#tough boi kitty

[wikitpowers]

kit in twp: i’m a cold cold person who has dark, unknown faerie powers which could kill all of you if i so wished, i don’t need anyone or anything, i’m a tough man grr grr don’t come close to me

also kit in twp:

[cheese-ducks]

To everyone in the comments of Online calling Meouch a cop

I TOLD YOU SO

[curious-kat]

sometimes he climbs right up onto my chest and purrs really loudly

[lxnarphase]

BITCH, YOU KNOW I'M SEXY ᯓ★

━━ ❝ I'M NOT YOUR MOMMY, N★GGA! FIND A NEW HOBBY, N★GGA! ❞ wc. 5.4k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : being toji's roommate, you finally snap after another night of not being able to sleep because of his damn late-night hookups. your house, your rules.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x f. toji, frenemies to lovers, smut, face-sitting + pussy eating, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, playful arguing, hair pulling, size kink, begging, riding, unprotected sex (do not do this in real life omfg), dom-ish reader, sub-ish toji, lots of pet names, toji being an asshole, toji gets called a 'good boy' a few times

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's notes : toji toji toji, what am i going to do with you...anyways, this was super fun and i love these two so much and i need them to go out on a date properly at some point ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎

you love sleep. absolutely love and cherish it, even.

every night, you follow the routine you set for yourself without fail: hot shower, slipping into some comfy PJs, in-depth skincare, brushing your teeth, and then pulling your bonnet on.

nothing is better than slipping into bed, soft sheets feeling sooo good on your skin. yes, you absolutely love sleep.

except it seems that your roommate has no respect for your need for rest, considering how many times you've had to hear the high-pitched whining of women paired with the annoying thud of the headboard against the wall.

he better not damage the wall either, because he will be the one paying for it.

you both were...sort of friends, sure, but ever since you both graduated college, toji has been doing his best to get on your nerves. constantly picking on you, teasing you, or doing stupid shit that annoys the fuck out of you. especially whenever he leaves the fucking toilet seat up in the middle of the night.

and every time he hears you squeal late at night in the bathroom before shouting his name, he can't help but laugh.

eventually, it went from him just doing things to inconvenience or mess with you to this. and you were tired.

these nightly...activities of his need to be addressed because you are not letting a man of all things be the reason you can't sleep soundly at night. this is your apartment, after all!

it's a friday night and you just know you need to talk to him before you have to hear some woman fighting for her life of toji does...whatever he does that has all these women coming in and out of your apartment like it's a damn brothel...okay, well, it was the same two women, but still!

so that's how you find yourself, pounding on his door, sleepy, tired, and irritated in your hello kitty pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, ready to get in bed and actually sleep.

"fushiguro, open this damn door," you command, fluffy slipper tapping on the floor as you wait for him to open his door. after a minute, you hear a groan and the shuffling of sheets before the door swings open.

toji stands in the doorway, only in a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips with an eyebrow raised as he looks down at you. you don't care how hot he looks, you want nothing more than to wipe that look off his face, hating how smug he looks.

"whaddya want? 's she here already? told 'er not to come for another 2 hours," he mumbles, scratching at the scar on his lip. you're silent for a moment, processing what he just said. "who......no. nononono. absolutely not, tell whoever you are expecting she is not coming into my apartment."

crossing your arms, you fix him with a tough look. sure, you know you aren't the scariest thing, especially in hello kitty pants and puffy slippers, but it doesn't matter! he is going to respect your wishes or...or else!

"aww, what's wrong, doll? can't sleep," he teases, voice low and sinfully smooth as smirk finds its way onto his face. "guess ya should've invested in those headphone y'keep talkin' about so much. can't help that 'm just that good that the girlies can't keep their mouths shut."

having you in front of his bedroom door like this...it's so fucking adorable to him, you were just so cute and didn't have a single clue, did you? complaining that he and his little playthings were too loud and keeping you up was not what he expected. but, toji won't lie, he's genuinely surprised it took you so long to finally say something.

it seems his little comment struck a cord, his smirk getting bigger when your eyes get just a bit wider in disbelief. man, you were so fucking cute like this, all angry and huffy.

"okay, first of all, those headphones are NOT comfy to sleep with at night. and i'm not dropping almost $400 dollars on something so that i can accommodate for you," you argue, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his stupidly big chest.

no, seriously, why were his pecs almost bigger than your tits?

"can you please just let me sleep for one night, or are you that sex deprived you can't go a single night without getting your dick wet?"

whatever this new side of you was, he liked it.

"aww, sounds like little princess s' mad no one's fuckin' her right. ya not gettin' fucked good, pipsqueak? haven't seen yer boy-toy around lately anyways.

"god, that's—that's none of your fucking business, fushiguro, shut up!"

"make me."

you blink.

a moment passes...and suddenly, your eyes are sharp.

ah...he might've fucked up with those two simple words.

"...you know what? i will, you annoying fuck."

catching toji off guard, you shove him back, taking advantage of him stumbling to walk inside his room as you slam the door shut behind you. a light chuckle escapes him, eyebrows raises. "so, the little kitten does have claws," he says with a grin.

his little roommate seems to have grown a pair of balls. what is she gonna do? hit him with pillows, curse him out, kick him out? pffft, if you kicked him out he would know you needed sleep, you both have been friends for too long...right?

as toji gets slightly worried he might've genuinely crossed a line (a bit too late to realize that, he realizes), you push him onto his bed, standing between his legs.

oh.

oh, he...he likes you from his angle, looking down at him with a little bit of a pout on those pretty full lips of yours as you try soooo hard to look angry and scary. but how can he be scared when his roommate, the one he's been fucking his hand for, looks so fucking cute?

curly hair a bit frizzy and messy (he's surprised you don't have your bonnet on yet), smelling like cocoa butter and that strawberry shortcake body spray that haunts him at night. and now you're in his fucking room. he'd never be able to escape it now.

fuck, every time you came close to him, he just suddenly couldn't process anything except you...he needed to get a grip.

propping himself up on his elbows, toji locks eyes with you, playing off his surprise. "what's gotten into ya, roomie? so aggressive, might have t' call shiu to come get you," he attempts to playfully poke. the tension in the room grows when you start to massage your temples, trying to calm down.

in.

out.

in.

out.

in-

"well, if lack of sleep is gettin' you all huffed up like this, i gotta couple o' ways t' tire ya out if y'need."

"oh my god, y'talk too fucking much," you grumble.

toji opens his mouth, ready to make another smart comment but he's shocked into silence when you tug your pajama pants off. there's no fucking way this is real. toji knows he has to be dreaming and knowing he'd be waking up with a wet spot in his pants if he didn't wake up soon.

and...are you wearing hello kitty boxer briefs too? god, you're such a fucking dork, it's cute and it's only making him harder in his pants.

but all of that is forgotten when you hook your fingers in the waistband of those stupid looking boxers and drag them down those pretty legs and toji gets a glimpse of your cute, pudgy tummy and...and....

fuck.

he doesn't even get a chance to think, he's so fucking hard. you're fucking half naked in his room right now and he can't tear his eyes away from how soft you look, that little patch of hair (is it shaped like a fucking heart? jesus fucking christ, you were serious about making yourself feel pretty everywhere), god, he's so fucked.

