could see a huge wet spot on her panties. “Just cum in me, not in her.”

“I don’t know...”

“What’s wrong, Nana? You scared?”

“No,” she said defensively. “I’m more experienced with him. I know how to get him to cum. It’s little miss barely not a virgin who should be worried.”

“Not even an hour ago he was cumming inside me,” Heejin scoffed. “Once he’s felt that, it’ll be hard to go back.”

Nana lay back on the floor, spreading her legs. Heejin leaned down and buried my cock in her mouth, giving it a few sucks before she took it out of her mouth, grabbed it in her hand, and angled it towards Nana’s slit. When my tip was nestled between my girlfriend’s hairy pussy lips, Heejin darted forward and planted a sloppy kiss on Nana’s clit. Nana gasped in pleasure.

“You ready?” Heejin said, straightening up. “And... go!”

I started fucking Nana. The horniness from the whole situation meant I was starting the drive on the fifty-yard line; it wouldn’t take much to bring me over the edge. Nana was wet, wetter than I’d felt her in a long time, and the tight, hot slickness felt heavenly.

“Cum in me, baby, please, please,” Nana moaned, her small tits bouncing with every thrust. “Please do it, baby...”

“Thirty seconds,” Heejin said. One minute was no time at all.

I sped up my thrusts. Nana flexed her inner muscles hard, and the tightness brought me closer, but I didn’t think I would be able to cum before the time ran out. I loved Nana, but after having Heejin, who was sex personified, I’d be lying if I said my sexy but familiar girlfriend matched up.

Heejin started to count down, timing it with my strokes. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...”

“Come on, baby, cum, you know you want to...”

I thrust hard, looking down at Nana’s pussy as it spread open for my cock.

“Five, four, three...”

“Baby...” Nana held onto me tight, but we both knew I wasn’t going to finish. Panting, I slowed down.

“That’s time!” Heejin exclaimed gleefully. “Pull out of her!”

“Fuck,” Nana moaned, disappointed. I withdrew from her, watching as her pussy lips gripped me like they were desperately trying to keep me inside her. Next to Nana, Heejin had her legs spread and her red, aroused, tufted pussy on display.

“Come here,” Heejin said. I positioned myself between her legs. Heejin took my cock and delicately slotted the tip into her. Nana watched, a flush of embarrassment creeping down her neck towards her breasts. I noticed that her nipples were still rock hard on her tits, which, though still perfectly shaped, looked even smaller in comparison to Heejin’s full and perfect ones.

Heejin looked up to her older sister, to make sure she was watching. “Thanks for warming him up for me, big sis.” I pushed an inch into Heejin’s tightness. Both sisters gasped. “Ooh, he’s so nice and slick,” Heejin cooed. “Thanks for the help there, too.”

I pushed all the way into Heejin, until my entire cock was grasped by her snug pussy. We stared at each other intensely. The first time we’d had sex was in the dark, covered so that it would be impossible to see each other. Now, I could drink in every inch of her. Her perfectly round, smooth breasts, nipples standing up straight like pencil erasers, and her neat, perfect pussy clenching my bare cock. I withdrew almost all the way, then drove back into her. Her tits bounced. I slowly built up a rhythm, thrusting into her.

“Of course he’d rather cum in me,” Heejin breathed. “I’m younger, I’m tighter, I’m forbidden...”

For a second, the only sounds were the wet squish of Heejin’s pussy and her quiet moans as I fucked her. Then I heard another slick sound and looked over. Nana’s eyes were glued to her little sister’s tiny, trimmed pussy, which stretched to fit me inside as I drove into Heejin over and over. Nana had her hand between her legs, playing with herself. She was driving her fingers up into her slit with abandon, as wet as I’d ever seen her.

It had only been thirty seconds or so. Fucking Nana had gotten me going, so I was already close. Heejin felt me get bigger inside her and bit her lip, scrunching up her face in pleasure.

“Ooh, I can feel him swelling inside me.”

Nana said nothing, continuing to masturbate. She had apparently already given into the idea that Heejin had won.

“He’s gonna cum in me,” Heejin moaned. “Your boyfriend’s gonna fill up my little cunt and you have to watch.”

Nana looked at me, pleading silently, but Heejin took my face in her hands and made me look at her. She was spread open before me, her body the image of perfection, taking my cock with little gasps of pleasure that were building toward a climax.

“Do it,” she whispered.

And I did. I drove fully into her, my cock jerking as it shot cum into her young pussy. Everyone’s eyes were glued on my cock, splitting Heejin’s lips apart and throbbing with every spurt inside her. Heejin was set off again by the feeling of me filling her up, moaning and shuddering. I watched as her pussy clenched me, quickly filling to the brim. Next to us, Nana’s petite breasts jiggled and she let out a high-pitched gasp, arching her back. She was climaxing at the sight of me cumming inside her little sister.

I kept cumming. Heejin’s small pussy overflowed with my sperm, each thrust pushing some of it out between her tight, hairy lips.

“Put it all into me,” Heejin said between gasps. “Every drop you have.”

After a few more spurts, I withdrew my cock from Heejin’s pussy. Heejin cried out at the sudden emptiness. On my knees, I approached Nana, whose legs were spread as she played with her pussy. I slotted my still-climaxing cock, covered in Heejin’s juices, into my girlfriend’s pussy.

Nana smiled as she felt me thrust into her, her tightness milking the last spurts of my cum.

“Thank you, baby,” she said. “Saving some for me.”

Both sisters lay naked below me, flushed chests heaving; Heejin’s large and firm, Nana’s small and cute. Their legs were spread, showcasing nearly identical haired pussies. And though Heejin’s pussy had more of my cum dripping out of it, as I pulled out of Nana I was happy to see that I had cum enough to see a pearl of semen between her lips, too.

