#like I was someone else trying to write in my style | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teeramoonlover · 11 months

Text

Knock, Knock

Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader x Stu Macher

(NSFW)

This is my first time writing oneshot, let alone smut. English is not my first language so bear with me.

Warning: Reader is a Virgin, Cussing, alot of cursing, knife play, mask kink, bondage, fingering, cunnilingus, deep throat, anal, threesome, and double penetration.

*Bold - Voice modulator, Italic - inner voice

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn't recognize this deep voice talking to you.

“Who’s this?” Instead of hanging up, your gut feeling tells you to continue the conversation with this stranger. Maybe you’ll get something out of it.

“You don’t need to know about me. I just want to talk to you.”

“Now why should I do that? Stranger danger. Didn’t your parents teach you that?” You saunter around the kitchen counter and stare at the sets of kitchen knives. You pull out a cleaver and wait for them to reply.

The stranger chuckled, amused with your response.

“Just want to call you so I get to know you better.”

You poked your tongue inside your cheek. You put the knife back in its place, humming to yourself.

“Alright, Mr Stranger. You got my attention and I'm bored as hell. Shoot your million dollar question.” You leaned your back on the counter, hand in pocket while another's still holding the phone.

“Tell me, do you like scary movies?”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Does The Addams Family count? 1991 is the best.” You shrugged, checking your nails. The voice grumbled, annoyed with your movie choice.

“That’s not even a scary movie. And it’s a kid show.”

“Excuse me, that movie is my fave and you don’t get to judge my beloved Morticia Addams just because I watch a ‘kid show’. Besides, that movie is still considered horror okay. Take examples like Tim Burton’s production. Even though most of his movies are suitable for children, he still wants to insert horror elements so they could find comfort and won’t make them feel scared anymore. You should try Nightmare before Christmas or maybe Edward Scissorhand for starters.” you jested.

“Not my kind of style. Edward is weird as fuck.”

“Oh now you’re crossing the line Mr. Nobody. Fun fact for you, Johnny Deep with or without heavy makeup is hot as fuck. Hell, if there’s any Johnny copycat out there, I’ll ride his dick straight away.” you mused. The audacity of this guy.

The stranger hummed.

Is it creepy that I can see him smiling through the phone?

“You should be careful what you wish for. It might come true.”

“Then, Amen for that. I ain’t regret what I said so if you have a problem with it, you jerked your tiny dick somewhere else.”

He chuckled darkly.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?”

"What if I have one? Or maybe a girlfriend? What ya gonna do about it?” You rolled your eyes.

The phone went dead silent until a deep growl came out on the line. His voice changed to menacing.

“You don’t have a boyfriend. You’re not even lesbian.”

“Slow down tiger. I can change my preference wherever I want. Anyway, congratulations! You’re successful become from a total stranger to a fucking creep. Now no more games with me. What do you want?” You huffed, getting annoyed and a little creep out with his manic voice.

“Oh baby, you think this is a game? I’ll play a real game for ya. Knock, Knock.”

You yelped when you heard someone banging on your front door.

Shit. Wrong move.

You pull out a metal bat under the counter like you knew this would gonna happen and check around, especially every closed door inside the house. You already watched too many horror movies with Randy that you even know where the killer always comes out from.

“I ask you want more time. What the hell do you want from me?”

“You wanna know, you have to play the game with me.”

You jumped when you heard another banging. And this time, at your backyard.

“Knock. Knock.”

You gulped and took a glimpse at your back. As you saw nobody's there, you pressed your back on the wall and focused on the front door.

“Who’s there?”

You make sure all the doors and windows are already locked as your father went out training with his buddies. He says he will be coming home late.

Double. Shit.

“Johnny.”

You innerly scoffed. Oh he likes this game too much.

“Johnny where?”

“Clever girl. Guess.”

You rushed to the front door and took a look outside from the window. No one was there. You blurted out the answer.

“The backyard.”

“Wrong.”

You shrieked as the sound of a crash came out from the living room. You ran there to see a big gape hole at your now shattered window. You scanned the whole room. Only one wooden chair and shattered glass all over the floor.

He couldn’t make it inside that fast. You raised the phone as you heard his voice.

“I give you a second chance. Knock, knock.”

“Oh fuck you with your knock knock shit game! What do you want from me?!”

“I want you…to ride me.”

You inhaled sharply at his answer as you turned around with a bat raised in front of you.

“You’re messing with the wrong person here.” You spitted. He chuckled mockingly, amazed that you still have a bit of spite even though you know you're about to lose the game.

“You should be asking where I am, (Y/N).” He enunciated your name deeply.

Sweat trickle down your temple as you took a step back one at the time. This stranger knowing your name just shot up your nerve haywire.

“Where the fuck are you shithead.”

“Behind you.”

You turned around and hit the phone right to the side of his face.

His Ghostface leather mask to be exact.

He covered his head from the hit with his gloved hand and you took that opportunity to bash his head with your metal bat. He doubles in pain as you hit his back with more force and knocks his feet to the floor. He lay on his back, gripping his back painfully as you stepped on his body.

“Now let’s see who's behind the mask.”

Before you could bend down to grab his mask, the air got knocked out from you as someone rammed from your side. Your head got slam on the floor hard followed by a body that stumbled right above you.

There’s two of them?!

You tried to pry him off from you but it was no use. You could see from your blurred vision that two masked men were now crowded right in front of you.

The first guy above your head took both of your hands and held them tight, giving out a painful moan from you, while the other one sat on top of your low waist between his thighs, securing your legs from moving.

You tried to trash your body only to feel a sharp knife under your throat. You looked up to see the second guy shaking his head.

A warning.

“Looks like you lost the game.” Second ghostface seems satisfied seeing you beneath him. The knife in his hand trailed lower and lower to your neck. You could feel a prick of pain as the knife cut deep at your collarbone.

“Losers need to pay the price.” The first ghostface giggled, bringing out a rope from his black robe and tied your hand above your head.

“Two against one? Really fair, does it?” You gritted your teeth. Even though you’re already at their mercy, your mouth still runs like a goddamn sailor.

“Didn’t know this should be a fair game.” Second ghostface shrugged, still lingering his knife around your neck area.

“So what? You gonna kill me?”

“Careful, you shouldn’t challenge a killer with a knife. Now you said it, that does sound tempting.” The killer dragged down his knife to your waist. The cold of his blade sent chills down your spine as it put pressure on your stomach, emphasizing his words.

You gulped as you eyed the two ghostface. The one that sat on top of you seems like a person you don’t want to mess with. The way his voice held authority, meaning if he wants to kill you, he’ll make sure you’re good as dead. Even though he’s wearing a mask, you could feel his hot gaze on your throat to your collarbone that already bleed out from the small cut. His gloved hand reached out, smearing your oozing blood with his thumb. He loves it, you can tell.

Another one above your head, however he's a different kind of persona. He seems to like goofing around and having fun stabbing his victim. More sadistic, more of an unhinged bastard. If he takes his mask off, you bet he'll be that funny, easy going guy. His head tilted to the side, staring at your body in awe. Like you'll become his biggest meal tonight.

"But since you beat my friend here, I'll give you a chance. If you want to live, you need to do something for me." He hinted at the end of his sentence. The first Ghostface started to laugh hysterically.

Somehow you know what he meant, knowing what they're gonna do to you.

"What do you mean?" You shuddered.

In a split second, he pulled your body and switched position, making you on top of him. You could feel the bulge between your legs as his hands gripped your waist.

"You know what I meant."

Your whole body shivered in fear and excitement. You don’t know why your body react that way. Fear, yes but also excites you?

You already soaked in your panties, though it was the adrenaline of the chase.

You subtly rubbed yourself on his groin. He sighed in content as you kept rubbing his hard on.

“That’s it, babe.” His breath ragged as both his hands moved your hips and pressed deeper to his crotch. His hips thrust to your core, making you let out a soft moan.

You feel someone's hand held the back of your head, turning you to meet the first Ghostface. His gloves were already gone from both hands, as he’s working on to half-done his zipper jeans.

“Open your mouth, kitten." He slipped his thumb, pressing your lips to open. He inserted two fingers in and out as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. They were so long that you gagged as it reached at the back of your throat. When he pulled out his fingers, a string of saliva coated them.

“I’ve never done this before.” Your face was red, embarrassing to admit that you never had sex before.

“We know you’re a virgin.” He whispered. His thumb stroking your lower lip, his mask titled to the side.

“Don't worry about that. We promise to make you feel good, m'okay?" The Ghostface under you sat up, his hand tugged teasingly at your waistband while the other one caressed your cheek. His deep voice is surprisingly tender, luring you in like a moth to his flame.

Without thinking, you nodded at his words.

Beneath those masks, their smirk grew wider, finally getting you hooked with them.

"Lift your hips for me, baby."

He tore his gloves from his hands and guided your hips upward. As you stand on your knees, he tugged down your shorts and panties in one go. You gasped at how rough, desperate he wanted to strip you naked.

He took out his knife and started to rip them in half. You shiver from the cold as your clothes discard aside.

A pair of hands from behind reach out to your breast and fondle them. You whimpered as he pulled and squeezed your nipples. Another hand slipped to your wet cunt, thumb circling your clit.

"Gosh, your pussy is so wet for us. We're just getting started." He mused. Slowly, he inserted two fingers inside you, thumb still rubbing your clit. You shuddered, your back laid on someone's chest, who still continued grasping your breast.

"Look at you, seeking pleasure from two psychotic serial killers. Ain't ya a dirty little slut." The one from behind cackled in manic, enjoying seeing you completely vulnerable for him.

You subconsciously ride your hips with his fingers inside you, reaching your high. Your tied arms pressed in front of his chest as his friend from behind starts to dry hump your ass. You could imagine how big their dicks are, one pressing from the back while the other one underneath your pussy, still finger fuck you.

As if they knew you're about to come, he pulled out his fingers. You let out a small whine, feeling the loss of your pussy to be filled. He dip his finger beneath his mask, groaning in pleasure as he tasted your juices with a mix of blood.

Your hair got clutched from behind and dived you to his tent. When he pulled down his boxer, you were awestruck at how thick and veiny his hard rod is. He tapped his dick on your mouth, precum smeared at your lower lips.

"Like what you see?" He chuckled, seeing you looking at his cock like that got him more turned on.

You flustered, eyeing the two black holes resemble eyes staring at you, silently to gain his permission. He nodded, pushing his tip further into your lips.

You subtly open your mouth, licking his precum and heard his deep groan in return. This made you sucked and licked his tip and moved your hand up and down his length.

He tilted his head back. Though you couldn't see with his mask on, a sense of pride grew in you, pleased to see him feel that way.

"You're sure this is your first time? Fuck, this feels amazing." He bucked his hips in your mouth.

"Open your mouth wide open, tongue down. I'm a deep throat till you swallow all of my cum." You do as he said. He thrust his dick deep in your throat, making you gagged but you held it in.

He fucked your mouth relentless, both his hands keeping you in place. Tears pooling down your face as saliva spilling from your mouth until your nose touches his pelvis. You tapped his thigh, coughing up when he pulled out his dick from your swollen lips.

You're too focused on the man in front of you, that your ass was raised in the air and gasped as you felt a tongue licking at your entrance.

"Damn I can eat this pussy all day." He growled from behind, licking and biting your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tongue does wonders to you.

You gagged as he pounds in and out of your mouth, while from behind a tongue lick deep in your entrance. His nose teasing your clit, earning you a moan vibrating through the dick in your mouth. Both of them release low moans, reaching their high.

You tap his thigh, pull you away from his dick as you feel a knot in your stomach.

"I-I some-something d-down there." You cried out, feel his friend's wet tongue thrust in and out of your cunt. You gasped from sensation, as he's licked your rim hole.

"Then cum all over his mouth, princess. Let him taste every drop." He strokes his dick as you stick your tongue out to his tip. You feel your release as the man behind lapping your juices clean.

"God, she tastes so good. I wanna fuck her wet cunt till she's scream."

The killer in front of you didn't say a word, staring at his friend

"You can't have her. She beat you up, remember?"

"The fuck that's supposed to mean? We won, she lost."

"Correction, you get beat to a pulp and I'm the one stopping it. So, I get the prize and you just, I don't know. Enjoy the show?"

"I'm already hard and you’re telling me just to watch you all over her? Hell no man!"

They way they're talking about you like you aren't there bothers you, but at the same time kind of hot.

You could tell his friend was frustrated, agitated while him with you on his lap stroking his tip to your folds. You whimpered as he nudged his face mask closer to your neck. You could feel his wet tongue licking and sucking at the cut he gave you.

Deep down you know your choice terrifies you but you don't want his friend left behind.

"There's two holes for a reason, ya know." You mumbled low, but somehow both killers caught on to what you said. They both were stunned. Not long after, the one you sit on his lap snickered darkly.