"shit. someone's eager. just couldn' wait to-"

"i'm so sick of you," you cut off, pushing him down onto the bed, crawling up his chest. you give him a look, one that he instantly understands and he smirks, giving you a nod before you continue moving until your hips hover over his face.

the smirk melts off his face when he realizes how real this is. your bare pussy is literally mere inches away from his mouth, so close he can practically taste you.

he's not gonna make it out of this alive, is he?

when you see him about to open his mouth to make another stupid comment, you move, pressing your hips down onto his face, shutting him up. "you wanna use your mouth so much, toj? i'll give you somethin' to use it on."

toji's response is just a muffled groan, his eyes fluttering a little. his hands move up to grip your thighs to steady you and also keep you on his face. he hasn't even tasted you, but shit, you smell so good.

wasting no more time, his tongue hungrily darts out, desperate to taste you. the moment he licks over your folds, he's sighing, melting into the bed. you're so soft, so sweet and he hasn't even gotten a taste from the main source. pulling you down onto his face a bit harder, toji finally swipes through your cunt and he's addicted.

"mmh, fuck," he grunts, burying his face as deep as possible. what the actual fuck are you made of, he thinks to himself. you taste so sweet, he's getting so dizzy as he starts to messily lap up all the slick dripping from your pussy. he barely pulls away from you to breathe, taking just a second to part, his hot breath fanning against the wet mess between your legs before he dives right back in, his low groans resonating against your core so nicely.

toji slurps loudly at your cunt, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips up, the friction of his sweats on his cock a sweet relief. he's so sure this is heaven, thanking whatever god there is for making you snap to this point but then you start talking.

you sigh, hips gently rocking against toji's face as your eyes open to look down your body at him. "mmn, 's better," you purr to yourself, little sweet noises of pleasure escaping you as one of your hands runs through his hair, giving him an encouraging little tug.

"should i just give you my pussy every night so you let me sleep, toj," you coo at him, a smug smile on your face. he didn't even notice his eyes slipped shut, but he opens them, flickering up to meet your lidded gaze and see the pride swirling around your eyes.

has his roommate always been like this? toji doesn't remember you being so fucking sexy like this. sure, you've always been attractive, and he's definitely had a thing for you for a while. but never in his life did he think his sweetheart of a friend would be smushing his face into her soft cunt.

his response is a little nod and an increase in his tongue's movements against your sloppy pussy. his lips move to suck right at your puffy clit, and he swears nearly cums when you gasp his name and whine, pulling him even deeper by his hair.

his train of thought is completely destroyed, he can't think of anything but you, can't feel anything but you, can't see, can't smell, can't taste anything but you.

he'd kill a man if it meant being able to taste you like this every fucking day.

"ohh, tojibaby, y'look s' pretty eating my pussy...poor thing, jus' needed something to shut you up for a bit."

scratch that, he'd kill SEVERAL men if it meant hearing you sing praises like that while you grind against his mouth, practically suffocating him with your thighs.

it's addicting, the way slick is gushing out of you each time he kisses your clit before sucking on it, coating his mouth. toji knows he looks a wreck, but he doesn't care, not when he's got you on him like this.

"d'you wanna make me cum, toj?" you ask it so teasingly, tugging his hair again and making him moan. "you're makin' out with my pussy...such a good boy for me."

those two words are his undoing, a visible shift in his energy. his eyes are sharp, and he almost looks angry as he grips your thighs even harder. "yes, fuck, yeah, mama, i wanna make you cum all over my face," he growls, tongue unrelenting when it slips back inside of your cunt, a nasty wet noise filling the air as you keen. he's fucking you with his tongue so messily, like he'll die if he stops tasting you.

good boy. you called him a good boy.

the compliment made something snap in him, the need to devour you whole the only thing on his mind. he's not just a good boy, no, he's your good boy, and the thought of being yours makes a thick bead of precum to drip out of his cock and stain his sweatpants.

he's brought back when you tug his head back to look at you, that thick tongue of his slipping out of you.

"i don't want you bringing anymore fucking women in my house, fushiguro," you warn, glaring down at him. you're serious. if you see another girl come in here at 11pm, you might actually kill this man in his sleep and not in a way he'd like

"i'm so tired of hearing their annoying moans. if you need a pussy to put your stupid dick in, just ask me, you fuckin' idiot." shit, you usually never talk like this, but toji likes this side of you. the usually sweet and kind roommate he was so used to was no where to be seen, replaced with this commanding and no-nonsense woman who knew what she wanted.

he can't even deny, this side of you is such a massive turn on.

"promise you're gonna let me fuckin' sleep n' i'll cum on your pretty mouth, fushiguro. otherwise, i'm getting up and i'll call shiu and see if he wants a taste."

oh, fuck no. no way in hell is toji letting that smug bastard see you like this, best friend or not.

he desperately nods, just wanting you to let go of his hair so he can dive back into your sweet pussy, licking his lips to taste you again.

"promise, mama, no more bringing other women, jus' you, don't need nobody else but you, y'got my word."

"that's my good boy."

once you let go of his hair, toji dives right back to the task at hand like man possessed. his lips press against your clit, kissing it with little wet smacks before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue doesn't give you a break, flicking over it rapidly. your moans, god, your moans are getting so loud and so pretty, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches you get closer and closer.

"c'mon, doll, please," he begs, a whininess in his voice as he massages your thick thighs, encouraging you to ride his face until you cream all over it. "give it t' me, give me what i wan', cum all over my face, baby girl."

feeling how you start to move your hips, a sweet little 't-toji, 'm gonna cum' falling from your lips, his hands grasp your ass as he seals his mouth over your cunt, sucking and licking desperately.

he needs it.

he needs you.

needs you so fucking bad.

feeling him mutter those words against your cunt makes you gasp and choke out his name, thighs squeezing around his head. "oh, fuck, toji, 'm cummin, baby!" your hands are both in his hair as you desperately hump against his mouth, body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

he doesn't stop, he keeps his mouth on you to make sure not a drop of your sweet cum goes to waste. he can feel it spilling out of his mouth, down his chin and neck. it's so messy, just how he likes it.

he watches you, how could he even think to take his eyes off you? you're so pretty, do you even realize how your hair got puffier and messier from your sweating, how a few of those tiny curls got stuck to your skin?

"g-god, fuck, toj, hoohmygod, your mouth 's so good, nngh!"

shit, you're pretty, so fucking pretty, what the fuck? god, you even cum pretty, toji's so fucked. why didn't he get you on his face like this sooner?

feeling your tremors start to subside, toji slows his tongue, switching to little licks and then to soft kisses against your clit, keeping you grounded as you come down from your high. the fact he didn't paint the inside of his sweatpants white is a miracle, but he knows the front is wet and stained.

when he feels you relax, toji guides you off his face and down to sit on his chest. he can't help the twinkle in his eye, grinning at you proudly. the bottom half of his face is a mess, covered in his spit and your slick. you like this look on him.

