#putting this fic in a jar and shaking it

[feroluce]

I've only recently started having my own thoughts about Emanator!Sampo and I think my favorite version of this is that he is technically an Emanator, it's just that he doesn't talk about it because Aha is a dick who only blesses people that don't want it and Sampo hates it here dkjxkdkdck

Aha blessed the Mourning Actors! A whole faction of people who have specifically made it their life's mission to resist Elation! THEY made a literal worm THEIR Emanator just to see if it would be accepted into the Genius Society! And when it wasn't, Aha just as easily killed it and tossed it aside! So I feel like there is a good possibility that Aha looked down at Sampo, this little oddball who doesn't seem to even like Epsilon or a lot of the Masked Fools and was like.

Hey.

You know what would be really really funny.

And I feel like being an Emanator wouldn't even be a plus for Sampo, because of how he operates. Sampo excels at blending in; he managed to smuggle himself onto a planet

that had been isolated for 700 years,

with only one (1) single city on it,

and going even further, he snuck himself into the Underground,

where the population is even more sparse,

and STILL. Not a single accusation of him being an alien! Not even after the Astral Express lands and proves that interstellar space travel is possible! Sampo is so thoroughly ingrained into Belobog that yeah, some people admit they don't know his origins, but none of it ever comes with the question of whether he actually is a Belobog native or not. Sampo knows exactly how to blend himself into his surroundings in the most subtle way possible. And being an Emanator, something far more powerful than any normal human or Pathstrider could ever hope to be, would only throw in a massive extra variable for him. Sampo would have to be so so careful to keep a lid on his Emanator traits, to keep up the appearance of being totally normal and average at all times. It doesn't help him at all.

And this part is pure indulgence, but I love taking Aha's closeness with mortals, and THEIR tendency to take human form, and twisting it into a case of THEM using Sampo as a vessel.

I want Aha to look at Sampo the same way all of us look at Sampo. A chew toy. A plaything. Something to shove through the meat grinder. Aha thinks Sampo is hilarious and a funny, silly little guy, and THEY want to put him in Situations just to see what he does. Sampo is not a fan.

This though, this is what makes Sampo so wildly entertaining as a vessel. Because Aha knows that Sampo does not want to be a vessel, does not even want to be an Emanator, and THEY find it SO much fun to watch the mental gymnastics he has to pull to convince himself he's ok with it, this is fine actually, because he's not exactly about to tell off a literal god. He doesn't feel like getting a smiting today, please and thank you.

Because squeezing yourself into a human vessel is so different than merely adopting a human disguise, there's already a human soul in there, it's kind of a tight fit. If Sampo doesn't make room, doesn't all but dissociate right out of his own body, it could cause. Consequences.

And so, Aha always gives a warning, just to watch him squirm.

It begins with the sound of bells.

Just little ones, at first. Small, clinking little sounds that could even be considered nice. Something almost gentle, like a wind chime in a pleasant breeze on a warm day. This is the signal for the countdown.

Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Makes himself as small as possible within his own body.

The bells rise and multiply, tinkling wind chimes give way to sleigh bells, to shopkeepers bells, the sound of something inevitable approaching, something entering.

Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Dilutes himself, weaker and weaker concentrations.

The bells rise and rise, multiply and multiply, celebration and tragedy resonating in the sound of church bells, ringing bright and loud, the sounds of weddings and funerals both the same.

Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Becomes like smoke, like vapor. Hollows himself out.

Empty, empty, empty until he echoes, like a bell, like something with the sole purpose of being shaken and rattled around, a thing to be struck, the sounds jarring and punched out and gasping and piercing the air, the lung, the eardrum.

Sampo breathes in.

Beaten he rings, bashed in he sings.

Aha breathes out.

[problemduetest4life]

IT'S WIP O'CLOCK

~

“I thought you’d be different,” Annalise said, breaking the silence. Jean glanced over at her. She even looked slightly disappointed.

Jean bit back a retort to simply ask, “how?”

“Scarier. Creepier.” Annalise shrugged.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Now the attitude did come through. Jean prepared himself for a barrage of questions regarding whatever the latest rumor about him was.

“Join the club,” Annalise said with the wave of her hand, bracelets jingling.

“I was...scarier. But the Trojan’s helped me,” Jean said, for some reason he didn’t know. It wasn’t his business to meddle in Jeremy’s family life and there was no reason to defend himself to a stranger.

“Right. You joined the Trojans and they fixed you up good as new. Boring! I’ve heard that story before. Tell a different one.”