"You're one dirty little virgin. Didn't know you're into that." He gripped your hips closer to his already hard crotch. You blushed at his indication.

Truth is, you stumbled upon a porn magazine from Stu's wardrobe, asking you for his sweatpants as he was in the bathroom. Curiosity kills you when you open the magazine, the page showed a blond woman penetrated by two men, dick in her cunt while another in her ass.

The image haunted you yet deep down you want to know how it feels like, to get banged by two. As you stare at her lustful face, you jump when you hear Billy's voice from outside Stu's room. So, you threw away the magazine and hastily grabbed his shorts. When Billy enters the room, he stares at you intensely. He always does every time you're in his sight. He raised an eyebrow as you gave the shorts, muttered, "Give it to Stu, he wants it." and you made a mad dash out of his room.

You know for the fact that the chances you're getting DP is slim to none. But seeing as of now, your fuzzy brain was like why not.

"You're an angel, you know that? That's why you're perfect for us." The frustrated Ghostface was now like he's in cloud nine when you told him that, hugging you from behind.

"You're meant for us, (Y/N). Remember that." The one with you on his lap was now laying down on the floor, bringing you with him so that your pussy was placed right on his outstretched cock. As his tip penetrated your entrance, you whimpered as the slight discomfort got you. As your tied arms gripped the black cloth of his front, his hand teasing your clit, trying to distract you from the pain.

As he is completely inside you, the discomfort was replaced slowly with pleasure, fullness from his thick length. His sighed in relief, loving his dick snug deep in your pussy like a vice.

"Fuck you're so tight, baby." He rasped as he helped adjust his length inside you. When he felt you ready, he slowly thrust in and out of you, making you moan.

"You like that? You like riding this cock?" His slow thrust became erratic as he rammed your throbbing cunt. Your mouth gaped open, couldn't reform words when he hit you at the right spot.

"Y-yes, right there. Shit! You're so big." You uttered breathlessly, bouncing his dick as he thrust deeper in you.

As you ride him, you feel another one trying to penetrate your asshole. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, stopping you as he continued to push in, hissing at your shoulder.

"S-shit! My cock gonna cut in half if you keep squeezing me like that." He buried his face on your neck as he roughly thrust you in one go, making you scream.

"M'sorry babe. Can't help it."

You try to glare at his face, or more precisely his mask. You could imagine his stupid grin, staring at you adoringly.

This is too much. For you, a virgin and never been fuck let alone anal, this is a lot to take in. You could feel their dicks stretched inside every hole of you down there. You try adjusting to this new stimulation. They’re both moving in sync, in and out of you, feeling both of their dicks rubbing your wall one at the time. It makes you see stars as they fasten their phase.

Skin slapping filled the room, with your moan and their groan in a mix.

“Fuck fuck fuck I’mma cum!” You feel his hand gripping your hips as his thrust turns sloppy. Your body started to shake as the one beneath encircled his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest as he slammed you hard on your g-spot.

You nearly scream from pleasure as orgasm washed over you, followed by the one behind, pumping his seed into your throbbing asshole. Your pussy tightens is all it needs from the one beneath you to paint his cum on your walls.

He gave his one hard, second thrust at your asshole then pulled out his softened cock. The way he stared at his cum spilling from your ass stirred something inside him.

His fingers subconsciously slipped his overflow cum inside your hole. For some reason, he doesn’t want a single drop of his seed leaking out of you.

You take a deep inhale as your eyes flutter close, trying to calm from your euphoric state. You could hear his heartbeat thumping as your head laid on his chest, with him too catching his breath.

The only thing you remember is feeling a peck on your forehead and a kiss from your nape, with a deep raspy voice you manage to hear before exhaustion overtook your body.

“That’s my good girl.”

After you pass out…

“Man, that’s the best thing happen in my life!” Stu sighed, satisfied as he pulled off his Ghostface mask and slipped in his now soft dick in his pants. He looked over at his friend who was still lying on the ground with their favorite girl on top of him.

“You're lucky I came up with this plan. Knew it our girl had same fantasies like us.” He grinned, smiling like an idiot, while Billy too slowly took off the mask.

“If you didn’t pull out that porn magazine, she wouldn’t even think about it, genius.” He murmured as he stroked your arm. He sighed in relief with his eyes closed, hearing your soft snores calmed him.

Maybe they could pay you another visit, and it will be on nice bed this time.

And sure as hell he'll make sure of that.

#billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #poly ghostface x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #scream 1996 #scream fanfic

4K notes · View notes

strawberrypoundtown · 3 months

Note

Hi! I’m a big fan of your work and your writing style.

If you’re still open to prompts(no worries if not):

Perhaps an incubus who falls in love with it’s mark, and struggling to remain composed or ‘professional’ due to their feels?

Please and thank you ❤️

(Omg I love this idea. Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like what I did with it! I'm so sorry this took so long to complete. I wanted to try and do something different with this one to experiment a bit more. Any advice or critique is welcome 😁 I do want to make a part 2 for this eventually, but I honestly have no idea when I'll actually be able to write it. Until then, any ideas for the 2nd part (or a name for him) are more than welcome! Without further adieu, please enjoy the show! - 🍓)

Incubus x Fem!Reader

After starting work at a new office, you've been trying to ignore your incubus coworker and his countless attempts to invite you into the supply closet, or his home after work hours. It's not until he admits that he doesn't just want a one-night stand that you might give him a chance...

Contains: tentacles, sexual tension, bondage (tentacles), gagging, grinding

This wasn't supposed to happen. It never took him more than a few days to convince someone to go home with him. Usually, he was able to do it in a matter of hours, and they ended up bent over his desk. Why were you so difficult? You were just a human. The most beautiful human he had ever seen walk into the office, but just a human either way.

Then why did you turn him down everytime he even walked up to you? Sure he had a rep, but it was a good one. A lot of the other girls at the office considered him good for stress relief, so why wouldn't you let him show you that? Or more importantly, why did he care so much that you kept rejecting him? He couldn't wrap his head around it. He had been rejected in the past and was never all that affected by it. But why did your rejections hurt so badly?

He couldn't feed on anyone else until he had you. The thought of feeding on anyone but you made him feel nauseous. Everyone else smelled terrible in comparison. He even almost gagged once when he was in a morning meeting, and you had called in sick.

You were like a breath of fresh air, and your kindness towards everyone in the office since you arrived made him annoyed. Some of the other monsters in the office were starting to flirt with you after you had rejected him the first time. It made him so angry that you were torturing him like this.

He was done with the casual approach at this point. He couldn't stand having people look at you like he did. He wanted you all to himself, at least for one night. He isn't supposed to get attached to his marks, but he couldn't help it. You had ruined him by simply existing. Everyone he looked at that could be a potential mark were nothing compared to you. They didn't have your body, your voice, your eyes, your smile, or your scent. He just wanted to drown himself in you just once to purge his urges at least, but you wouldn't let him do that.

But today was different. He had a plan. Your team had a short meeting that morning, and he had pretended to leave first, instead waiting outside the door until everyone else had left. He noticed you always stayed back for a few moments to yourself for whatever reason, often just cleaning, but this time, you were going to be staying back for another reason.

All of a sudden, he heard giggling from inside. Your giggling. It was followed by a masculine laugh and the disgusting scent of werewolf flooding his senses. He growled and peered through the crack in the door to see you smiling and giggling with a werewolf that sat next to you during the meeting. His claws dug into the doorframe as he tried to listen in while looking at you through the crack in the door.

"Oh, you're too funny." you said with a sigh, wiping a tear from your eye as you stared up at the handsome young werewolf.

"Why, thank you (Y/n). I take pride in my sense of humor." he said with a cocky smile, leaning into your space as he spoke.

"You should. I always laugh when we talk." You said softly with a sweet smile, seemingly leaning towards him as well.

"Well, how about I get you to laugh later tonight? Why don't we grab drinks after work tonight? There's a bar near my place..." he proposes to you with a smile, his fangs bared.

The door suddenly swung open before you could even contemplate an answer.

"There's a bright yellow sport car in front of the building getting towed. You better go get it, dog." The incubus growled through grit teeth, glaring into the werewolf's eyes.

"Son of a bitch... I'm so sorry, I gotta go. Think about what I said. I'll be expecting your answer after lunch." Ths werewolf softly purred to you before quickly walking outside the room. The incubus wasted no time and swung the door closed, letting it slam.

"What was that about? Coming to try snd get in my pants again?" You spat before rolling your eyes and starting to organize your papers. Gods, you were such a feisty human sometimes. He loved that about you.

"Technically yes." He chuckled, the rumble in his chest more appealing than you'd care to admit. "I didn't want anyone else around."

"I know you won't do anything unless I give my consent." You said bluntly as you tapped your papers together and tucked things away. You knew incubus couldn't do anything without some kind of genuine verbal permission.

"What? Oh fuck no. Nothing like that... Jesus christ, who do you take me for?" He sounded offended as one of his hands came up over his heart.

"A horny incubus that won't leave me alone." You groaned as you turned towards him, going to walk around him. Suddenly, his arm shoots out, blocking your path as he plants his hand on the wall. His claws were peaking out and leaving marks on the wall.

"You don't understand." He growls, a bit harsher than intended before he inhales deeply, trying to calm down as he runs a hand through his hair between his horns. "Once I have my target set on a mark, I can't change it unless they reject me."

"Then why do you keep coming back? I've rejected you so many times... Don't you have plenty of other girls that would be more than willing to give you a snack?" You pointed out how many women were always hanging all over him. It made you sick. Of course you wanted to fuck the hot incubus in the office, but you know yourself. You don't like to share. You like having a partner that's yours and yours alone.

"No. I've never encountered anyone that makes me feel like this..." He leans in towards your face and softly sniffs the air. "You smell so good... I can't think of feeding on anyone else right now... I think I just need a taste... just one night..." His voice is dripping in a pleading tone, bartering, but practically begging for you.

"I can't do that." You said bluntly as you avoided eye contact with him. The heat pooling in your panties didn't help your faltering moral defenses. You knew better. You had to stay firm. Firm like the bulge forming in his dress pants...

"Please?" His deep desperate voice broke you out of your daze as you softly gasped, trying to pretend to be offended instead of turned on as your face turns red and you glare into his eyes.

"N-no! I'm not interested in having a one night stand with you!" You barked, your chest heaving as you stared up at him. Your heart raced as you took in his appearance unintentionally. He was tall and slender, with sharp features. his typically carefully slicked back hair was a bit disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration. His horns were short and blunt usually, but you could see them growing by the moment. In fact, it seemed like his entire frame was growing.

"Oh." He purred. "I get it now." A wicked grin spread cross his face as you tried your best to maintain an annoyed expression. "You haven't been rejecting me because you don't want to sleep with me."

"What?" You jaw slacked open as you looked up at him in shock. "Why else would I be rejecting you?"

"You've been rejecting me because you want me so bad you know you'll want more." He chuckled, his other arm suddenly swinging around to cage you against the wall. "I can tell by how wet you were right now."

"That could have been from anyone else today." You scoffed, but you knew you couldn't pretend you weren't also starting to get desperate. Yiu also couldn't pretend that in an office full of monsters, most of them could probably smell your arousal whenever you had walked into a room.

"I'm an incubus, baby. A demon of pleasure. I can smell it in your blood how turn on you get from being around me." He chuckled with a grin. Fuck. He was onto you. "And it started shortly after I walked in the room..." Double fuck.

"Fuck you." You hissed through grit teeth, your blood pumping as you thought about how many times he must have known you were turned on by his presence.

"Oh babygirl, don't be so hostile. If you wanted more than just one night with me, we could easily arrange that." He starts to lean in close to your face, but you put a hand on his chest and push him back. You couldn't have him in your space like this for long or to hell with your morals.

"Look, I don't sleep with guys unless I'm dating them. I don't do friends with benefits or random office hookups." You finally admitted with a sigh, avoiding eye contact in embarrassment. Your hand on his chest alone was driving him wild. You had never touched him before. He felt his horns getting bigger as he struggled to keep his mostly human form intact.

"Wait, what? Why not?" He said as he finally processed what you said. It was hard to pay attention when you kept touching him.

"Because I know I get attached easily." You admit shyly, your voice nearly whisper quiet as you pulled your hand away. You had his full attention now. "Think about it. You're an incubus that needs to feed on pleasure to survive. You have a good routine going here with everyone else in the office from what I've heard." You let out a shakey sigh as you felt tears start to well in your eyes. "If I'm added into the mix, I know I'm just going to end up hurt... because it already hurts..."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean it hurts?" His voice has changed from frustration to worry mixed with confusion. He didn't understand what was hurting you.

"Excuse me?" You question, a bit confused by his confusion.

"What hurts you right now?" He asks, a bit more clearly as he stares into your eyes and gently cups your face. His touch makes you stiffen, although all you want to do is melt into his hand. As if he has some kind of truth spell on you, you take a breath and let out a soft sigh.