"has anyone ever told you that you've got t'most addicting pussy ever?"

you huff a laugh, urging him to move up further on the bed until his back rests against the pillows. he was so annoying, and you hated how attractive it made him. “you’re too awake for my liking," you sarcastically huff, giving him a sweet little pout that makes him feel a bit more things than he probably should.

tugging his sweatpants down, you let out a little noise of surprise.

ah.

it all makes sense now. no wonder those girls sounded like they were dying.

"toji, what the actual hell is wrong with you?!"

"don't get mad at me, ma, i didn't magically make my dick this size! i just got lucky!"

"lucky?! girl, this is a curse, how the fuck did those girls fit this thing in them?!"

"they didn't."

that makes you pause. they couldn't get him all the way inside? glancing down at his cock, heavy in your hand, as he helps to get his pants completely off, you're not surprised. but you could take it, right?

...guess you need to find out.

shifting your hips, you move to swipe his cock through your slick pussy, a smug look on your face when he sharply inhales. "i'm gettin' my revenge, pretty boy, for all the sleep you made me lose. 's late, anyways, yeah? don't we need to sleep soon?"

the head of his cock catches onto your entrance, causing you both to sigh in pleasure. this would be a stretch, but you're determined by pure spite from toji and those women keeping you up at night.

while you're teasing him, toji is a breath away from losing his mind. the sight of you taking charge, hair completely fluffy now from the humidity in the room, has his cock pulsing in your soft hand. he's so sure that you're not gonna be able to take it all in. shit, he's wondering if he should stop you, tell you he's gotta prep you first or else it's gonna hurt, but you use your free hand to grab his face, making him look at you as an evil grin breaks out on your face.

"i'm gonna put you t' sleep with my pussy. uhm, something something, call that pussy nyquil," you giggle, slipping the tip of his cock inside of your wet, tight little cunt.

melting, that's the best way toji can describe the feeling of behind inside you, even if it's just the tip. "jesus," he hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips. you're so hot inside, your tight walls are so snug around him. there's no way this tight cunt of yours is gonna be able to fit him in, there's not fucking way.

despite that, he finds himself guiding you down onto him, trying his hardest not to buck up into you. but the sensation of your soft, gummy walls squeezing him so perfectly is making it so challenging to stay still.

"fuck, mama...shit," he groans, watching as he is sucked into your warm pussy. once you get halfway, he expects you to stop, and that's usually where they all do. he was fine with that, more than fine, because he's never been inside someone so fucking tight.

but then, you raise your hips until just the tip is inside, and with a devious little giggle, you slam your hips down, gasping when you get him in all the way. damn, you realize it was a stupid idea, the stretch making you feel almost sick, but the reaction you get out of toji is worth it.

his head falls back against the headboard, and he whimpers, eyes rolling back into his skull, his lip pulled between his teeth as he tries to relearn how to think.

“i'm gonna make you cum and ‘m gonna fuck you stupid for not letting me sleep, fushiguro.” giving yourself a bit to get used to his size, you slowly started moving, seeing what angle worked best for you.

meg the stallion, i'm gonna make you proud of me, you think with a little smirk before you steady yourself with your hands on his chest and start to bounce your hips, your cute little threat only making his cock throb inside you.

"'m gonna make you regret bein' an asshole to your pretty roommate, pretty boy."

it doesn't take long for it to get messy, for it to get so fucking sloppy and noisy. each time you bring your hips down, the room is filled with a wet smack. you've really made a mess out of him, your sticky wet coating his fat cock and his lap, thick strands of it connecting you to him with each raise of your hips before you bring them right back down.

toji can't breathe, finally tilting his head back up as his eyes are glued to where his cock slips in and out of you. you're taking him, taking all of him into your sticky cunt and, shit, he thinks he might die like this.

"fuck, fuck, mama, c'mon, don' do this t' me, relax, please, fuckin' strangling my cock, oh my god—"

he's whining, it's so cute. who knew you could get toji fushiguro, mr. tough guy, to crumble under you like this so easily? it's so wet and gushy, the sound of your thick body smacking back down on his only making his insides twist in pleasure. he can feel how fucking wet you are, dripping down his cock, down his balls, it's so unfair.

"tojiii, talk t' me," you coo at him, your sweet voice bringing him back. "don't tell me my pussy's making you dumb already, jus' started."

you did, you're literally fucking him dumb, and he doesn't know what to do or what to say, but hearing you say his name like that in-between moans as you bounce your hips up and down his throbbing shaft has his babbling in an instant.

"god, this cunt 's perfect, baby, s' fucking perfect."

“yeah? y’like my pussy, toj? like my pretty cunt creaming on you?” you roll your hips, a pretty moan leaving you when his tip nudges against that soft spot perfectly. “f-fuck, you really are big...poor thing, no one could get it in all the way? am, mh, am i the first t’ take this fat cock t’ the hilt, tojibaby?”

you lean forward, hands moving from his chest to around his neck as you roll your hips, swiveling them in ways that have him gushing precum all over the insides of your cunt. the squelches your cunt makes with each roll is so fucking sinful and so nasty.

"y-yeah, mama, she feels s' good around me, all tight and warm, milking my cock like it's made just for you."

god, you smell so good...he can still smell your perfume and the sweet blueberry scent of your leave-in. you smell so sweet and taste so sweet too, he's so fucking lucky to have you fucking him like this. toji's hands move from your hips to your ass, helping you fuck yourself on his dick, groaning your name.

"god, you're the first to take it all, y'got me so fucking deep in that sloppy lil' cunt that y'can feel me in your stomach."

you giggle between moans, pressing your forehead against his. "y'so cute, toji, such a good boy f' me, yeah? feels so much better knowin' you can just tell me if you need me to put you to sleep, right?"

he groans, nodding as his eyes flutter closed again. "y-yeah, yes, baby, feels s' much better," he admits, breathless as he starts to get close. he can feel you getting tighter, getting wetter, and he'll be damned if he cums before you do.

"aww, listen t' you," you say with a little whine, your dominant mask starting to ebb away as you start to grow weaker and weaker. it's starting to feel good, really good, to the point where you can't think either, and you don't know how much more of this you can do. "m-my pretty boy, my good boy, f-fuckin' me s...s-so good..."

the moment he picks up the whininess in your voice, toji is alert, looking into your eyes to find that the pleasure is finally catching up to you, too. "yeah? yeah, mama? she's feelin' good? fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' fill you up, baby, gotta cream this pretty pussy so deep that she feels it f' days," he grunts, mouth open as he pants against your lips.

they look so pretty, he wonders if you taste like that lip balm you always carry, if your tongue is as sweet as you are, if your plump lips are as soft as they look. the thought of them pressing against his is what breaks him, and he's so embarrassed at the noise he makes before leaning back against the pillows and planting his feet into the mattress.