“There isn’t a different one,” Jean said.

“What were you addicted to? Oh, even better. Who’d you kill?” Annalise antagonized.

Jean had struck a nerve, but he was unbeknownst to when. Still, it was easy to let her words roll off him without harm when he knew the cause of her pain had nothing to do with him.

“Jeremy's past is far from the worst one on the team, if that is what you’re asking.”

Jean turned to face her when he said it, so she’d get the message

“Of course, he told you. Can’t talk about the miraculous recovery without the sob story first,” Annalise said, crossing her arms.

“He is not the worst,” Jean reiterated. Far from it.

“Well, spare me the details."

“A moment ago, you wanted me to be scarier,” Jean said, feeling somewhat inspired.

“That was before I remembered I actually don’t care,” Annalise shot back.

“Do you care that I’m on the team because of your family’s image or because you’re looking after Jeremy?” Jean asked. He was on a roll, now. He was starting to understand why Cat liked talking so much. If he always sounded this smart, Jean might indulge more often.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Annalise laughed harshly. “I stopped caring what Jeremy did after I caught him doing a line of coke off a locker room bench.”

~

a sneak peak into chapter 10 :)

read here: All the cookie wrappers, and the empty cups of tea

[divineatrophy]

“Did it work? Do you feel protected from all the pieces of yourself that you can’t remember? Do you feel less burdened?” His eyelids flutter again like he wants to close them, but he doesn’t look away. Credit where credit is due—he doesn’t flinch. “No,” Armand says. One word. Small, tight, subdued. And for once, true. Daniel’s mouth is dry. “Yeah,” he says, holding Armand’s gaze, and in the moment he feels made of glass. “Me neither.”

chapter 5: a list, surgical scars, and a dream (everybody cheers)

[turtleducknewton]

“This artifact was presented as a recent discovery. And the address is correct,” Edgar said, flipping to the page in his journal where he’d jotted down notes for this case. “Zora said the artifact was for sale at this shop, I don’t understand how that knowledge could be this out of date. Unless—” A feeling of dread settled over Edgar as the pieces fell into place. His gaze met Malcolm’s as they both seemed to realize what this was. But neither had a chance to warn the others before a strange voice cut through the silence.

An assignment goes wrong, leaving Grimoria injured. And Edgar, but he's far less concerned about that.

[nerdesti]

my top 3 favorite Hazbin Hotel Characters(because i love them all actually):

1: Sir Pentious because he is silly and goofy and I want to give him the best snake terrarium for him and his little egg boiz.

2: Lucifer, because he is a sad pathetic little man with depression and I can relate(also maybe I have daddy issues but we won't go there)

3: Alastor, because his character concept, personality, design, etc, is so fucking fascinating I want to put him in a jar and violently shake it to see what would happen :)

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

"I may have said things to you that I invented Pete, but I have never lied to you."

relistening to junoverse, specifically nureyev lore heavy eps, and thinking about how honesty is the biggest thing Nureyev values. thinking about how he doesn't want to lie to Juno, he'd rather not say anything or run away. thinking about how he flits between aliases and how he comes back to being Peter Ransom.

[squoosh-the-floof-writes]

*Maniacal Laughter*

Oh BTTF fandom, guess who’s back with another fic she wrote???

[transmarks]

in an exercise in simply booling out, i've posted the prologue to the peter kilmer/helena eagan art school fic.

Helena & Peter: No 😘

[darkscaleswriter]

⭐️ pls tell me more about your fic pls it’s wonderful 🥹❤️

:D the fic in question

ahhh im so glad you like it!! thank you for giving me the opportunity to ramble about this fic haha. i have SO many emotions about casey jones jr and the future timeline turtles, im never getting over the tragedy of that movie opening. future mikey's wink as he tears open space and time. future leo's "it's not about me" and the way he physically throws casey through the portal. like!!! hello!!!

imo part of what makes the future timeline so tragic is that so much of the show before this point (especially s2) focused on the hamato motto of "anata wa hitori ja nai," even before the turtles actually learned about the hamato clan. none of them have ever been alone, and as part of the hamato clan, legacies of generations upon generations of mystic warriors, they never will be. except then the bad future timeline shows up, and. they're gone. the family is fractured, the turtles are dead, and the last survivor, casey jr, is sent back alone.

so, that's kind of a long way to say that the conception of "write our names in the wet concrete" came from me taking this tragedy and shoving anata wa hitori ja nai in its face. lol.