"Y...you do... you hurt me... I see how you talk to the other females in the office... it hurts... ever since I walked into this office I've found you attractive... I've only been here for a few weeks, and I've honestly already been looking to transfer to a different department so I don't have to be around you all the time." You admit softly, averting your gaze before his hand suddenly grabs your face by squishing your soft cheeks.

"What?! Hell no!" He barked with a growl. The thought of you transferring away from him made him enraged. He couldn't let that happen.

"Excuth me?" You mumbled through your squished lips, his grip firm, so you couldn't move, but not harsh.

"You heard me. Hell no." His grip on your face loosens as both his hands move up to hold the side of your head. The look in his eyes is wild, his pupils huge as he doesn't even seem to blink. "You've ruined me, so you don't get to run away from me like that."

"W-what?" You stutter confused, staring back at him as you tried to process his words. What does he mean you ruined him?

"If all you wanted from the beginning was to have me all to yourself, you should have said something." He mutters as his thumbs slowly rub your cheeks. His gentle touch makes you let out an involuntary sigh. "You've made me want no one but you since you got here anyways... your rejections were like being stabbed in the heart... God, without you around, everyone else smells like hot garbage... you smell like fresh summer rain that I wanna drown in forever..." He whispers to you as he moves his hands down your neck and to your shoulders before dropping down your back slowly.

"You really feel like that?" You whisper softly as a shiver goes down your spine. His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place as he presses his chest against yours. Your arms and papers squish between the two of you as his hot breath bathed your face.

"Yes. I mean every word... if you want to try and date me, I'd be more than happy to only feed from you." He slowly leans down and presses his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply as you can feel his hardening bulge against your lower stomach. "I just don't know how much longer I can wait for you... being this close is torture... I can take you on a proper date tonight, but..." His breathing seems to get heavier as you start to hear the ripping of fabric from behind him. "I need you." His eyes were filled with need at he looked like he was about to start drooling over the most deliciousmeal he's ever had. He was starving and desperate to just feel you. "Please."

"I need you too." You finally whispered, breathless yourself as this was finally too much. You hoped he was telling the truth, but your horny brain didn't even care anymore. You needed him just as badly in that moment.

"Fuck, you have no idea how much I've needed to hear you say that." He lets out a relieved sigh and chuckles before a dark black tentacle comes out from the darkness and grabs your papers, throwing them onto the table. He wastes no time in pinning you to the wall, his wings bursting out from his back and ripping open the back of his suit. "Shit." He grumbles, quickly just tearing off the rest of the fabric on his upper body as he pulls up your skirt, making you wrap your legs around him as he grinds his bulge against your panties to tease you. You're about to let out a moan as he takes your soft lips in a deep kiss. You instead moan against his lips as your hands find his hair, gently tugging as he moans in return.

He's barely even done anything yet, and he feels like he just had a full meal. Your pleasure was so easy to stir and the buzz it gave him was addicting. This was dangerous. He didn't think you'd actually be so tasty. But you were now quickly becoming his new favorite meal. More tentacles manifested out of the darkness, wrapping around your arms and legs slowly as they explored your body and held you in place. The tentacles were warm and wet against your skin, almost feeling like strange tongues. You feel them pin your arms behind your back, your chest now pushed out as he rips the front of your blouse open. You gasp and squirm a bit about to complain about your shirt being ripped before he quickly silences you with a quick kiss.

"I can get you a new shirt, baby. Just relax and enjoy this." He purrs softly, making you shiver before his lips are back on yours again. He slides his tongue into your mouth and seems to be trying to taste as much of you as he possibly can. Two tentacles slide into your bra and wrap around your breasts, fondling them as they flicked your nipples. He quickly unbuckles his pants and pulls out his throbbing cock from his boxers, rubbing his length between your slick folds. He groans against your lips softly before pulling away to rest his forehead against yours.

Your brain is fuzzy as you look up at him, your eyes drunk with lust and he could swear you had hearts in your eyes. Your eyes flicked downwards and widened as he chuckled. He was bigger than you expected, but you weren't going to shy away from a challenge. However, before you could tell him to go ahead and fuck you, you felt a warm, slick tentacle move your panties to the side before prodding your dripping wet hole and slowly sliding into you. It was thick, stretching you slightly as it wriggled inside you against your most sensitive bumps inside you.

"I can tell you're a needy one... a secret kinky side... I like that." He groans as he bucks his hips against yours, rubbing his cock against your bundle of nerves. Your back arched as you couldn't help but let out lewd moans, another tentacle swiftly sliding into your mouth. "You're really enjoying this. I can't believe you resisted this for so long." He chuckles with a wicked grin. You moan around the tentacle in your mouth as you squirm, your eyes fluttering as the tendril in your pussy plays with your sensitive walls. Your face flushes as you felt yourself starting to get close already.

"Fuck baby... if you taste this good just to play with, I need to know how good you taste when you cum." He pants softly as you notice drool from the corners of his mouth dripping down onto your chest. His eyes are wild with lust as they dart over your body laid out just for him. His cock continues to thrust roughly against your clit, picking up the pace along with the two tentacles inside you. You don't know how much more you can take.

"Cum for me baby." He commands, making you shiver as you suddenly come undone. Your pussy contracts around the tentacle as you gag on the lne in your mouth. Your entire body trembles as you're fucked through your orgasm, the tentacles only pulling away slowly for a moment after you're done cumming. You're panting and gasping for air as the black tendril slides put of your mouth, your pussy red and puffy as the other slides out as well.

You're left whining softly as your pussy clenches around nothing and you try to catch your breath. You want to tell him you wanted more. That you wanted his cock. You needed it. Drool drips down your chin as he leans in to lick it away, pulling his dick away as the black tendrils move you to the large table. He begins licking the sweat from your body, leaving you wet and needy.

Once he finally moves to 'clean' between your legs, you're groaning and moaning softly with need. He licks up your thighs, stopping before touching your pussy. Your squirming in the grip of the tentacles still, bucking your hips as you pray for him to touch you. You're left whimpering and shaking with desire as he fixes your messy panties and pulls your skirt back into place.

"You really are needy." He growls as his eyes finally start to settle from their crazed daze. The tentacles slowly release you and he uses the shreads of his shirt snd jacket to ensure you're cleaned up. "But I can't get too carried away... not yet."

"I wish you could have." You whisper with a cheeky smile as he begins to clean your face of any spit or tears left behind. He chuckles lowly as he holds your face with one of his clawed hands. His eyes still held a burning desire for you, and you knew he saw the same in yours.

"You'll find out tonight. You took the bus today, right?" He asks as he manifested two of his shirts, opening one of them up and sliding it on your arms before beginning to button it up. You notice his more demon-like features starting to slowly go away, showing that he's much calmer now as he takes on his human appearance again.

"Yeah?" You raise an eyebrow, wondering why he was asking. It wasn't uncommon for you to just take the bus when you didn't feel like driving in the morning. He quickly finished buttoning the shirt he put on you before putting on a shirt himself now that he won't rip it with his wings.

"Good. You're coming home with me after work." He said with a smirk as he buttoned up his shirt. You whined softly and bit your lip as he now covered himself. He helped you off the table, but held your hips as you stood in front of him now.

"I want you to save that energy for our date tonight."

"Oh really?" You giggle as you run your hand along his chest, undoing the top bottun to let a bit kore of his chest show. "You better finish what you started then." You feel him practically purr as he stares down at you with a mischievous grin.

#monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster imagine #demon x reader #demon oc #demon bf #demon boyfriend

969 notes · View notes

star-centric · 10 months

Note

Could you pretty please do some “how they would try to court you” (not in a ABO way, but in a Devildom dating culture way), headcanons / scenarios with Mammon, Beel, and Diavolo?

PAIRINGS: Mammon, Diavolo & Beel x reader (all separate)

NOTE: Let me say this- I love love LOVE requests like these!!! Any time I can write about stuff like this it makes me kick my feet and giggle. Also sorry this is so late- life is a hectic atm 🫠

CW: gender neutral reader, mentions of possessiveness, minor suggestive themes (mainly in Diavolo’s part)

How They Would Try to Court You (feat. Mammon, Beelzebub and Diavolo) (Headcanons)

MAMMON

Mammon’s a lot like his crow familiars- especially when it comes to courting. Combine that with his sin of greed and you’re in for a time!

He’s greedy, so it only makes sense that he wants all of the time. Whether it’s just laying around in your room or even just walking to class, he’s right by your side. People are starting to get used to see him literally everywhere you go. He might as well be perched on your shoulder like your own personal crow

You start to find little trinkets left for you- courtesy of Mammon. Those pairs of earrings you were eyeing at the boutique? You found them on your pillow when you got back from class. The cute pin you says reminds you of him? It's already in your locker. The items are usually something small, but still meaningful to you

Nests!! When you see a cozy bundle of blankets and pillows in both of your rooms, and how Mammon is very adamant (ie. very nervous of your approval) that you have to lay it, you feel like he have no choice but to get in it. It's so comfortable that when he sees you instantly relax he can't help but let his chest puff out in pride (and he may have let out a coo or two when he saw how peacefully you were sleeping)

Speaking of cooing- he’s humming around you too now. It's cute actually, and it makes him blush whenever you comment on it (he even does it without realizing it sometimes, which makes it even more adorable). You start to catch it when you praise him for something, but he starts doing it even more outside of it. He tries to play dumb about it, but he's really happy (and relieved) that you love how his voice sounds (it's what he was hoping for)

He starts to flash show his demon form to you more. It stemmed from your praise at his photo shoot, and ever since then he's been stretching his wings around you. Graze your fingers across them and Mammon would be putty in your hands

Mammon has always been selfish, especially when it comes to you. It’s obvious what he’s trying to do, but you’re still a bit surprised when he gets serious about it. The nights where he asks you not to leave, where he tightens his grip around you and buries his face into your neck, he means it

He wants to prove to you that he’s the only one you need, that you don’t need any other demon but him

BEELZEBUB

Beel’s courting style is simple, yet effective!

Despite it being a while since Beel felt this much of a pull towards someone like this, he really does try his best

He makes sure you’re well fed and never hungry- he knows how he can get on an empty stomach, plus he has to make sure you’re taken care of! It starts to become a very common sight to see Beel feeding some of his food to you, which leaves the others shocked, but he’s unfazed by it. They’ll even catch you bringing you food to share and not the other way around they’re used to

Beel is also like Mammon in a way- always by your side. Whether he’s just stuffing his face or observing something else, he’s right behind you like a second shadow. You didn’t realize how intimidating it was until you started to wonder why so many people started to steer clear of you- literally

(It wasn’t on purpose but Beel wasn’t complaining)

He also starts to work out around you more. You’ve always been amazed at his muscles, awed at how he lifts hundreds of pounds with ease. He’s never been one too full of pride, but the sensation bubbling inside of his chest made him want to show you more. His regular workouts, his fangol games, practice- he wanted you there for it all

Beel can’t explain it, but putting his strength on display for you feeds into a growing urge that’s hard to suppress. He wants to show you how strong he is, how easily he can protect you if something were to arise. The fanged grin on his face when he sees you cheering for him leaves him motivated to do even more

Sometimes he’ll slip into his demon form because of how excited he gets seeing you (which in turn makes his opponents/teammates nervous)

Soft bites- it happened by mistake the first time. Beel accidentally bit your finger while you were trying to feed him. He didn’t break any skin or hurt you, but when you bit him (playfully) in return something…changed inside of him after that. He wanted to do it more- leave your skin littered with marks done by him. And he wants to feel your own blunt teeth bite into him (even if you don’t leave a mark). It’s become a cute memory and another inside joke between you both

(Even if it makes him want to go feral everytime he sees your bite marks)

Beel also scents you! He has the strongest sense of smell in the house (and probably one of the strongest in the entire Devildom), so being able to leave his scent on you isn’t a problem. Lending you his clothes (which the sight of you with them does something to him too), wrapping you in his own blankets while burying his face into your neck- you don’t know why he’s been so cuddly lately but you’re not complaining (and neither is he)

Beel isn’t much of the possessive type, but he’s not willing to share you with any other demon outside of his family. Even then, his primal urge is somewhat satiated knowing that he’s left his mark(s) on you for others to see- and plans on leaving more to show that you’re his

DIAVOLO

The Future King of the Devildom has been lonely for some time now- so forgive him if he goes a bit…overboard in his methods

Remember how he was when you ate the pudding humans weren't allowed to eat? Imagine that type of behavior but with no restrictions

Expect to be adorned in the finest jewelry/outfits you could get in all of the Devildom. It gets to a point where you’re wearing literal millions- all he does is laugh at your shocked expression and waves off your worries. It’s not like he can’t afford it- plus he wants to see you in it all! (and show you how easy he can provide for you)

He’s a lot more bolder than he usually is during this time too (not that he wasn’t bold to begin with). He’s…just not holding back anymore

He’s more open with his touch, his hands finding his way to you a lot more common now. Whether it's out in public or behind closed doors, Diavolo can't seem to keep his hands to himself. The looks you get from people when you're out together make you a little embarrassed, but he holds his head up high anyway (which you're not surprised- he is the ruler still, not like they can say much anyway)

But Diavolo doesn't mind the looks- he wants them actually. He wants people to see you with him, to know that you're with him and that nothing is going to change that. That you're his and his alone. A part of him is tempted to keep you locked inside for his eyes only, but he knows that it wouldn't be right to do that to you

But he does invite you over to the castle more, which somewhat helps his urges. You’re waited on hand and foot by Diavolo, who doesn’t mind at all- he sent Barbatos away on “important tasks” (ie. give him alone time with you). It’s adorable how earnest he is in taking care of you, even if it’s something minimal as holding the door for you or feeding you himself

He’s in his demon form too, and thrives off of your attention- to see how you admire him makes his chest swell with pride. You’re in awe at his form (which makes sense since it’s a rare sight to see), and he loves it. He craves it. He encourages you to touch his wings and have your fingers graze his horns- just be careful not to tug on them too hard, unless you want to really get him riled up more than he is now

Diavolo is also like Beel in wanting to see his marks and scent left on your skin. He shows restraint, and it’s only ever done in spots he can see (mostly). There may be a dark splotch or two on your neck from when he got carried away (or when he wanted to show others that you already belong to someone)

Diavolo really hasn’t felt like this over anyone in years- Hell, probably in his entire life. He really has become enamored with you during your time in the Devildom that he can’t imagine loving someone else. You truly have made his life brighter with your presence

He understands that you can’t stay here forever, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t become mates regardless, right? Or rather, who’s going to stop him?