"i gotta fuck you, gotta fuck you good, 'm sorry, 'm so sorry, baby, promise i'll let you sleep, promise i'll be good for ya, okay? mm, fuck, c'mon, let toji make it better, gonna kiss your cunt with my cock and make it up t' ya."

toji fucks into your hole desperately, groaning at the loud wet plaps of his hips smacking against yours. your moans, god, your moans, they're so pretty, you're so pretty. he can see your tits bouncing against the fabric of the shirt you have on, and he curses, so fucking mad he didn't have you take it off. but he doesn't care, not right now, not when he sees how gorgeous you look.

he's so fucking prideful when he sees how poofed out your hair is, bouncing with each thrust up into you. "y're so fucking pretty, c'mere."

one of his hands grabs you by the back of the head and smushes his lips against yours, hungry as he licks over them before shoving his stupidly thick tongue inside your mouth. the kiss is just as messy as the rest of you, and the pitiful little moan you give has him reeling.

"i-i'm, 'm gonna cum, toj," you whisper against his mouth, nails biting into his shoulders as you do your best to match his pace. you're gonna cum, he's gonna make you cum, you're about to cum all over his fucking dick, jesus christ.

"fuck, you're so hot, so cute, mama, my pretty girl. need ya t' cum, dolly, can y'do that for me? please, baby, cum on me, make a mess s' i can fill you up an' apologize like i promised," he rambles before kissing you again, biting your lip before running his tongue over it.

it's so close, you can taste it. it's so unfair how big his cock is, how you can feel every vein and throb of it inside of you, how you can feel his hot precum smudging all over your velvety walls.

the realization that he's inside you raw has you moaning so sweetly, and your pussy is gripping him for dear life as you dig your nails into his shoulders even more, head falling forward. "t-toji, 'm, 'm gonna—f-fuck!"

you're cumming, you're cumming on him, and it feels so fucking good. you're creaming all over his lap, and your crying and moaning his name so sweetly he feels like he's gonna pass out. "baby, babyyy, no, lemme see, lemme see you cum," he begs, the hand in your hair tilting your head back up and the view he gets has his hips stuttering inside you.

your eyes are unfocused, long lashes wet from tears as you pant and whimper for him, all for him. and when you make eye contact with him, he feels your gummy walls squeeze him so tight.

"oh, fuck, yes, mama, jus' like that. keep cummin' on me, keep goin', 'm so close, gonna cum, gonna cum in this pretty pussy s' fuckin' deep you feel it in your tummy," toji babbles before he's losing himself too, pressing your head against his chest as he fucks into you, savoring your overstimulated cries for him. "'s gonna go deep, so fuckin' deep an' i'm gonna fuckin' eat it outta you, just like y-you fuckin' deserve—!"

with a pathetic sounding groan of your name, he's giving one, two, three, four hard, deep thrusts, moaning as he pumps his thick load into you, feeling your oversensitive pussy milking him dry. "g-good boy, g'fucking boy, tojiii," you whimper, moving from his chest to pepper kisses all over his face, moaning softly as you feel his hot cum coating your walls.

his mind is so blissfully blank that he doesn't even realize he's shaking a little bit from how hard he just came. cooing happily at him, you cup his cheeks, trying to bring him back down to you. "come back t' me tojiiii, don't die on me, roomie!"

still reeling from his insanely intense orgasm, manages a little chuckle, his hand moving from your ass to under your shirt, stroking your back. "'m here, 'm here, promise...i just...shit. ya fuckin' drained me, girly. what the hell are you?"

you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth before nestling under his chin to catch your breath. "I'm your damn friend who happens to be the roommate you have been tormenting by not letting me sleep, dumbass."

"heh. fair point."

you both stay like this for a bit, just resting a little and trying to catch your breath. except...toji's eyes feel a little heavy, and he feels himself drifting away. "there you goooo," you coo, hand running through his hair. "told ya i'd put you to sleep."

"yeah, yeah, you were right," he grumbles and opens an eye, hand coming up to pinch your cheek. "jus' a lil' nap, okay? we still gotta get you cleaned up. after all, i promised i'd clean my cum outta ya, right?"

"my god, toji, you are nasty."

"but you like ittttt."

you couldn't stop yourself from laughing because, yes, you did. you liked it a lot.

soon, the room falls quiet as toji's breathing falls into rhythm with yours, the rise and fall of his chest steady and slow. his mind is still a bit dazed, and he can't help but get a little flustered as he realizes how badly he's wrapped around your little finger. the thought is only further confirmed when he feels his heart squeeze just a bit when he notices you fell asleep on his chest.

he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, huffing to himself. yeah, so what he was whipped, he finally got you in his arms, so he sees it as a win.

as sleep finally starts to creep up on him, he presses a little kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the pillows and shutting his eyes. just a little nap, and then he'll get you cleaned up and make sure you accept his apology for everything he's put you through.

...he just hopes you won't be too grumpy when you realize you fell asleep without your bonnet on.

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ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff

[areyouwell]

Thanatophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of losing somebody you love. Children or adults with this condition tend to steer clear of any form of relationship, haunted by the possibility it could be ripped away from them.

Ch.6

Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Paring: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content, brief description of rape, extremely fucked up timelines cuz i can't do maths but just like, go with it? for me? pls?

Word Count: 13k

A/N: whew boy was this chapter tricky. not to go into too much detail about my personal life but i actually managed to trigger myself writing this so please please please be aware that this could be difficult to read if you're an SA/Rape survivor cuz yeesh... was this tough

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik

Settling into your new life hadn’t been as difficult as you’d thought. Perhaps it was because you’d spent the last two years away, but you didn’t miss the mansion as much as you thought you would. Sure, you missed Kitty randomly barging into your room, and you sincerely hoped someone had explained to her at least some of what was going on, but the feeling faded fairly quickly within the first few weeks. You and Logan fell into routine domesticity a little too easily. He taught the correct way to aim a hunting rifle, nestling the butt of the gun into the nook between your shoulder and chest. He taught you how to follow deer tracks, what to look out for when estimating how far away the game is, and which tracks not to follow under any circumstances.

You, on the other hand, started teaching him a passion you’d forgotten you’d had until you found yourself with too much time on your hands. Or at least, a passion you’d forgotten was planted in your memory… was it your passion, or just a passion you thought was yours? Every time thoughts such as these rose to the forefront of your mind, you tried to push them away. They never yielded any answers and just served to send you spirally. Logan usually caught your faraway stares, the way your eyes glazed over as you dissociated back into your mind. He’d bring you back with a gentle call of your name, hands tilting your chin up to look into his eyes. 

The first time you’d slid your sketchbook across the dining room table, Logan’s eyes welled up slightly. Sure, he’d stolen glances at you whilst you huddled on the window seat bench, charcoal staining your fingertips black as you elegantly swiped it across the paper, but he had no idea you were sketching him. When you’d asked him what he thought, he couldn’t find the right words and ended up with you perched on the kitchen counter, his head between your thighs, pouring his awestruck gratitude into eating you out. Since then, you both took time out of your days to sit with each other and you taught him everything you knew. As it turned out, he wasn’t half bad. At least, that’s what you exclaimed with a slightly insulting amount of surprise in your voice. He’d always brush off your praise, comparing his work to yours, but he couldn’t deny the pride that bloomed in his chest.

Logan had learnt not to ask after your well-being too often, finding that you would huff in irritation if he mentioned it more than once a day and remind him that you weren’t that mentally unstable. After a month of settling in, you’d mutually decided to start training again, heading out into the woods a little ways and finding a safe, exclusive spot on the lake shore. Plenty of shadows around between the tree line and the water, it was perfect. Though, not that it made much of a difference. The progress you made was second to none, barely managing to make the darkness shift a fraction before you’d grit your teeth and attempt to stamp down your frustration. 