“There,” I said as Heejin and Nana both began to clean off my cock, their lips occasionally touching as they licked me. “Now it’s a tie, and I get both of you.”

“For now,” Heejin said, looking up at me as she ran her tongue up my shaft. “But eventually, one sister always wins."

[808airsoftbros]

Forgotten or Not (Nana/Bae Suzy)

Author: This is a commission hiring from my good friend @elryuse but I added my own edits and twists to it so I hope you all enjoy it. Also if you want to read more of my fics check out my Masterlist

Y/N's POV

The grand dinner event was a whirlwind of glitz and glamour. The air was thick with anticipation as fans worldwide gathered to celebrate K-pop's meteoric rise. As a relatively new member of the scene, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

Suzy and Nana, my two girlfriends, were by my side. Their presence was a comforting balm amidst the chaos. We had been together for several years, our love a quiet, steady force in our lives.

As the evening progressed, I couldn't shake the feeling of a growing divide between the older and newer generations of idols. The younger stars, like Blackpink, exuded a confidence bordering on arrogance. Jennie and Lisa, in particular, were known for their outspoken nature.

I overheard them making derogatory remarks about the older generation, dismissing them as "grandmas" and claiming they were relics of the past. My blood boiled.

“If it weren’t for us we wouldn’t be in this position in the leaderboards!” Taeyeon argued but Jennie simply sniffed.

“Hm. Maybe so but your time is over and there is nothing left for you to give now it’s time make way for new gen idols like us!” Jennie replied and Lisa snickered.

“Enjoy your time Grandma, while it lasts~” Lisa remarked and laughed as they walked away.

I could tell Taeyeon-Noona wanted to say more but she didn’t because we all knew they were right…

I had always admired the pioneers of K-pop. It’s true they had paved the way for artists like me and the fact that our time is nearing but to see them treated with such disrespect was infuriating. Suzy and Nana tried to calm me down.

"Don't do it," Suzy whispered, her voice firm.

"It's not worth it." Nana agreed. "They're just young and naive. They'll learn eventually."

I knew they were right, but my anger refused to subside. As I watched the younger idols perform on stage, I couldn't help but feel a sense of resentment. I had worked hard to get to where I was, and I didn't appreciate being dismissed so easily.

“I know but they didn’t have to be so rude about it!” I pointed out and Nana sighed.

“To tell you the truth… I was just like them when I was there age, when Afterschool debuted we were one of the best there was and for the previous generation of my time, we showed no sympathy in their situation, we thought we were invincible and we’d last forever… But I was wrong, as we got older, dancing and singing along with the ruthless practices got more difficult and eventually our company retired us and were quietly replaced by younger rookie idols and eventually we were forgotten,” Nana explained her story.

“And this cycle will always continue as long as K-pop stands, our companies are always working on training better and stronger idols than will ever be, and eventually as they get older they will soon feel the same as we did, we are lucky enough to still be in the industry as actresses, and in some cases… It doesn’t matter how old or how young idols are, they too will be replaced before they know it,” Suzy finished giving a dead serious look in my eyes.

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about Suzy and Nana's words. They reminded me of the transient nature of fame. One day, I too would be considered outdated and replaced by a new generation of idols.

It was a harsh reality, but it was one that I would have to face. I realized that I had been so focused on proving myself that I had lost sight of what was truly important. I had been so eager to be recognized as a rising star that I had forgotten to appreciate the journey.

The next morning, as I prepared for another event, I felt a newfound sense of perspective. I had faced a challenge, and I had come out stronger on the other side.

I realized that the future of K-pop was bright, and I was excited to be a part of it. As I stepped onto the stage that day, I felt a sense of peace.

I knew that I had a responsibility to the younger generation of idols. I would be their mentor, their guide. And I would do everything in my power to ensure that they were treated with respect.

But most importantly, I would cherish the love and support of my two incredible girlfriends, Suzy and Nana. Their love was a constant in my life, a beacon of light in the ever-changing world of K-pop.

The incident at the dinner event had brought Suzy and Nana even closer to me. The shared experience had deepened our bond, revealing a new level of understanding and empathy between us. Nana, always the practical one, had taken the lead in comforting me in the aftermath of the event.

Her gentle words and warm embrace had provided me with the solace I needed. Suzy, on the other hand, had offered a different kind of support.

Her quiet strength and unwavering belief in me had given me the courage to face the challenges ahead. As time went on, I found myself appreciating the unique qualities of each woman in my life.

Nana's grounded nature and unwavering support provided a sense of stability. Suzy's quiet strength and unwavering belief in me gave me the courage to face any challenge.

Their love for me was a constant in my life, a beacon of light in the ever-changing world of K-pop. Together, we navigated the ups and downs of our careers with grace and resilience.

We celebrated each other's successes and offered support during difficult times. Our bond grew stronger with each passing day, a testament to the power of love and friendship.

~

Five years later…

As five years passed since the dinner event, though may seem little time has passed but it felt a decade, the industry changed drastically than I could ever imagine. Blackpink who were one the worlds most famous K-pop group eventually fell under.

With new groups such as Le Sserafim, IVE, NewJeans, and others debuting, they got off huge while Blackpink went off the leaderboards with their absence of comebacks and attending other events and the same can be said for the previous generation groups.

As for myself, I decided to propose to my two beautiful girlfriends and when they said “yes” I was ecstatic and we got married a month later, and already discussing our retirement from the industry as we believed we’ve earned it after working for years.

One evening, as we sat together on the balcony of our shared apartment, I turned to Suzy and Nana.

"I'm so grateful for you both," I said. "You've made my life so much richer."

Suzy and Nana smiled at me. "We're grateful for you too," Suzy replied.