2K notes · View notes

squarebracket-trickster · 1 year

Text

You can analyze your favourite writers' techniques. You all know that right?

When you read a book or fic or whatever and are blown away by how amazing the writing is you can just go, "huh, how is the writer doing this? what things are they doing to get this effect?"

And if you can't figure it out you are allowed to google it. Check out YouTube videos, blog posts, and the wealth of posts on Tumblr even. If the writer is famous enough there might even be full-length academic papers on Google Scholar or JSTOR, or even 100+ page published books dissecting their style (Tolkien, for example, if you like his style). If you still can't find the information, ask someone. Ask more experienced writers or writers who write in a similar style. Ask writing advice blogs/channels. Ask the writer/author themselves.

And if you still can't figure it out, you can keep trying things and reading similar stuff, observing until it clicks.

I just say this because, well, reading someone else's writing and feeling like yours is horrible in comparison is pretty much a universal writer experience. I see a lot a posts on Tumblr offering encouragement like, "it is okay if you writing isn't like theirs, you just have different strengths," and "actually your writing is better than you think it is, you've just been staring at it too long." And these are valid.

But also, just because you can't write like that now doesn't mean you can't learn. You don't have to resign yourself to a particular style just because it comes easier to you. It is completely okay to be happy with the style you have, but it is also okay to not be happy with it and wish you could write like your favourite writers instead.

Just... when you get that, "oh my gosh, I will never be as good as them," feeling, maybe try figuring out what it is they are doing that you like so much. Maybe being patient with yourself doesn't mean accepting that this is your best work. Maybe it means accepting that this isn't and that it will take time, knowledge, and practice to get there. But you will, you just have to keep trying.

#writing #writing advice #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writer things #writers #writing community #writing tips #on writing #writers on tumblr #writerscorner #writerslife #gosh I hate tagging things #i swore i was going to stay away from writing advice tumblr this time around #unfortunately I have a problem

3K notes · View notes

yonch · 8 months

Text

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

#isat #in stars and time #siffrin #siffrin isat #isafrin #isat game #postgame isat #loop #isabeau #mirabelle #odile #bonnie #boniface #spoilers are only under the read more #my drawings #etoile tag

1K notes · View notes

mysteria157 · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Doggystyle, Fingering, Oral (m! receiving)…

WC: ~10k (grab your snacks)

Summary:

Nanami runs into a problem that every man dreads.

Now, you find yourself navigating the treacherous waters of his bruised ego and growing hysteria, armed with nothing but your unwavering love and a seemingly endless supply of patience, as you try to help him overcome this unexpected hurdle.

Notes: Hello! Trying to get back into the swing of writing again after so many weeks on a break and naturally Nanami is who I gravitate towards. I thought this one shot would be a funny idea, and as someone once told me, I wrote this with “my c*it on the keyboard.”

Please do not ask me for more related to this story. This is just a one-shot of a random idea, please enjoy it for what it is lol. Thank you all for understanding!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune | Header: made by myself

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter |

“Fuck, Kento,” you breathe, fingers digging into the satin of the pillow case beneath your head.

The soft, warm glow of the bedside lamp bathes your intertwined bodies in a honeyed light, casting shadows that dance across your rich brown skin. Nanami’s lips, hot and insistent, trail a path of fire down your neck, pausing to lavish attention on the sensitive hollow of your throat. He drags his teeth along your clavicle, brushes his lips between the skin of your breasts. A breathy moan escapes you as his tongue traces lazy, deliberate circles around an already-sensitive nipple, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

His hands, strong and sure, yet infinitely gentle, knead the soft flesh behind your knees, coaxing your legs to open wider, allowing him to sink deeper into the welcoming heat of your body. The blunt head of his cock grazes that sweet spot inside you with each measured thrust, and you can’t help but arch your back, silently begging for more.

Your hair, messy from his fingers, frames your face in a splatter of curls, some clinging to the sheen of sweat on your cheeks. The sight of you like this—open, wanting, completely his—nearly steals the breath from his lungs and makes him double down his efforts.

It’s been weeks since you’ve had this. Weeks of Kento stumbling home late from working overtime, collapsing into bed still fully clothed. Weeks of missed connections, family obligations, and movie nights cut short with you both passing out on the couch. But tonight, finally, you have each other, free from the demands of the world outside.

As Nanami moves within you, his honey-wheat hair, usually so perfectly styled, falls in soft, tousled waves across his forehead, clinging to the perspiration that glistens on his brow. The strong line of his jaw is taut with concentration, a muscle jumping beneath the skin in a way that makes your fingers itch to trace its contours. His eyes, normally a cool, observant umber, now burn with a fierce intensity, a volatile mix of desire and something else, something harder to define.

But even as you lose yourself in the rhythm of your lovemaking, in the exquisite slide of skin against skin, you can’t help but notice the weariness etched into the lines of Nanami’s face, the slight tremor in his hands as they map the contours of your body. He’s been working himself to the bone, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, and it shows in the tension of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. You had tried to get him to sleep when he sagged through the front door, but he was insistent, clawing at your too-big t-shirt, silent and too stubborn to listen to his body as he licked into your hot mouth.

He’s so tired. Mind still running through quarterly reports and half-completed project plans. But he won’t let that deter him. He’s determined to focus—to savor this moment, to lose himself in the intoxicating scent of your skin, to surrender to the tremors that course through him as your fingers ghost up his back. You marvel at the play of muscles beneath his skin, at the flex and release of his broad shoulders with each movement—a reminder of the strength he usually keeps so carefully controlled.

But as he leans in to capture your lips, that traitorous whisper of doubt in his mind grows in volume. That exhaustion that melted away from your touch has retreated to within him, to course through the blood in his veins and manifest again in its own, evil way at the apex of his thighs. Nanami’s movements falter, his rhythm turning erratic, unsure. You feel a change in him, a hesitation that wasn’t there before, and your heart clenches with concern. His brow furrows, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tries to hold onto the moment, to keep the passion burning between you. The confidence that usually radiates from him when you are both between the sheets seems to waver, leaving in its wake a man grappling with an unfamiliar sense of inadequacy.

He doesn’t want to believe it. He refuses to acknowledge the treacherous thought creeping into his mind. His cock, moments ago hard as a rock and pulsing within you, is betraying him. He digs one hand into the pillow beneath your head, fingers tangling in your curls, savoring the sharp gasp you shake out, desperately willing himself to focus on your heat, on your breath ghosting across his face—anything but the waning firmness of his erection.

With a low grunt, he thrusts deeper so there’s no room for his cock to leave you. The movement is sharper than usual, a force that has no trace of his care behind it and it immediately makes you blink through the fog of pleasure in your mind. You notice the change, concern filling you as you take in the tumultuous emotions on his face. His blonde hair falls in thick tufts over his forehead, brushing against the deepening crease between his eyebrows.

“Ken?” Your voice is soft, a gentle caress. You bring a hand to his cheek, and he leans into your touch as if your soft skin might anchor and keep him focused. “Is everything alright?”

Everything is far from alright.

It’s a nightmare scenario that Nanami can’t bring himself to voice. But he knows you feel it. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pants against your vanilla skin, his fingers digging almost painfully into the flesh of your hips. He drives his hips deeper, angling upwards, trying desperately to lose himself in your pliant body.

But with his next thrust, the cruel truth becomes undeniable. What was once hard steel is now unbearably soft, slipping out of you as his hips collide with yours. Your gasp mirrors his shock as he jerks his head up to meet your gaze. The mortification in his eyes is palpable, a stark contrast to the passion that burned there mere moments ago.

“Ken, it’s okay—” you begin, but he’s already retreating, both physically and emotionally, his walls slamming back into place, shutting you out. You can practically see him retreating into himself, his shoulders hunching, his jaw clenching with a stubbornness of wounded pride.

“Hey, no, we aren’t doing this,” you insist, voice firm and laced with quiet determination.

You reach for him, your fingers wrapping around a thick wrist, anchoring him to you. You’ve spent years chipping away at his defenses, learning every facet of his being, and you refuse to let him shut you out now over something like this. This isn’t just embarrassment—it’s a fundamental shaking of his self-image, a crack in the foundation of who Nanami believes himself to be. An affliction that every man prays to the gods never finds them.

Limp dick.

You gently pull Nanami back to rest between your thighs, his weight a comforting shield against the cool air of your shared bedroom. Your fingers weave through his hair, feeling the tension thrumming through his body as he settles against you.

“Kento,” you murmur, your voice a low, soothing melody in the quiet room. “Look at me.”

He stills for a heartbeat, two, before raising his head, his eyes meeting yours. In their depths, you see a swirling maelstrom of emotions—frustration, embarrassment, shame. He’s tousled hair and flushed cheeks, an overwhelming exhaustion and stress etched beneath his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, cradling his face in your hands. Your thumbs trace the high arch of his cheekbones, feeling the heat of his skin. “This happens. It doesn’t change a thing—not how I feel, not how much I love you, none of it.”

Nanami’s jaw clenches under your palms, the muscle pulsing, a physical manifestation of the turmoil brewing within him. His gaze falls, unable to hold yours, as if the weight of his perceived failure is too much to bear. “I should be able to—”

“To what?” you interject, your voice gentle but firm. “To be some infallible sex god?” A soft laugh escapes you, your lips curving into a tender smile. “To never have limp dick?”

Those warm eyes glare at you, not at all amused by your light-hearted but poignantly accurate joke. “Now is not the time for a joke,” he grits out, his voice tight, strained.

“Now is exactly the time for a joke,” you counter, your thumb tracing the slight cracks of his bottom lip. You can sense his next moves, your body attuned to his very soul, feeling his inclination to withdraw, to roll over and brood, to let this momentary setback fester into something more. You tighten your thighs around his waist, refusing to let him drift away. “How long have we been together, Kento?”

“Three years.” His answer is immediate, automatic, a testament to the depth of your bond.

“And in that time, has this ever happened before?”

Your eyes lock—a silent battle of wills, logic against stubborn pride. He understands your point, recognizes the truth in your words, but his stubbornness matches your own. “No,” he admits, the word a reluctant concession.

“You’re human, Kento. Wonderfully, beautifully human, and the sexiest man I’ve ever known. Performance issues or not.”

He scoffs, but you feel his shoulders slacken, his body melting into yours as he exhales, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles. His arms tighten around you, calloused hands splaying across the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, as if your touch alone could chase away the demons of self-doubt. Those beautiful golden strands tickle your cheeks as he nuzzles closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“Is that so?” he finally murmurs, and you can hear the small smile in his voice, a welcome change from the earlier tension. For as reserved as he is, Nanami preens under any sort of compliments you give him, a chink in his armor of cool composure.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, your hands sliding down to appreciate the firm planes of his back. “It’s a shame, really. You attract too much attention. I’ve been too generous with how long I let you out of the house.”

You feel more than hear his soft chuckle, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into yours. Nanami pulls back slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. The vulnerability from before hasn’t completely faded, but it’s tempered by a familiar spark of determination kindling in their depths. You don’t know if the subject has completely dropped. But for now, he doesn’t seem to dwell on it, content to focus on you instead.