The days grew colder as the months went by, leaves fading from lush, vibrant greens to crinkled, burning oranges before dropping altogether, coating the ground in a blanket of crunchy fire. It was your favourite season, autumn. The sweet scent of mulch wreathed your senses with every kick of the chilly breeze as you stepped from the warm cabin thankful you’d donned a knitted scarf around your neck, two mugs clasped in your hands. Amongst the many other things Logan had taught you, how to make the best cups of hot chocolate may be, in your opinion, the most useful. Small marshmallows melted atop the surface of the drink as your boots crunched along the gravel, eyes drinking in the sight before you.

He was made for this life. Leather jacket discarded atop a stack of logs, he’d rolled the sleeves of his brown flannel shirt up to his elbows, the hood of the truck propped open and his head ducked far into the depths of the engine. You mentioned you thought the spark plugs were going a few days ago, but he brushed off your concerns. It wasn’t until he’d received a call from the local garage about a bike part he’d requested and he went to leave that morning did he realise you were right after the truck misfired almost instantly. You tried not to be too smug about it.

“How’s it going?” Logan looked back as he heard your voice and approaching footsteps, withdrawing from the depths of the hood and swiping his hands on the dirty rag over his shoulder. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he saw what you were carrying, and he thanked you with a quick kiss, taking the mug you’d offered to him. 

“Well. you were right,” you pursed your lips as you tried not to smirk wildly, failing miserably when he rolled his eyes. “Yeah alright. ‘Scuze me for asusmin’ you didn’t know what you were talkin’ about. Anyway,” he continued pointedly and you giggled lightly. “Todd rang, he’s on his way with a few replacement plugs, since the damn thing won’t even start now. The good news is, he’s bringing the bike part with him, so we could get that goin’ this afternoon.” He raised the marshmallowy mug to his lips, humming pleasantly as he tasted his own hot chocolate recipe you’d followed. 

Your eyes lit up at his words. He’d been working on the bike hidden in the small barn since you’d arrived here six months ago, making its restoration his little personal project. He’d spoken to Todd before about acquiring replacement parts and had slowly been fixing up the motorcycle with each trip to the garage. All he needed now was the replacement brake calliper and it would be good to go. “I would have made a third mug if I knew Todd was coming round. That’s amazing though, crazy to think it’s taken this long.” You cradled the steaming mug with both hands, blowing slightly on the warm liquid before taking a long sip, licking at the remains left on your upper lip.

“I know right?” he agreed, tucking you against his side with an arm around your shoulders. “Startin’ to think I should have asked you for help since you can recognise a blown spark plug from a single misfire,” you snorted a laugh into your drink.

“Yeah well, in my completely fabricated past, I trained as a mechanic for a bit so I know a thing or two.”

“You’re only tellin’ me this now?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time!” You held your hands up in defence, your fingers still hooked around the handle of your warm mug. Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame his disobedient smile. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, ya know that?” He set his half-full mug next to his jacket on the stack of logs, taking yours and setting it down as well all so he could pick you up in his arms, your legs instantly circling around his waist, his hands settling on your thighs. Your fingers threaded through the soft strands at the back of his head as you looked down at him, your eyes dancing with mischief.

“Me? Little ol’ me? I’m heartbroken,” nothing about your current body language suggested anything of the sort, your faux innocence only serving to confirm his suspicions. 

“Bet it’s just eatin’ you up inside, huh?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone and you threw your head back as you laughed, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck before you looked back down at him, wasting no time in taking his lips captive with your own, giggling into the kiss when he bit gently on the soft flesh of your upper lip. You inhaled a sharp gasp through your nose when he smoothed over the small hurt with his tongue, feeling your core respond to his actions, your blood heating with every languid brush of his lips against yours, every slight nibble of his teeth.

Logan groaned softly at the scent of your arousal building, his skin tingling as you returned every nip of his teeth with one of your own, sandwiching his lower lip between your front teeth and tugging slightly. Your hands returned to his hair, twirling the longer strands between your fingers and pulling tight. Todd’s imminent arrival forgotten, Logan swiped at the hood prop, slamming the lid shut and setting your down so his hands could roam up your waist to your breasts, kneading and groping at your tits over your hoodie. 

His lips dragged a trail of soft bites down the side of your neck, his fingers deftly popping open the button of your jeans and pulling down your zipper, his entire hand disappearing down between your damp thighs, his fingertips grazing across the centre of your slick core over your underwear. He growled in response to your whimper, tugging the crotch of your briefs to one side and sliding the back of his finger up over your clit. 

“So wet for me, what got you goin’, hm? ‘S it that book? Did they finally fuck? Make you miss me, hm?” He’d caught glances of you in the window, lip caught between your teeth as you devoured the pages in front of you, your legs crossed tightly. He’d laughed to himself at the time, but now he wanted to show you what the real world could offer. 

You went to bite back at his condescending tone, opening your mouth only to inhale an embarrassing gasp as one of his thick fingers slid inside you, pumping and curling in the ways he knew would have you creaming in minutes. Your nails sank into his forearm, mouth dropping open as hot pleasure coursed through your veins. Humiliatingly enough, it was exactly why you’d come out to see him. The two characters in the book you were reading finally put aside their differences and realised they loved each other in a passionate display of tender fucking. And yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of Logan at the time. But this wasn’t what you were expecting at all.”

“Logan!” you cried out to the blue skies as your head fell back the moment a second finger slipped inside your aching heat, your walls clamping down against his digits as if he would ever try to escape. With his one free hand, Logan dragged your jeans and underwear down just far enough to slip beneath them between your legs, keeping your knees over his shoulder as he pushed you back against the windshield. You clutched at the wipers as he rubbed his nose against your clit, moaning wantonly at the scent of your liquid nectar. 

His tongue darted out to swipe a long line up the centre of your core, using his fingers to provoke more of your slick to drip down the apex of your thighs for him to drink like a man parched of water. Your hips bucked with each stroke of his tongue, gasping a pitched whimper of his name as his lips wrapped around your sensitive pearl and sucked until you screamed at the heavens above you, your orgasm splitting every nerve in your body with each slow caress of his fingertips against that delicious bundle of nerves nestled two knuckles inside you. 

Your nails scratched against the hood of the truck, flaking off the paint job as wave after wave of your high crashed through your mind and body, your spine arching your hips further against his face as you ground against his tongue before the pleasure spiked into overstimulation and you squirmed away from his fingers, panting desperately. 

“That’s my girl, y’allright?” he soothed, pressing soft kisses to the scar on your inner thigh, cringing in second-hand pain as the back of your head smacked the windscreen behind you, your tensed, shaking muscles finally relaxing. “Y’okay!?”

You giggled, still a little dazed from your orgasm, your hand lazily feeling the slight numbness at the back of your head, simply making sure you hadn’t cracked it open, or at the very least, split the skin. But you felt no blood. “Yeah, ‘m all good. But if you don’t fuck me on the hood of this truck I might pass away– whaaat’re you doing?” You asked as he ducked out from between your legs, pulling your underwear and trousers back up over your knees and to your waist.