in the fic, the moment future mikey decides that hes not going to let future leo die is the moment of canon divergence from the movie. the reason he actually manages it is bc in that moment, mikey and all of the hamato spirits look at the last surviving members of their family and say, no. we refuse. the war might be lost, but we will ensure that no member of our clan will be left alone.

it's not just mikey at the end, here, throwing leo back along with casey. it's him and donnie and raph and april and splinter and karai and even oroku saki, every single hamato all at once, facing down the end of the world and choosing to save the last of their family whether they like it or not.

sorry future leo, you dont get a choice! but hey, at least casey isn't stuck in the past and cut off from everything he's ever known by himself, right? :3

the reason i set the fic as pre-show instead of at the movie is bc i really wanted to focus on casey jr's relationship with future leo, and what that might look like when they're forced to actually, like. live semi-regular lives instead of being tossed directly into a high-stakes mission. the looming specter of the krang invasion is a constant stressor, but they also have more immediate things to worry about for a change. like money! big rip to future leo, forgetting that was a thing.

and casey junior learning to live in a non-apocalyptic society is always fun haha. he's a semi-feral apocalypse child who's used to eating rats and leaves! writing his pov is an entertaining challenge, bc he only knows things about pre-apocalyptic society via snippets hes heard from older ppl/family stories, and he approaches the world through a very different lens as a result. he is definitely going to hunt an alley rat at some point and be like :D look theres so much meat on this!! and non-apocalypse survivors around him are like uhhh kiddo wtf. are you... are you seriously going to eat that.

casey, already roasting it over a fire: yes?? why would i not??

anyway, im going to cut myself off before i ramble about this fic forever and spoil future chapters (currently writing chapter 5 :D), but thank you so much for reading it!! im having a lot of fun with this au and i'm glad you are too ^.^

(feel free ask me anything about my fics!)

[distant-screaming]

Okay okay more Eclipse thoughts because they live in my head rent free!

So Ayan is a bad liar - not bad as in 'bad at lying' (that honor goes to Akk) but more that he never outright lies. Half truths, yes, or lies by omission - but I can't think of any moment in where Aye outright lies, especially to Akk.

On the other hand, Akk... lies a fair amount. Even something like going through Aye's bag and then pretending otherwise - it shows the contrast between their characters and environments and I love it so so much.

Aye hasn't ever really had to lie - the consequences of his actions has never been huge + his family is supportive enough that he's able to freely admit his own thoughts and opinions. Plus, his personality also adds to that. Conversely, Akk has to lie all the time - the consequences of being honest at the wrong time are at a different level entirely. (For example, Akk's scholarship being put at risk after their fight, vs Aye... getting a disappointed look?) For Akk, being honest the way Aye is is a price he can't pay.

Plus, there's another factor here in which Ayan is honest, yes - but he's secretive. He doesn't tell anyone about Uncle Dika, he keeps his cards close to his chest. And Akk is dishonest, but he wears everything on his sleeve - his thoughts are clear as day on his face all the time. (Plus, I don't think he necessarily goes out of his way to hide his involvement with the curse, either?) They're just so silly I love them (torments them endlessly) <3

Also there's a really fascinating thing in how Akk and Ayan interact with each other and how, by the end of the show, they're both so honest and open with each other but I don't have the time to write out the whole thing sjfoskfkf

[voltgoats]

i feel like if there was an au wherein Willow and Charlie's roles were swapped, everything would simply have gone So Much Worse. like, i think Willow would have encouraged Maxwell. she would make him worse

i do not dare imagine what a Constant with Willow (worse edition) in charge would be like, because just thinking about it a teeny tiny bit leads me to believe no one would survive a singular day. she would be a menace beyond belief and reason. Maxwell would be so very proud off her up until he gets hit with the character growth (i.e, realising she's not going soft on him), and then he would be scrambling to get her off that throne immediately

[kochanski]

ANYWAYS decided that instead of writing literally any of the ideas I had before I was gonna just write some short-form kochanski/lister cause... im in a Mood about it lately and I don't really know why

[babieswrld]

RIP Jonas Miller you would have loved the enemies to lovers trope

[sombreset]

Actually crazy that after all the writing I’ve ever done I don’t feel like I’ll ever write something as cathartic as a horribly tragic pokemon fanfic that I haven’t stopped thinking about for *checks watch* 12 years

Wherever that guy is I hope he’s happy

[squoosh-the-floof-writes]

Woe! Angst be upon the!

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up.