“Well,” he begins, his voice dropping to that deep, velvety tone that never fails to send shivers cascading down your spine, “I should ensure your satisfaction. Maybe then you’ll extend my hours outside.”

Before you can respond, he’s moving. He sits up on his knees, hot hands wrapping around your waist before yanking your hips closer to him, a delicious show of strength that has your breath catching in your throat. Your giggle of surprise quickly morphs into a gasp as his lips find that sensitive spot just below your ear, tongue sliding against the skin before it trails down the rest of your body, leaving a path of desire that makes you shudder against him.

You expected a period of adjustment, a gradual return to the easy intimacy you and Nanami had always shared. But as time passed, you began to notice a shift, subtle at first, but growing more pronounced with each passing day.

That first sign of something odd presents itself on day three since that night, a quiet Saturday morning that dawns with a gentle golden light filtering through your bedroom curtains. You wake up to find Nanami’s side of the bed empty, the sheets cool to the touch. Puzzled, you pad into the living room, your bare feet silent on the cool hardwood floor, your eyes roaming the space for any sign of him.

Nanami sits at the dining table, surrounded by a veritable fortress of books, their spines forming a colorful barricade around his hunched form. His laptop glows in the morning light, casting his features in a pale blue hue, multiple tabs visible on the screen. He’s hunched over and shirtless, his bare back a canvas of dark moles, constellations you’ve traced countless times with reverent fingers, your lips mapping a path between each celestial point.

As you circle the table, drawing closer to his absorbed form, you’re struck by the intensity of his concentration, the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. His fingers fly over the keyboard with a single-minded purpose, a man on a mission, lost in a world of his own making.

“What are you doing up so early?” you ask, running a hand through the short, silky hair at his nape.

He glances up, and the determined glint in his eye catches you off guard. “Research,” he replies simply, as if that single word explains everything.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you lean in to examine the book titles scattered across the table, your brow rising with each passing second:

Male Sexual Health

Nutrition and Libido

Stress Management for Peak Performance

What the—?

A mix of emotions bubbles up inside you—amusement at his determination, concern for his state of mind, a touch of exasperation at his stubbornness. Part of you wants to tease him mercilessly, to watch that adorable flush creep up his neck, to see him squirm under your playful attention. But you bite your tongue, sensing the fragility of the moment, the rawness of his exposed insecurities.

“Ken,” you begin, your voice a delicate balance of understanding and concern, “is this about what happened the other night? I thought we talked about this, baby.”

“We did,” he nods, not looking up from his screen. “And I appreciate your understanding. But I can’t let it happen again. I’m going to fix this.”

There’s so much you want to say, so many reassurances you want to offer. You want to tell him how normal this is, how surprised you are that it hasn’t happened more often given his grueling work schedule. But you bite your tongue, sensing that this is something Nanami needs to process on his own.

“Don’t you think this might be…a bit much?” you try one last time, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his bare shoulder, careful not to make him feel defensive and push him further into his own head.

“Nothing is too much when it comes to satisfying you.”

And with those words, spoken with such conviction, such raw honesty, your heart swells, a tidal wave of love and affection crashing over you. He won’t be swayed, and there’s no point in trying to argue with him when he’s set on something. You can’t help but sigh fondly, running your fingers through his hair again, your nails gently scratching his scalp in the way you know he loves. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, a low groan of appreciation rumbling from his chest as he guides your fingers to just the right spot.

As Nanami launches into an explanation of the benefits of Ashwagandha root, his fingers running along a line of text in one of the magazines, you can’t help but shake your head affectionately. You love this man, even (or perhaps especially) when he’s being ridiculously over-the-top, his determination to be the best partner he can be, even if it means diving headfirst into a world of herbal remedies and performance-enhancing techniques.

The days slip by, each one blurring into the next, a haze of normalcy tinged with an undercurrent of unease. It’s not until the morning of day ten that the true extent of Nanami’s newfound obsession becomes impossible to ignore.

The soft schick of his razor fills the bathroom, a rhythmic counterpoint to the rush of running water. He stands before the mirror, shirtless, a towel draped over his broad shoulders to catch stray flecks of shaving cream. You watch, transfixed, as he meticulously glides the razor along the sharp line of his jaw, each stroke precise, measured.

You stand beside him, your own morning ritual underway, massaging a rich, creamy lotion into your melanin-kissed skin. Your favorite scent of vanilla fills the air, mingling with the crisp, clean aroma of Nanami’s shaving cream. It’s a familiar dance, this shared moment of grooming, of preparation for the day ahead.

But as you reach for your leave-in, your eyes catch on something new, something that sends a jolt of surprise through your system. There, amidst the clutter of skincare products and toiletries, sits a new addition to the growing collection of bottles on the counter. The mustard-yellow label boldly proclaims: “Maca Root: For Vitality and Stamina”.

“Ken?” you murmur, plucking the bottle from the counter, your eyebrows dipping in confusion. “What’s this?”

Nanami’s eyes flick to yours in the mirror, his hand pausing mid-stroke, the razor hovering just above his skin. “Just a supplement,” he evades, his voice carefully neutral, a forced casualness he uses to avoid arguments he won’t win that always sets your teeth on edge. “For…overall health.”

You turn the bottle in your hands, eyebrow arching higher in disbelief with each word you read as you take in the bold, almost aggressive labeling. Your gaze darts to the other bottles littering the counter, a growing sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach as you take them in for the first time.

“Uh-huh. And the Zinc? The Ginseng? The…” you squint at another label, your voice dripping with skepticism, “L-arginine? All for ‘overall health’ too?”

He clears his throat, his gaze darting away from yours, focusing intently on his reflection as he studiously avoids your probing stare. “That’s right.”

“Baby—” you begin, but he cuts you off, setting down his razor with a definitive clink and shutting the water off, turning to face you fully.

The sight of him, bare-chested and gleaming under the harsh fluorescent light, sends a bolt of desire through you, a hunger that’s been left unsatiated for far too long. The thick cords of muscle that stretch across his chest and arms, the taut planes of his abdomen, the trail of dark blonde hair that disappears beneath the low-slung waistband of his sweatpants—it’s exquisite torture, a feast for your senses after days of famine.

But there’s a tension in the set of his shoulders, a skittishness in his gaze that sets off warning bells in your head.

“It’s the research I’ve been doing,” he admits, almost apologetic as he pulls the towel from his shoulders, wiping away the last traces of shaving cream from his jaw. “From what I’ve read, these have proven benefits for…various aspects of wellbeing.”

He seems almost afraid, as if he’s bracing himself for your reaction, steeling himself against the inevitability of your displeasure. Fortunately for him, the words are like a match to kindling, a spark that ignites a flame of mischief in your belly. You step closer, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, the supplement bottle forgotten on the counter behind you.

“Various aspects, huh?” you tease, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. This moment—when he smells of fresh soap, shaving cream, and mint toothpaste before cologne masks his natural scent—is one of many favorites. It’s one of the most arousing forms of Nanami Kento before he slides on his work clothes and gives the world a straight face and measured words. “Care to demonstrate some of these benefits?”

Your fingertips trace the muscles of his chest, slide along his skin with more purpose, your nails dragging lightly over his nipples, a teasing hint of pain that you know drives him wild. He inhales sharply, his muscles tensing beneath your hands, his jaw clenched tight, a reaction that’s as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

For a moment, you think you have him, that he’ll give in to the desire that darkens his eyes, that he’ll roughly bunch your skirt up around your waist, hike your legs up and around him and make the bathroom mirror knock against your back until you’re gasping out his name as you tighten around his cock.

But then he’s stepping back, his hands coming up to gently catch your wrists, pulling your hands away from his skin.

“We’ll be late for work,” voice strained, conveying his own battling desire. He brings your hands to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the delicate skin of your wrists, your forehead, your mouth.“Let me make you breakfast instead.”

And then he’s gone, slipping past you and out of the bathroom, leaving you standing alone, frustration and disappointment warring in your chest. Your gaze falls on the supplement bottles, a physical manifestation of his growing hysteria, and for a moment, you’re seized by the urge to sweep them all into the trash, to rid your home of these unwelcome interlopers.

But you resist, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you silently repeat the mantra that’s become your lifeline in recent days: I love him. I love him. I love him.

But as you square your shoulders and stalk out of the bathroom to start your day, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s got to give, that this tenuous balance can’t hold forever.

Day seventeen. It feels like an eternity, a cruel and unusual punishment for a crime you didn’t commit. You’re a prisoner in your own home, trapped in a world where the man you love is just out of reach, tantalizingly close but impossibly distant.

Seventeen days too long when you live with a man as loving, kind, and attentive as Nanami Kento. Seventeen excruciating days since the concept of getting dicked down was a given, a pleasure you could indulge in whenever the mood struck. Now, you’re reduced to grasping at sloppy seconds, thirds, fourths—anything for a crumb of cock, a fleeting taste of the intimacy you crave.

You’ve become a connoisseur of stolen moments, of fleeting glances and brushing touches that once held the promise of so much more. A shared look in the bathroom mirror that used to lead to soapy sex in the shower. The brush of his hand against the small of your back as you pass in the hallway, a touch that used to lead to him pulling you flush against his body, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss. Now, you’re like an addict, desperately chasing the ghost of a high, sucking at nicotine-stained fingers for the essence of a hit.

In a last-ditch effort to reignite the spark to show him just how much he’s overreacting, you’ve taken to wearing his shirts around the house. You leave the top buttons undone, a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage on display, the hem riding high on your thighs to reveal the faint marks that he likes to lick against. But each night when you reach for him, Nanami simply presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips trailing a path down your body in a reverent exploration, worshiping you with his mouth and fingers until you’re trembling and spent.

But never with his cock. Never with the part of him you crave most, the part that once made you feel so deliciously full, so utterly claimed.

You feel dramatic when you think about it because it always brings tears to your eyes, hot and stinging with frustration and despair. Like you’re a petulant toddler wanting a cookie that’s been sitting on the counter all morning.

You’ve never been one to let a man dictate your life, to let his whims and insecurities hold sway over your own desires. But Nanami has always been a man to put you above and beyond anything before himself. If the women of the world knew what they were missing, if they could experience even a fraction of the pleasure Nanami Kento can provide, they’d be falling to their knees in supplication, just like you.

How far you’ve fallen.

And how little you care.

Tonight, you vow, will be different. You slip into the silk nightgown he loves, the one that clings to your every curve like a second skin, the baby blue fabric whispering against your heated flesh as you step out of the bathroom. Your heart races with anticipation, your body thrumming with need as you picture his reaction, the way his eyes will darken with desire, the way he’ll pull you into his arms and finally, finally give you what you both so desperately need.

But the bedroom is empty, the sheets still neatly made, mocking you with their pristine perfection. You frown, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach as you pad down the hallway, your bare feet whispering against the cool hardwood. As you approach the kitchen, a pungent, almost medicinal smell hits your senses, growing stronger with each step, mingling with the whir of a blender.

You round the corner and freeze, taking in the scene before you. Nanami stands at the kitchen counter, surrounded by an alchemist’s array of strange-looking roots and powders. The blender in front of him churns away, filled with a murky-greenish-brown liquid that looks more like something out of a horror movie than anything fit for human consumption.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice thin and strained, confusion and exasperation warring for dominance in your tone.

He looks up, startled, nearly knocking over a jar of what looks like dried herbs. “It’s…a health shake.”

You want to argue, to shake his shoulders and scream that this has gone too far, that he’s lost sight of what really matters in his quest for some unattainable ideal. But the determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the way he grimaces as he chokes down a sip of the vile concoction—it all speaks to a desperation that breaks your heart even as it fuels your frustration.

As he takes another sip, nose twisted to the side to avoid the foul smell, his eyes catch your frame. They roam over you, taking in the nightgown, giving you the exact reaction you pictured before coming out here.

For a moment, you see that flicker of desire in his eyes that you’ve been craving.

But then it’s gone, replaced by something that looks suspiciously like guilt.

“I’ll come to bed soon,” he promises, grimacing through another sip of his vile brew. “Get some rest. I know today was rough at work.”

His words are like a knife to your gut, a reminder of the distance that’s grown between you, the way his obsession has consumed him so completely that he can’t even see the pain it’s causing you both.

All of this, because of one night.

You press your toes into the hardwood, your fingers twisting in the hem of your nightgown as you fight back the tears that burn the corners of your eyes.

“You…you don’t want to come to bed with me?” you whisper, hating the way your voice breaks, the way the hope that once buoyed your words has been replaced by a hollow, aching despair and annoyance.

“I want to finish this and catch up on a few things for work before I come to bed.” His gaze slides away from yours, unable to meet the hurt and frustration in your eyes. Unable to see just how in his head he has become with all of this. “It’ll be a little while. Sleep for me? Please?”