“I’ll start makin’ funeral arrangements then. Todd’s here.” You didn’t miss his growl of discomfort, and your heart bled for him a little, knowing he was going to have to go the next god knows how long hard as a rock in his jeans. Pulling up the zipper and fastening the button at your navel, you hopped off the truck just as Todd’s beaten old 4x4 trundled through the tree line. He was one of the only people who knew you were even here, apparently, he was a friend of the previous owner and knew Logan fairly well. The two hadn’t kept in touch, but he’d given him a firm handshake when he first took the pickup truck to his garage.

Retrieving the two mugs of now slightly cooled chocolate, Logan smiled gratefully as he once again took the mug from you, placing a kiss to your brow as he held up an arm of greeting to Todd. The older man stepped from the car, slamming the door shut, a ziplock bag of spark plugs grasped in his broad hand. He had a thick, greying beard bushing proudly along his chin and jaw, bridging across his upper lip. A full head of salt and pepper hair slicked back from his brow, tied into a small bun at the back of his head. You couldn’t deny that he most definitely would have been a lady's man back in his prime, with deep-set blue eyes and a smile crisp as winter frost? You could definitely have seen yourself falling for his charms.

It seemed you had a thing for bearded men. And Logan also seemed to have noticed. He raised a brow as he looked at you out of his peripheral. “Stop eyeing up my mechanic.” He elbowed you lightly and you snorted a laugh.

“Not my fault,” your tone was hushed as you watched Todd head into the backseat of his car, retrieving the new brake calliper for Logan’s bike. “Clearly I like older men.” You sent him a wink and he rolled his eyes, smirking against his better judgement. 

“What’ve you done to ‘er then? And I don’t mean to yer girl ‘ere.” Todd strode over with the self-assurance of a gold medal athlete, a winning smile parting his bearded lips to reveal bright white teeth. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, stepping forward to embrace the man who planted a kiss on your cheek. “Hello, gorgeous. He lookin’ after ya properly?” His faux seriousness had you casting a cheeky glance back at Logan, who narrowed his eyes in response. 

“He’s doing his best.” You whispered loudly behind your hand, and Todd nodded in an exaggerated display of understanding. 

“I’ll ‘ave a word with ‘im, don’t you worry.” He winked at you and you placed your hand against your heart dramatically, pretending to faint as Todd turned from you to Logan, who folded his arms across his chest with a thick brow raised. But he couldn’t keep up his irritated façade for long. It was a tradition ever since the two of you started visiting the garage frequently for Logan’s bike. Todd would flirt with you relentlessly, Logan would pretend to get irate about it for all of thirty seconds before breaking into a wide grin and firmly clasping the man in an embrace. And this time was no different, a solid clap to Todd’s back was all that was needed for you to know this wasn’t the time the men fought it out. The first time you’d visited, you genuinely thought Logan was going to slice his head clean off the second Todd looked your way. But he just stood back with an amused, almost proud smirk as you were flirted with relentlessly. It took you completely off guard at first, but now you were more than happy to go along with it. 

“Didn’t surprise me, it’s an old truck,” you heard Logan explain as you returned from your memories, stepping up to lean against the raised hood of the pickup, your arms crossed against your chest, gesturing to the engine with the mug in your hand.

“Think the oil needs changing too. The mileage counter was going crazy the other day and I only went out to the corner shop. I checked the oil level when I got back and nothing was wrong so I think it’s most likely carbon buildup. Like Lo’ said, it’s an old truck.” The two men stared at you in disbelief as if knowing how to check the oil on a car wasn’t something they expected from you. You flipped them both off. “Oh fuck off the pair of you, I was the one to notice the faulty spark plugs thank you very much.” You placed a defensive hand on your hip, and Todd looked from you to Logan next to him.

“That true?” he asked with a bushy brow raised. 

Logan released a long sigh, offering a low, reluctant “Yep…” 

There was a beat before Todd howled with laughter, his hand clasping Logan’s shoulder with a loud clap. “Said it before an’ I’ll say it again, you got yerself a keeper ‘ere Logan. A woman who looks this good in jeans and knows ‘er way ‘round an engine? Tie ‘er down ‘fore someone else does.” Todd sent you a wink and you blew a kiss back at him. “C’mon then, gotta fix yer bike ‘fore I tackle this hunk o’ metal. Unless missy mechanic over ‘ere would like to do the honours?” he raised a brow and you held up your hands to decline. 

“Cars I can do. Bikes are totally foreign to me, so you lead the way,” you gestured for him to head to the barn, which he did but not before offering you a chivalrous bow. You rolled your eyes as he turned away, falling into step next to Logan who slipped a hand to your waist. You elbowed him slightly. “See? I’m a keeper.” you shot him a shit-eating grin and he pursed his lips in a feeble attempt to suppress his smile.

“‘M stuck with you either way,” he shrug in mock nonchalance, and you poked his ribs.

“You like being stuck with me.”

“Shut up.” He breathed, smothering your face into the crook of his arm, muffling your maniacal cackles as the two of you followed Todd into the barn, watching as he pulled off the tarp sheltering the bike from any leaks in the roof. 

“You’ve done ‘er up somethin’ great, Logan. Lookin’ good as new.” Todd patted the back fender the same way you would a horse you were proud of. Logan just grunted in acknowledgement, being truly terrible at receiving compliments. 

“Think we can get her up and runnin’ today?” Logan asked, glancing as once again your eyes lit up. It had been since months ago since he promised to take you out on that date, and he wanted to stay true to his word. Todd nodded thoughtfully as if contemplating how realistic that was.

“We can certainly give it a go. If you an’ the missus wanna change those spark plugs I can start on replacin’ this break calliper and we can go from there.” You suppressed a grin at being referred to as Logan’s ‘missus’, a giddy spark pepped up your step as Todd tossed the ziplock bag to Logan who caught it in one hand. 

“Sounds good. Absolutely no way I’m leavin’ you two alone together.” You snorted a laugh at Logan’s slight grumble, sending Todd a flirtatious wave as he steered you back out of the barn and towards the pickup. “Unbelievable…” he shook his head fondly as you all but skipped over to the hood of the car, removing what Logan only now realised was his jacket and rolling up the shirt sleeves of his flannel. Not that he was about to complain, but he must have been too caught up in your cunt earlier to notice.

Leaning into the hood of the truck, you peered around the side of the engine, finding the six plugs you needed to change. With deft fingertips you twisted the wire boot of the first plug instead of just yanking it free, a trick you’d picked up when you’d…

Oh yeah. That never happened. A trick they’d planted in your brain, you guessed. You extended a hand out behind you, barely needing to open your mouth before the socket spanner was placed firmly in your grasp. You looked over your shoulder at Logan who’d returned to leaning against the large pile of wood to his right, smirking shamelessly at your ass as you bent over the engine. You grinned, making a show of rolling your eyes, before returning back to the task at hand, unscrewing the first spark plug from the well. Discarding the old part to the floor, you accumulated a small pile of six faulty plugs when you’d removed them all.

Stepping back from inside the hood, you wiped a small bead of sweat from your brow with your oil-slicked hand, leaving a dark smudge just above your eyebrow. Logan handed you the ziplock bag, his smirk ceaseless. “I ain’t gonna pretend this isn’t the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” He shrugged when you sent him a questioning look before bubbles of laughter rose from your chest.

“Now look who’s the freak.” You shot back with an equally wicked smirk, before eyeing up the toolbox to his left. “You got a torque wrench in there? Todd might have one actually–”

“Todd is not seein’ you like this, he’ll lose his damn mind. The man already worships the ground at your feet.” Logan rifled quickly through the toolbox as if speed would prevent you from heading back up to the barn and giving the poor mechanic a love-induced heart attack. 

“And why shouldn’t he? I’m a keeper, dontcha know?” You responded haughtily, raising your chin with a dignity you couldn’t possibly hope to possess with your face smudged with engine oil. Logan barked a laugh, tossing you the torque wrench from the box and watching as you returned to your mission, fitting the new plugs in the wells and using the torque when you couldn’t tighten the screw any further with your fingers.

Logan slotted his hands in the dip of your waist, his front pressed against your back as he bent over you, teeth catching the sensitive skin behind your ear. “You’re a keeper, sweetheart. And you’re mine.” his breath fanned your ear as he growled lowly, the outline of his hard cock grinding against the seam of your ass as his hands pulled you against him slightly. 

You gasped airily, teeth clamping down on your lower lip. “You been hard this whole time?” You asked, struggling to focus on fitting the remaining plugs as he trailed one of his hands down your front and between your thighs. He just released a gravelly moan in response as you pushed back into his crotch, moving your hips in a slow circle. Logan bucked with a sharp gasp, nipping at your earlobe. 

“Not my fault. I got this gorgeous new mechanic. She’s hot as fuck and you wanna know the best thing about her?” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as he rubbed your clit over your jeans, eyes fluttering closed as a smile split your mouth.

“What would that be?”

Logan inhaled your scent, a mixture of engine oil, wood smoke and sweet arousal, his fingers tightening on your waist. “She lets me do whatever I want to her after she changes my spark plugs.” It was a blackened promise filled with swirling lust, sucking the vow of pleasure into a bruise on the side of your neck before withdrawing completely to lean back against the stack of firewood, giving the both of you room to catch your breath.

You had to shake your head of the daze he’d left you in before you could continue, agile fingers reconnecting the ignition leads before you stepped away from the hood completely, swiping at your cheek with your forefinger and leaving yet another dark, greasy smudge. 

“The oil still needs changing but at least we won’t be getting anymore misfires. At least, we shouldn’t.” You wiped your hands on the dirty rag still draped over his shoulder and he licked his thumb, rubbing at the dark smudge above your brow but to now avail. You waved him off, ducking out from his fussing with a look of irritation. “Alright, Dad, I’ll clean myself up later, Christ.” You folded your arms across your chest, before remembering exactly why he wanted to get rid of the smudges, and snorting a laugh. 

“His blood is on your hands if he keels over at the sight of you.” Logan shrugged just as Todd emerged from the barn, wheeling the good-as-new bike along with him.

“A’ight Logan, she should be all ready for ya. Though I’d take ‘er steady to start, I don’t–” The man stopped the second his eyes shifted to you, and he clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh my lord this is it, I’ve seen the light! An angel! Here! Standin’ before me!” He sank to his knees and you chuckled madly, Logan shaking his head in disappointment. “Oh, nope, beggin’ yer pardon. It’s just yer girl.” Todd stood, dusting off his knees and sending you yet another wink, clearly having heard Logan’s comment. “Well, that’s me all finished up then. Comes to around fifty dollars.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance of knowing. You were both well aware Todd had been giving you both discounted prices. Hell, just getting the spark plugs replaced was around eighty, and he was only charging you fifty for both the plugs and the brake calliper? You and Logan had prepared for this moment. He gave you a subtle nod, and you pranced forward, hooking your arm around Todd’s shoulders. A perfect distraction. Logan stepped up behind the two of you silently, slipping the extra hundred-and-twenty into Todd’s pocket, listening to you ask about the difference in performance between the firing cylinders on a V6 and a V8 engine and not really listening to the answer. 

“Well, I think that’s everything, right Lo’?” You asked and he confirmed with a brief nod as you pat Todd’s shoulder once, letting Logan take the lead and make a show out of counting out fifty dollars from his wallet. You left them to it, folding away the prop for the truck hood and slamming it shut, giving the side a gentle pat. The pickup really had served you well for the last six months, and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to either consider getting a replacement car. You’d grown kind of attached to it, developing a taste for the more rugged things in life. 

You couldn’t help but look over at Logan alongside the thought. Rugged things indeed. You leaned against the car door as the two men made their way back over to you, and your ears picked up on their ongoing conversation as Logan stopped by your side. 

“She’s a gem, Logan. Fuck knows how yer ugly mug managed to bag ‘er, but you look after ‘er, ya hear me?” Todd jammed a finger towards his aforementioned ‘ugly mug’  in an empty threat.

“Loud ‘n clear, Todd.” He sent the man a false salute, settling an arm around your shoulder and you instantly leaned into his side. Todd took both your hands in his own and Logan fought the urge to laugh. 

“An’ if this one ever pisses y’off, you know where t’ find me.” He grinned and you chuckled heartily.

“You’ll be the first one to know.” You responded with such conviction Logan had to double take, though your partially imperceptible smile eluded to your sarcasm. You were incredibly good at that. At saying the very thing people wanted to hear. You were also incredibly good at saying the opposite of what people wanted to hear, one too many bar fights started because some handsy asshole decided you were a prime target. If it didn’t piss him off so much, he’d sit back and watch as you both verbally and occasionally physically beat a motherfucker down.

But unfortunately, handsy motherfuckers at bars did piss him off. Monumentally. And though he rarely threw the first punch, he would always throw the second. You didn’t need defending. He knew that. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you both soon then. Best’ve luck with the bike, and my door’s always open for the both of yous, whatever ya need.” He nodded as you both waved him goodbye, standing in the driveway until he disappeared down the track and past the treeline. You hummed a contented smile.

“You’re gonna get a really angry text later, you know that. How much did you slip him?” You asked, stretching your arms high above your head and checking Logan’s watch on his wrist. The time had just gone midday, the sun still casting speckled shadows through the canopy. 

“One-twenty. Brake callipers aren’t particularly cheap.” He admired the way your arms flexed as you stretched, that bruise he’d sucked into your neck blossoming a dark purple. He needed to control himself if he wanted to make good on his promise to you six months ago. “Fancy a drive?”

You spun round to him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll get my boots!”

Biting wind whipped your unbound hair, exhilaration flooding your system as you clung to Logan’s leather jacket, your cheek resting against his spine. True to his word, he’d taken you out for the day on the back of the bike, finding a secluded, forested cliffside for the two of you to perch on. It wasn’t quite the lakeside romance he’d planned for you before, but it still worked to perfection, watching the clouds pass by overhead, the view a palette of every shade of red, orange and yellow, trees igniting as the sun began to sink low in the sky, faded the bright blue to a softer pale pink as the daylight descended into twilight. 