The rejection, however gentle, leaves you feeling exposed and bereft, a physical blow to your gut. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak anymore, and turn to head back to the bedroom, your vision blurring.

There’s so much more to this than just you wanting to have sex. You want to be supportive, to give him time and space to work through whatever this is. But you hate just how disillusioned he has become. His gaze and his touch are tainted now—held back by shame and fear of disappointing you. And you can’t help but feel like this is getting more out of control instead of getting better.

You love him, more than anything. But right now, listening to the distant sounds of him choking down that awful-smelling shake, you’ve never felt further apart.

It all comes to a head on day twenty-five. The day dawns like any other, the sun’s warm rays filtering through the windows of your shared apartment, casting a soft glow on the well-worn furniture and the mementos of your life together. It’s your day off, a rare respite from the chaos of the work week, and you find yourself moving through the space with a sense of purpose, straightening and cleaning, trying to bring order to the disarray that seems to mirror the state of certain parts of your relationship.

As you work, your mind wanders, replaying the events of the past month like a melancholy film reel. The distance, the tension, the way Nanami has been pulling away from you, retreating into himself in a desperate attempt to fix what he perceives as a fundamental flaw in his being. Insisting that he won’t let this happen again even though he won’t actually fuck you.

It’s a weight that’s been bearing down on you both, a shadow that’s slowly suffocating the light and love that once filled every corner of your lives.

Your feet carry you to the bedroom, to the closet you share. As you reach for Nanami’s side, intent on straightening his crisp dress shirts, your hand brushes against something unfamiliar, tucked away in the shadows. Curiosity piqued, you pull it out, revealing a plain, unmarked brown box.

For a moment, your heart stutters in your chest, a cold fear gripping your insides as you lift the lid, praying that it’s nothing that would point your partner in the direction of infidelity. But no, you shake your head, banishing the thought before it can fully form. Nanami would never betray you, never seek solace in the arms of another because there’s only has and ever been you.

It makes complete sense in your head, but lately—

You yank open the lid and gape.

Inside, nestled among crumpled tissue paper, are items you never expected to find in Nanami’s possession. Your fingers tremble slightly as you examine them—a cylindrical pump, clear save for the rubber base, and an orange prescription bottle, its label stark against the translucent plastic.

You stare at the objects, your mind whirling with a chaotic storm of emotions. Shock, disbelief, a rising tide of frustration and despair. This isn’t just Nanami being health-conscious anymore, not just a passing phase or a well-intentioned attempt at self-improvement. This is something deeper, something more desperate, a manifestation of the fear and inadequacy that’s been eating away at him since that fateful night.

Carefully, you replace the items, your movements mechanical, your thoughts a jumbled mess. A part of you wants to laugh, to find the absurdity in the situation, to release the tension that’s been building in your chest like a pressure cooker. But you can’t bring yourself to even stifle a giggle, the weight of your worry too heavy.

You sink down onto the bed, the cool sheets soothing the heat of your legs, and draw in a deep, shuddering breath. The weeks of distance, avoidance, the way Nanami has been retreating further and further into himself, straying more and more from reason. There’s so much more to your relationship than just sex, but it’s a big part, a well-practiced part that you both can be your rawest selves during.

But all of this is a spiral that’s slowly dragging you both down, a vortex of unspoken fears and mounting frustrations on both ends.

And in that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your shared life in your apartment, the photos and trinkets that chronicle your love story, you know that something has to give. And it looks like you’ll have to take matters into your own hands. This ends today.

Tonight, when Nanami gets home, you’ll address this head-on. No more dancing around the issue, no more swallowing your grievances in the name of patience and nonexistent understanding. It’s time to remind him of who he is, of the man you fell in love with, the man who’s always been more than enough for you.

The sound of the front door opening pulls you from your thoughts, the soft shuffle of Nanami’s footsteps echoing down the hallway. “Love, I’m home,” he calls out, his voice weary but warm, a balm to your frayed nerves.

He appears in the doorway, his tie loosened, speckled black on yellow draped over his shoulders, the top buttons of his blue shirt undone. His glasses are gone, discarded in his haste to shed the trappings of the office, to leave the stresses of the day behind. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes softening as they land on you, a reverent smile playing at the corners of his lips. “So beautiful.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words, at the love and adoration that shines in his gaze, even though you’re in a ratty t-shirt and shorts, your curls thrown into a careless and messy bun.

“You always speak as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me,” you tease, tilting your head back to accept his kiss, a chaste press of his lips that nonetheless ignites a spark of longing in your core.

“Because it’s true,” he replies simply, his fingers brushing a stray curl behind your ear. “I’m going to shower.” He sounds despondent, unbelievably ragged with the weight of the day clinging to him like a second skin.

“Rough day?”

“A very rough day, my love,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, disrupting the sharp part that he makes every morning. He reaches a hand out to you, an invitation, a plea for your company. “Join me?”

The bathroom is a sanctuary of steam and heat, the air thick with the mingled scents of your body washes—cucumber melon and sandalwood. You perch on the counter, a fluffy towel wrapped around your body, watching as Nanami goes through his post-shower routine, his movements methodical, almost meditative.

Water droplets cling to his skin, tracing tantalizing paths down the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, your fingers itching to follow those rivulets, to map the contours of his body with your lips and tongue.

“Let me,” you murmur, your voice husky with repressed longing. Your legs spread, the open lapels of your towel exposing a creamy brown thigh that Nanami’s eyes flicker to before he meets your gaze. You reach for him, pulling closer until he’s standing between your parted thighs, the heat of his waist seeping through the thin barrier of your towel.

With gentle fingers, you work through the rest of his skincare routine—toner, serum, smoothing eye cream over the delicate skin beneath his lashes. The domesticity of the moment, the intimacy of caring for him like this in whatever way you can, it’s a way to show him that you’re here—that you’re not going anywhere, no matter how lost he may feel.

Your fingertips glide over his skin, applying the last of the face cream with gentle circular motions. As you finish, your hands move to his damp hair, brushing the strands away from his forehead. The strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the subtle crinkles at the corners of his eyes that crease faintly when he smiles.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, a soft smile playing on your lips. Nanami’s hands come to rest on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles on your towel-covered skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, thickly. His eyes, those warm pools of mahogany, are soft with gratitude and affection.

“Always,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with love for this man.

Nanami leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. It’s meant to be a simple gesture of gratitude, but something shifts in the air around you. Whether it’s the intimacy of you both so close or the heat on your skin—the kiss deepens, slow and exploratory, as if you’re rediscovering each other after a long absence.

Your fingers thread through his damp hair, tangling in the strands as his hands tighten on your waist. Your tongue slides along his bottom lip, tasting the coffee he must have had on the way home, the hint of want that he wants to crumble into. He returns with equal fervor, pressing closer to you, sliding his tongue against yours, shivering from the soft moan that shakes from your wet lips when you both finally break apart. A gossamer thread of saliva connects you before he pecks your lips one last time. Nanami’s chest rises and falls deeply, coiled masculinity oozing from his pores, tangling with the downy hairs on his chest.

“Kento,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, “we…we need to talk about what’s been going on.”

Your hands train down his chest as you speak, mapping the familiar terrain of his body. Beneath your fingertips, his heart thunders like a trapped bird, betraying the melting calm facade he’s trying to maintain. The defined muscles of his abdomen twitch under your touch, a visceral reaction he can’t control.

“The magazines, the supplements, the smoothies,” you continue, gentle but firm. “This has gone too far. One off night, Kento. That’s all it was. Yet here you are, acting like you’re broken, like every moment we’ve shared before was somehow lacking.”

Nanami tenses, his body coiling like a spring beneath your hands. But you’re not letting him retreat—not like that night—and certainly not right now. Your legs wrap around his waist, the gap of your towel widening as you yank him closer, anchoring him to you, skin to skin.

“You think that I would look at you differently?” you murmur, catching his distressed eyes every time they try to evade your gaze, willing him to understand. “Think I would think of you as a failure? You like logic, Kento and I’m telling you the facts. You were tired, case closed.”

“But I—” he starts, his voice rough with emotion, eyes narrowing in frustration as he tries to defend himself. You silence him with a thumb to the plump skin of his bottom lip, tracing the divots of soft, pink flesh.

“You’re the healthiest man I know, Ken.” Your other hand drifts lower, brushing through the trail of dark golden hair that disappears beneath his towel. “You take such good care of us. And you never, ever fail to satisfy me.”

His breath catches as your fingers ghost over his hipbones, alternating between soft cotton and the sharp cut of his skin. “One night doesn’t change that,” you whisper, the hand on his face sliding to card through his hair, you lean in to press your lips to the strong line of his jaw. His fingers dig into your waist from your touch, Adams apple bobbing against your gliding lips as he swallows the burning desire that’s slowly searing him from the inside out. “It doesn’t make you any less amazing, any less desirable.”

You pull back, meeting his eyes. In their warm depths, you see a swirling mix of vulnerability that makes your heartache.

“I just…I don’t want to disappoint you again. While I know that you don’t care, being unable to provide for you fully is something that I never wanted to experience.” The confession is thick in the air, sloshing with what remains of the steam from the shower, coating your skin.

“Oh, Kento,” you sigh, pressing your forehead to his. The scent of his skin—clean soap and something uniquely him—envelops you, offers that blanket of protection that you couldn’t imagine going away. “The only thing disappointing me is how you’ve been pulling away. I’m tired of you feeling inadequate when you’re anything but.”

You pause, weighing the options in your head before you take a bounding leap, throwing care to the wind. Slowly, deliberately, you slide off the counter, your body brushing against his as you descend. The cool tile of the bathroom floor contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from your skin.

Kneeling before him, you look up, your gaze never leaving his. Hands slide up thick thighs, the hair on his legs brushing against your fingertips as you travel further toward the rigid heat of where you need him most. The hitch in his breath is faint, almost nonexistent when your fingers toy with the towel’s edge around his waist. You only wait a moment, three seconds too many as your hand undoes the tight knot and the towel pools at his feet and your knees on the floor.

He’s just as he always is—thick and heavy from your proximity alone, hard and filled with the blood that pumps wildly in his veins. When you wrap your hand around him, the heft of his cock makes your cunt squeeze. You know exactly what it feels like to have the most intimate part of him carving out your insides, and god do you need it right now.

You give only one stroke and the effect is instant; Nanami hisses, fingers flexing at his sides, extending and then curling in a fist as a means to keep his hands to himself, the head of his mushroom tip red and prickles with a thick gathering of precum. Just the sight makes your mouth water.

“I found those things in your closet, you know,” you purr softly, stroking him at an excruciating pace. “You actually think you need something like that, baby?”

A flush creeps up Nanami’s neck, blooming across his cheeks in rushing embarrassment even though his pupils are dilated from the sight of you on your knees. He opens his mouth to speak, fumbling for words that choke around another hitch with your next stroke.

“You don’t feel like you would need something like that.” And you don’t wait a second longer, opening your mouth, dragging the flat of your tongue up the backside of his cock. Each taste bud slides against rigid bumps of veins, gathering with more spit as he groans from your attention. You offer a gentle kiss to his tip, licking the salty taste of his precum from your lips. “You sure don’t taste like you would need something like that.”

The rise and fall of his chest is quickly leaving the pace of steady, his eyes locked on you and jaw flexing with growing desperation. You squeeze his cock on an upward stroke, your own body beginning to heat up just from watching him fall apart.

“Look at you now,” you tease, widening the gap between your knees, the heat between your legs radiating against your ankles. “You don’t look like you need help. Responding so beautifully to me. Not a hint of hesitation.”

The velvety hardness of him in your palm twitches from your words, hard steel that’s blazing hot, and just the sight of him above you is more than enough for a whine to build in your belly, an innate urge to have any part of him inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes flutter, long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones as you lean in. When you finally take him into your mouth, your name falls from his lips like a prayer, brown eyes rolling halfway to the back of his head, eyebrows furrowing in equal confusion and pleasure.

You’re too eager to give him time to adjust—tongue swirling around the crown of his head and softening underneath him before building a nice, slobbery rhythm. In and out, in and out. Every stroke of your mouth around his cock makes your mouth water even more and your body relax, the dig of the tile on your knees forgotten.

“Fuck,” he pants, the rare curse slipping from his lips as one hand comes to rest gently on the back of your head. You hum in appreciation—in encouragement—building his confidence to squeeze the curly strands. The vibration of your hum of attention causes Nanami’s hips to buck involuntarily and you let your throat relax without thinking, let him hit the back before you swallow around him. “I-” he bites his lip, groaning from deep in his chest.

The heat of the bathroom is suffocating, your neck covered in curls prickling with sweat, sliding down your clavicle and onto the towel around your breasts that’s quickly loosening. Or maybe it’s your own body burning from the inside out, your blood pounding and surging to your core, swelling with arousal that leaks from you without even touching yourself.

And you’re dripping. The hand not at the base of him—stroking what you can’t swallow—reaches between your thighs, rubbing a clit that’s sopping wet with slick that drips between your fingers and onto the tile floor.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar ache to build in your jaw, a growing reminder of the thick cock between your mouth. But his throaty moans keep you going, keep your cunt pulsing and squeezing around the two fingers that quickly slide inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes, dark with desire, take you in—your messy hand twisting at the base of his cock, the hint of saliva on your chin, the prickle of tears at the corners of your eyes from the way he keeps hitting the back of your throat. Only he gets to see you like this. Only he gets to be with someone who will stop at nothing to make him feel supported and loved over something as trivial as a night of bad luck.

“I…you’re…” he gasps, unable to complete his thoughts when you moan around him. “Please just—just keep…don’t stop…don’t—”

As the tension builds, Nanami’s control begins to slip. His thrusts lose their measured control, the hands in your hair tighten, the quick breath from his mouth becomes tight as he bares his teeth and fucks your mouth. His abs are glistening with sweat, tight and flexing as he fights to stay sane.

You’re ready to burst from the seams, pleasure coiling at the base of your spine with each curl of your fingers inside of you, moans tight and sporadic in a familiar sign of your impending orgasm.

It’s when his eyes catch you fingering yourself that his control snaps in half, setting him off. He’s grabbing at you, yanking you from your knees with a strength that shocks you, your towel finally falling off your body and exposing you to the heat of the bathroom. Before you can protest, Nanami moves in a flourish, the last threads of his control dissolving at the shocked but excited gasp that leaves your lips.

In one fluid motion, he spins you around to face the bathroom mirror. Your breath catches at the sight of you both—flushed, desire-drunk, tanned and freckled muscles pressed against your back. His eyes meet yours in the reflection, a primal hunger burning in their depths, black eating away the warm brown.

The press of his cock against your lower back makes you arch your back, leaning over the counter without a second thought, taking him in through the mirror. His hands roam over your body with renewed confidence, cupping the heaviness of your breasts, sliding down tiger-striped brown skin to grip your hips. His eyes trail over the mess of curls on your sweaty back, the curve of your ass, the glistening of your cunt as it catches in the bathroom light.

He looks focused, almost angry—determined to make sure he does exactly what he’s supposed to do. Your body shivers in anticipation. This is the Nanami you’ve been missing—strong, confident, and utterly, deliciously yours.

Without preamble, you part your legs more, opening yourself up to his leering gaze as he watches you slide two fingers through your sopping folds. “I need you,” you whisper, your other hand kneading the flesh of a breast, pinching the nipple to make you arch your back more into him.

He presses forward at the sound of your voice, a beacon for him to bring you whatever you desire. “You have me.”

You feel him, hot and hard against you, and you can’t stifle the moan that escapes you. “All of you Kento,” you whimper, pushing back against him and stroking your clit faster, your slick sliding down your fingers to the center of your palm. “No more holding back, no more doubts. Show me how much you want me.”

In the mirror, the trepidation in his eyes, the worry between his brows. The disappointment from that night is surely playing in his head, teasing him evilly that he will never be able to make love to you again. But you won’t let him feel that way again, you’ll never let him feel inadequate. So you turn slightly to reach behind you, smooth a hand up the side of his face, caressing his jaw, angling your head to the side to kiss him softly. “You’re perfect,” you breathe, the words barely a whisper between you both, the perfect combination to relax the subtle tension in his shoulders. “So perfect for me, Kento.”

He releases a shaky exhale against your lips from your words, the vibration traveling through your body where you’re pressed together. With one hand braced on your waist, the other guiding himself, his eyes not leaving yours, Nanami pushes into you slowly. Finally. Twenty-five days too late and the feeling of completeness, of absolute rightness, is overwhelming. It’s as if a missing piece of you has been slotted back into place.

You whimper, panting into his mouth, sliding your lips messily against his. Your body stretches to accommodate him, a delicious burn that makes your toes curl and your cunt pulse around him.

“Oh fuck, Kento,” you keen, “you’re so fucking big—fill me so well—” His hips snap forward, cutting you off, a sharp cry punching from your lungs.

“I-I shouldn’t have—” he pants against your lips, ready to apologize from the force but you don’t let him finish.

“Yes,” you encourage, your voice breathy from the delicious zing of pleasure that throbs between your legs. “You feel amazing, Ken. So perfect.”

He shivers from your words and starts a slow, almost tentative rhythm. But your continued praise spurs him on. His thrusts become more confident, more forceful, driving you both higher in the stifling heat of your bathroom.

The room fills with the sounds of sex—the slick smack of skin on skin, breathless moans from his full lips, whispered praises from your mouth.

“So good,” you moan softly. “You feel so good inside me.” The hand on your clit resumes its pace, wanting Nanami to be fully immersed in focusing so he can get past this terrible roadblock in his mind.

“More,” he demands, kissing you deeply, the side of your jaw, nibbling your ear, begging you silently for more love and praise. “I-I have to know I’m doing well. That I’m making you feel good—"

“You are,” you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips as he hits that spot deep inside you that makes white spots blot the edges of your vision. “You are—you are, Kento—shit fuck me harder. Give it to me.”

He bends to your will immediately, the pull of your voice—of your demands as easy as breathing, and he’ll give whatever it takes to make sure he can lay everything at your feet. “Fuck,” he groans, digging his fingers into the meat behind your knee, yanking it up onto the counter and you’re opening more, wider for him to slide in further.

It’s messy and animalistic, a building of sweat between your sliding bodies, a gradual intensifying thrum between your legs with each smack of his balls against you. Your body jerks with each thrust, pleasure scratching down your skin with sharp nails as your mind grows hazy, mouth falling open as the tip of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, over and over and over with each inward stroke. The hand on your clit flies up to grab the sweaty porcelain of the sink in front of you, fingernails digging into the rubbery sealant along the sides. The other hand reaches back to tangle your fingers in his hair.

You’ve gone almost a month without him in the most primal way and your body is struggling to keep up. Your lungs struggle to pull in enough air, your slick-coated fingers slip against the sink, your hips burn from the open angle of one leg up on the counter.

But you can’t bring it in yourself to care, too deep in bliss to worry about your wellbeing, the pressure at the base of your spine building and building, molten pleasure bubbling in your gut as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” you gasp as you both climb together, meeting his thrusts as the tension coils tighter in your core. “You’re so strong. Love me so well. Fuck me so well.” Nanami groans harshly, shivering from your praise, reaching down to stroke your neglected clit, and you tense around him, choking at the pleasure that wraps around your throat, your cunt pulsing as it tries to swallow his cock and never let it leave.

You watch in the mirror as Nanami loses himself in the moment, all his doubts and insecurities forgotten. His face is a mask of pleasure and concentration, his body moving with a grace and power that takes your breath away. His hips falter, stuttering briefly to signal his match of mounting pleasure. He leans over you, his face in the crease of your neck, body bowing over to make you press further into the counter, teeth grazing your skin as he groans and pants against you with feral need.

He presses his fingers harder against your clit, rubs with a practiced motion and you’re tensing against the counter, scrambling for purchase on the sink as high-pitched keens shake from your throat. “Fuck right there, Kentooo,” you moan tightly. He moans harshly into the skin of your neck, relishing in the way your hot and wet walls tighten around him, doubling down, the fingers on your waist digging crescent moons into your skin. “Make me cum. Oh fuck, make me cum pleasepleaseplease—”

The hand in his hair tightens around silky strands, your body tenses up, your nose scrunching, pleasure pulsing and building in your cunt as you climb and climb and climb until you shatter.

A cry of his name, loud and primal, rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. Ecstasy floods your system in overwhelming waves, each one threatening to pull you under. Tears gather in the corners of your tightly shut eyes, born from the sheer intensity of your release.

And like always, your pulsing walls are the final push Nanami needs. He thrusts into you harshly with deep punctuating strokes until his balls draw tight, fingers digging deeper, a deep, guttural groan shaking from his body as he finally climbs up that wall of shame and follows you over the edge, his release pulsing hot and deep inside you as your body continues to shudder with aftershocks.

Nanami doesn’t have the energy to pull out, collapsing onto you without grace. The cool counter against your cheek is a balm for your burning skin. As you both come down from your high, trembling and panting, you stroke his scalp with the hand still twisted in his sweaty hair, fading spots behind closed eyelids painting your vision.

After a few moments, Nanami stirs, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder before carefully withdrawing from your body. You whimper at the loss, but he soothes you with another soft kiss on your temple. You hear the sound of running water, the tub filling slowly as Nanami retrieves a warm, damp washcloth.

With tender care, he cleans you up, the soft cloth gliding over your sensitive skin. His touch is reverent, worshipful, as if he’s handling something precious beyond measure, and you melt further onto the counter. Once you’re clean, he guides your leg down from the counter, massaging the muscles of your hips and thighs to ease any lingering tension.

You let him lead you to the tub, sighing in bliss as you sink in the hot, soothing water. Nanami climbs in behind you, pulling you back against his chest as he settles you between his legs. The heat seeps into your aching muscles, the steam smelling faintly of lavender, the gentle lapping of the water against your skin a soothing lullaby.

For a long moment, you simply rest together, your head tipped back on his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around your waist as a thumb strokes the skin. The bathroom is quiet, save for the occasional drip of the faucet and your slow, even breathing.

Your mind drifts to the vulnerability you’ve witnessed in Nanami, the raw, unguarded moments he’s bared his deepest fears and insecurities. And only you will be the one to see that. You’ll be the only one to build him back up when he’s stripped down, to remind him of his worth, to love through every storm. Even storms that are as weak and barely damaging as limp dick.

“Thank you,” he finally speaks, rich voice vibrating against your skin, filling you with warmth from the inside out. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply as if to memorize the smell of your leave-in. “For being patient with me…for being supportive…” You feel the tension drain from his body as he exhales, slowly, as if he’s releasing the last of his worries into the steam-filled air. “I love you. Deeply.”

You smile softly to yourself at the declaration and turn your head to meet his gaze, your eyes sparkling with a mix of adoration and mischief.

“This wasn’t an easy assignment you know,” you tease, your voice lighthearted even as emotion threatens to overwhelm you. “I expect payment for my unwavering devotion.”

Nanami’s eyes, hazy with post-orgasmic bliss, roll playfully, a smile tugging the edges of his lips. “What’s my bill?”

"Moissanite,” you declare matter-of-factly, nestling back against his broad chest with a contented sigh. “The carats are up to you, but—“

“A gold band,” Nanami interjects, warm with affection and certainty. “Emerald cut. I have it memorized, my love.”

He punctuates his words with a tender kiss to your temple, his arms tightening around you as if he never wants to let go. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, a kaleidoscope of butterflies set free by his words.

“The box in the closet? Throw the penis pump and the Viagra in the trash,” you add, playfully jabbing your elbow into his side. “You won’t be needing those anymore.”

Nanami’s laughter rumbles through you, a deep, satisfying sound that fills the room and washes over your skin like a physical caress. “And if I want to be prepared, just in case?” he counters, his tone light and teasing.

“You’re 28, not 50,” you remind him, your own laughter mingling with his.

“Humor me.”

“I guess I could gather up all the magazines, powders, supplements, and various “aids” and present them to you in a nice box for you to use one day. Of course, you’d be single, so I’m not sure what good they’d do you then.”

Nanami’s body shakes with mirth, his breath puffing warm and sweet against your hair. “In the trash they go.”

You hum in agreement, an eyebrow raised before you tilt your chin. And like always, because you never have to ask, Nanami obliges, his lips slanting over yours in a slow, deep caress that steals your breath and fills your heart all at once.

Thanks for reading!

604 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 2 months

Text

Ghost (Logan Howlett x reader)

A/N: this is my first attempt at a fic in a while, so please just bear with me. This takes place after the events of Deadpool and Wolverine. I feel like I am not too great at writing Wade’s character and I think I’m still learning how to write Logan so just please don’t hate me if anything seems out of character. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: cursing, mentions of thoughts of suicide, nothing else out of the ordinary for a Deadpool and Wolverine fic

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: What happens when the man who broke your heart shows up on your doorstep with a weird man claiming to be from another universe?

As you were tying your robe into place, the sound of glass shattering in the other room caught your attention.

“Fuck.” You muttered before hastily making your way down the hallway. “Nugs, what the hell are you doing in here?”

The overweight orange cat meowed loudly from where he sat on the floor. Directly beside him was a pile of dirt and the remnants of your favorite flower pot.

“Nugget! Dude, we have talked a million times about you trying to get up on that shelf.” You shooed the cat away from the mess, then went to retrieve a broom. “You are far too big to be trying to climb up there. You could get hurt.”

He meowed again and rubbed against your calf, offering his own version of an apology.

You swept the dirt and plant material into the dustpan. As you were making your way towards the trash can, a firm knock came at the front door.

Nugget started meowing loudly. It was almost like he was trying to imitate a siren and warn you that there was someone at the door.

Cautiously, you moved towards the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, sure, but you also knew absolutely no one in the city, so why would someone be knocking on your door at 11:30 on a Wednesday night?

You pulled the door open to see an unknown man. He wore a trucker hat with the words ‘this is actually my first rodeo’ stitched on to it. He was wearing a gray hoodie and jeans. The skin covering his face was scarred badly.

“Can I help you?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh my FUCK! You didn’t tell me we were coming to see Y/N!” The man turned around to reveal Logan Howlett.

Your heart jumped to your throat at the sight of him, and the very thought of breathing went right out the window.

He stood with his arms crossed. The dark red flannel he wore stretched over his muscles. It was like the shirt was two sizes too small for him. The jeans he wore were dark and fit him snug. His hair wasn’t as poofy as you remembered it being, but it was still styled and spiked just like he had always done.

As you took in the sight of the Wolverine, you realized he didn’t look as unkempt as you so vividly recalled him being the last time that you saw him.

“Uh, hi, Y/N.”

Hearing him say your name almost made you vomit right then and there. It had been years since you last heard him say your name.

You snapped out of your trance, the tension and nerves in your stomach twisting into anger.

“What the fuck do you want, Logan?”

”I know it’s a long shot, but we need somewhere to stay for the night.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. What made him think he had the right to ask you for anything?

You started to close the door but the man you didn’t know stopped you, placing his hand on the door.

“Hold on just a second, Y/N! We have some wild— and I mean wild —stories to tell you.”

”I don’t know you, fuck nuts.” You snapped. Your irises disappeared as the entire eye turned black. “Now if you two don’t get the hell away from my apartment—,”

”I know you don’t owe me anything, Y/N.” Logan paused, taking a second to admire how stunning you looked. You stood there in nothing but a soft pink robe with little cherries all over it and your hair was wet. You even smelled the same. “We’re doing some…. work nearby and we need somewhere to stay.”

”Go fuck yourself, how about that?” You tried to close the door but this time Logan stopped you. His hand was firm and steady as he held the door open.

“I-I just want to talk to you.”

You held his gaze, your eyes returning to their normal Y/E/C color.

Perhaps if he hadn’t looked so different from the last time you saw him, you’d slam the door in his face. But he didn’t look broken, his eyes weren’t empty. The Logan standing before you was more like the one you fell in love with years ago, rather than the one who had broken your heart.

“When was the last time you had a drink?”

Logan let out a heavy breath and almost rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. It was, like, forty-five minutes ago. But it was just one drink.”

”He’s seriously been cutting back on the alcohol.” The stranger nodded his head. “But if you ask me, I’d rather him be loaded with that shit. Makes him more tolerable.”

Logan elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

”It’s a good thing I didn’t ask you then isn’t it, buddy?” I raised my brows at the stranger.

”Yikes, you are just like I remember you being. All sweet and mean and shit.”

“Please, Y/N.” Logan pulled your attention back to him.

With a sigh of defeat, you stepped back and held the door for the two men.

“Yes! Thank you, Y/N.” The stranger happily entered your home. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what your place was like. The you from my world banned me from her place a long time ago. We wear the same size shoes, you know. And apparently, she doesn’t like to share. Said I stretched out her Burkins. And her nighties.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened to the man ramble.

“Who in the fuck are you?”

”Wade Wilson.” The man turned around to face you, holding his hand out. “You might know me as Deadpool.”

”No, actually. I don’t.” You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Where the hell did you get this guy, Logan?”

”Uh, it’s a long story.”

”I can explain it all, momma. Let’s have a seat.” Wade gestured to your kitchen table and then pulled a chair out.

***

You stepped out onto your balcony, pulling a carton of cigarettes from the pocket in your jacket. Your eyes flickered out over the city.

Never in a million years did you think that Logan Howlett would show up at your apartment looking like a kicked dog. Never in a million years did you think he’d be able to dig himself out of the hole he tried to bury himself in ages ago. And never in a million years did you think he would have the guts to stand in front of you asking to stay for just the night.

He needed somewhere to stay for the night, somewhere to rest in the midst of whatever the fuck he was doing. And with him came a strange man by the name of Wade Wilson.

The air was cool and a gentle breeze blew through your hair. The faint sound of car horns kept you from being too absorbed by your own thoughts.

Out of the corner of your eye, something moved. It was Wade.

You took a puff of the cigarette and then offered it to him.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m trying to limit my oral intake of carcinogens.”

You nodded, finding it best not to question him, and moved to sit down at the little table.

“Sometimes I think things couldn’t get any more crazy. The man who broke my heart and made me contemplate offing myself shows up at my front door out of the blue with a man claiming to be from another universe entirely. How am I supposed to react to that?”

Wade opened his mouth to answer your rhetorical question with something sassy, but he stopped himself. He could see that your eyes were glossy and your breath was shaky. Your hand trembled as you held the cigarette up to your lips.

He slipped into the seat next to you, racking his brain for something to say.

“Did you know that?” You asked him, your eyes finding his. “That when we broke up, when he…. When Logan decided that he was done…. I thought about killing myself.”

”No, I didn’t.” Wade spoke softly.

”We were together for years. Almost a lifetime. And he just…. He just couldn’t take it anymore. After what happened at the school.” You paused for a moment. “He couldn’t move on, but he couldn’t die either. Everything just turned him into someone I— someone I didn’t know. Don’t know.”

Wade watched you in silence. His chest began to feet tight, like it was hard for him to breathe. Seeing his best friend— or at least his best friend in his world —so torn up, so genuinely hurt, made Deadpool feel bad.

“In my world, you two were together until his dying breath.”

Your eyes snapped over to him, unsure that you had heard him right.

”What?”

”Wherever you were, he was not too far behind. You two were inseparable. Practically joined at the hip.”

You gazed at him for a few moments, giving yourself time to process his words. An ache began to stir in your gut, the same ache that you fought every single minute of every single day to suppress.

“He-He died? In your- In your world, I mean.”

”Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Wade rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “It was a real dark time for everyone. I never even got to team up with him before he croaked.”

You flicked the ashes from your cigarette into an ashtray. You leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breath.

“Your Logan, was he like this one?”

“Very similar. This one gives off slutty vibes. And he’s more drunk than the one from my world.”

“Was I happy with him, Wade?”

The Deadpool looked at you for a while. It was so weird to him that you were questioning your happiness with Logan Howlett. In his world, all you ever did was talk about Logan, about the memories you had with him.

“Happier than anyone I ever knew.” He nodded his head softly. “Look, I don’t know your situation with him in this world, but I think you should let him talk to you.”

You took a deep breath of the cigarette. The back of your throat burned.

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Just let him talk and explain himself. Make him feel like a dick for what he did. Then have the hottest makeup sex ever. Lovers-to-enemies-back-to-lovers sex is the best. Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t had a chance to experience that yet. Still on my bucket list.”

“He wouldn’t listen to me before. What makes you think he’ll listen to me now?”

“In our little journey we’ve had, I think I’ve been a good influence on him. I got him to smile, like, three times.”

You wanted to believe him, to trust the words he was telling you and the grin on his face. But you couldn’t stop thinking back to the Logan you remembered.

The cigarette between your fingertips disappeared beneath your touch, the gentle breeze taking away the particles of what was left of it.

You looked down at your hand, a shaky breath leaving through your lips.

“I don’t know, Wade.”

“That’s okay, momma. That’s okay.” He put his hands up. “It’s late and it’s been a wild and odd day for you. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, standing from your chair.

He stood to his feet and looked down at you for a few moments. Then his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Oh, uh–,”

“Shhh. Just let me hug you.” He whispered.

You were confused and shocked a little bit, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

“You smell just like the Y/N from my world.”

”Alright, okay.” You pulled away from him.

“I’m gonna go see if the princess is done with her shower yet.”

“Goodnight, Wade.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You watched him walk back into your apartment and he disappeared around a corner.

You stood there for a few moments in silence. He was an interesting man. You almost enjoyed how much he constantly annoyed Logan.

“What a fucking day.” You rubbed your temple with one hand as you moved to return to your seat.

The cigarette pack was pulled from your jacket pocket and you took out a second cigarette. You put the stick between your lips, then reached back into your pocket to pull out a lighter.

Someone cleared their throat. You turned your head to see Logan standing in the doorway. He was in a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was damp, a telltale sign that he had just gotten out of the shower.

You said nothing to him for a few heartbeats.

“Your friend is strange.” You nodded to the seat beside you that Wade had previously sat in. As Logan sat down, you held out the pack of cigarettes for him.

“Thanks.” He muttered, taking the box and pulling a cigarette out. You took it back from him and tossed it down onto the table. “He’s…. He’s not too bad.”

You lit your cigarette, then passed the lighter to Logan.

”When’d you take up smoking?” He placed the lighter down on the table next to the pack of cigarettes.

“Couple years ago.”

Logan wanted to look at you, to see how much you had changed in the years since he had last seen you. But he couldn’t bring himself to see the way that you looked at him. The sadness. The grief. The anger. So instead, the Wolverine focused his gaze on the skyline ahead.

The two of you sat there in silence for what felt like ages. Part of you didn’t know what to say, but the other part of you didn’t feel like it was your job to be the first to speak. That was on him.

You finished the cigarette with one final deep breath, then you put it out in the ashtray. The silence was getting to be too much, and you contemplated getting a third cigarette.

“Why did you come here, Logan?” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

”I wanted to…. I guess I just wanted to see you.” He blew a cloud of smoke from his lips. “The whole way here, I was trying to think of something to say, of what I could say to apologize to you, to show you that I am sorry. But nothing is good enough. Nothing sounds good enough.”

You turned your head to look at him, tilting your head to the side just a little.

“Start with an actual apology, Logan. Tell me that you are sorry. God knows you’ve never fucking done that before.”

Logan pressed his lips together tightly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, not yet at least.

“I am sorry, Y/N.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until the breeze blowing over the balcony made your damp cheeks feel cold. You turned away from him, hastily wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I am— I’m so, so fucking sorry for everything.” Logan’s voice was quiet.

“I thought about killing myself, Logan.”

It was his turn to look at you. His brows were drawn together and his lips parted.

“What?”

“I had no one left. The Professor was gone. Storm, Jean, there was no one fucking left for me to go to.” Your voice trembled as you said each name.

“I’m— Y/N, I’m sorry. I just…. There was a lot going on and I—,”

”You don’t think I didn’t fucking see what was going on, Logan?” You cut him off. The sadness and grief you felt quickly turned to anger. “I wanted to help you. I did everything I could to try to help you! And you just shot me down like I was a fucking nobody to you. Like we hadn’t spent the last fifteen plus years together!”

”I didn’t know how to process everything!” He raised his voice. All the emotions from all those years ago came flooding back to him. “You couldn’t fix everything, Y/N! You couldn’t just make things better with a snap of your fingers! I was an asshole. The biggest fucking asshole in the world. And I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You stood to your feet. The thought of just sitting idly while you felt the white hot anger of a thousand suns under your skin made you want to vomit.

“Fuck you, Logan. Actually and genuinely fuck you. To think you have the right to find me and just waltz in and try to apologize for fucking being the absolute biggest dickhead in the entire—,”

Logan cut you off by wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you into what was perhaps the tightest hug you had ever had in your life. He buried his face against the side of your head, his hands pressing firmly into your back.

You were frozen in shock for the first few seconds. What was he doing? What was he trying to do?

”I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

And just like that, you melted around him. Your arms wrapped around his torso. You buried your face in his chest.

Sure, you weren’t completely accepting of his apology. There were still plenty of conversations the two of you needed to have to work through your issues. But you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been dreaming about this moment for years.

You stood there for a long time, probably too long, holding him as tight as you possibly could. Your tears dampened his hoodie at the center of his chest and you were sure you could feel his own tears making your hair damp.

When he finally felt that he had held you for long enough, Logan pulled back. You looked up at him, taking in a shaky breath through your lips. His large hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing the tears away.

”We should go to sleep.”

”Yeah.” You nodded your head, stepping away from him so that you could gather yourself quickly. “Um, yeah. I think Wade said something about sharing the guest bed with you.”

”Oh, great.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“You can always sleep on the couch if you want.” You offered, moving around him and into your apartment.

You stopped in the kitchen to watch him. As he stepped into the dim lighting of your home, you found yourself staring at him once more. It felt like you were dreaming, like maybe this was some sort of coma dream. Maybe you fell down the stairs in your apartment and this wasn’t real.

”Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Logan.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan howlett fic #Logan howlett angst #Logan Howlett #Wade Wilson #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine #Deadpool #X-men #queenxxxsupreme

532 notes · View notes