His hand secured your arm around his middle, caressing the sleeve of your jacket with his thumb with soothing swipes. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan smiled to himself as you nestled closer into his back, your arms tightening around his waist. One of your hands spread up his chest and over his heart, something he’d noticed you started doing absently, subconsciously. His soul sang along with the warmth you brought.

“Y’okay back there?” he called over his shoulder, returning to face the road. He felt you shift in what he could discern was a nod of your head, patting his abs twice.

“Perfect!” he caught your response over the roar of the engine and the whistle of the wind in his ears. Though you sounded alright, something had been off about you. You covered it well, playing around with Todd, nestling into his embrace as you watched the setting sun, but Logan had been seeing that faraway look on your face more often recently. 

It started around a week ago when you were looking for a new book to read after finishing your old one. You were sifting through the bookcase, carefully removing old sketchbooks the two of you had filled and grainy photographs taken on a digital camera when Logan heard you stop abruptly. He’d been oiling a baking dish when eerie silence greeted his ears, and by the time you returned back down the stairs, that vacant look had returned to your eye, the shitty romance novel clutched in your hands.

He’d asked if you were alright, but you waved off his concern with a huffed laugh of dismissal. Though Logan could see it, he didn’t press you. You’d talk about it when you were ready. You always did. 

Turning off the tarmac and down the track to the cabin, Logan took your hand over his heart in his own and dipped down to press a kiss to the top of your knuckles. He was rewarded with a squeeze of your fingers, kicking down the footstand as he parked up next to the truck. He couldn’t smell any rain on the air tonight, so he was happy to leave the bike out and just cover it with the tarp from the barn. 

Swinging your leg over the back of the bike, you cupped the side of his furry jaw, stooping to mould your lips to his grateful kiss, your warm smile infectious. Logan sighed into your mouth, his hands tugging you closer by the waist until you stood between his knee and the bike. His palm moved to the back of your thigh as you swiped your tongue along the seam of his parted lips, your taste sweet honey on his tongue whilst he pulled you onto his lap, two steadying hands braced on the dips of your waist.

“‘M gonna fuck you on this bike… wanted to do it since I first saw the thing,” you breathed against his cheek before dipping below his jaw, suckling little nibbles against his skin. Logan groaned lowly. You’d been teasing him all damn day,  from the way he ate you out that morning to the way he ground against your ass when you were changing the spark plugs. His cock twitched as he let himself hope he would finally find the relief he needed deep within your cunt. 

You rolled your hips against his growing erection as he sat more deeply in the saddle, your legs perched daintily on the foot pegs on either side of his calves. Nimble fingers fiddled with the front of his thick belt, unlacing the buckle from the loop and pulling the two halves aside. Logan growled at your urgency, appreciating the swift tug of his zipper, your fingertips ghosting along the waistband of his briefs, causing his skin to prickle in anticipation. Scratching through the happy trail leading down beneath the elastic, you bit down into his throat, drawing a gasp from his chest. 

He could do nothing but hold you tight as your hand finally sank beneath his briefs, curious fingers circling around the shaft of his cock and tightening your grip. His eyes screwed shut when you circled his sensitive tip with your thumb, his mouth falling open with heavy pants, his hips bucking up into your soft palm. Your nails clawed against the nape of his neck as he pushed you from his throat, turning the tide and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh behind your ear, licking and biting at the same bruise he’d left there earlier. You whimpered against him, and the scent of your arousal teased his nose. 

You tugged his hard cock from his briefs, shoving the fabric down as far ar you could. Logan shivered slightly, the cold air caressing his raging length as you released him to fiddle with the buttons and zipper of your jeans. 

Too long. It would take too long. Logan needed to be inside you yesterday. With a heated hiss, he slid his middle claw from his knuckle, using his other hand to grip both your wrists. “Stay still…” he murmured, bracing the tip of his claw over the clothed apex of your thighs. You gasped, promptly sandwiching your lower lip between your teeth when the ripping of fabric caused your gut to churn. Logan’s nose twitched as your quaking cunt gushed to soak the crotch of your underwear, and you both looked down, equally as surprised at your reaction. 

“Yeah?” he queried with a raised brow, ever-so-softly dragging his claw down the inside of your thigh. You pitched an airy whine, tugging tightly at the hair on the back of his head. To see you like this, gaping and breathless because of his claws did something wicked to him. Instruments that had previously only been used for death had suddenly become something so much more, gifting you with sharp peaks of pleasure when he dragged the back of it over your throbbing clit. 

You nodded desperately, breathing hard through your nose when he hooked that same sharp claw around the waistband of your underwear, slicing clean through the fabric and exposing your pulsing cunt. “Fuck…” you breathed as he retracted the silver claw, giggling slightly when he lifted you against him, pausing to tease your dripping entrance with the head of his cock. 

“‘course you get off on knives…” he muttered, smirking wildly as you attempted to sink onto his cock, using your weight to push down on the hands holding you aloft. You groaned in frustration, dragging a wicked chuckle from his throat, before he slowly pulled you down, humming a low moan as your tight walls welcomed his thick shaft. 

“Should… should do that again… sometime.” You panted into his mouth, barely able to form your words as you slowly roll your hips against him, earning yourself a gravelly grunt along with your movements. “So fucking hot.” You gasped as he thrust up into you, using the bike’s suspension to bounce you slightly as you clung to him, your fingers buried in his hair.

Logan looked down to where he rhythmically disappeared up into you, his breath hitching as you took one of his hands from around your waist and pressed your fingers into his knuckles, right where the slight hurt of his claw healed over. His cock twitched as you massaged his knuckles gently, finding just the right spot between each bone where his claws usually split. He couldn’t help the way his jaw fell open, his eyes rolling when you lifted his hand to your mouth and tongued one of the three surprisingly sensitive skin. 

“Fuck… Fuck! D’do that again…” Logan fucking stuttered as you repeated the motion with your tongue the very same way he would when he ate you out. Pleasure surged through his veins at the newfound discovery of the erogenous zone, thrusting up into you deliciously and causing you to bite down at the bone of his knuckle as the tip of his cock brushed against that patch of ecstasy inside you. 

You held his gaze as you made a show of dipping your tongue in the slits between his knuckles, closing your lips around the skin and sucking the same way you would against his cock. Logan furiously drove into you, still holding your waist with his one hand whilst you lavished the other. Eight months he’d been seeing you, and not once in that entire time had he ever come before you with his cock inside you, always taking extra care to make sure you hit your high at least once before he found his own. But with the liquid heat pulsing in his veins, he didn’t know if he could last.

He was thankful when your other hand left his wrist, skirting down beneath the waistband of your torn jeans to play with your own clit, throwing your head to the sky as the building pleasure wracked your body, only to bring his knuckles back to your lips. 

Your walls clenched tightly around his thrusting cock, deft fingers toying with your own pearl when your thighs started to shake, your whimpers and moans climbing in pitch, the vibrations of your voice tingling against the skin of his hand. 

Logan felt his own high cresting, his back tensing as his balls drew up, trying in vain to hold your failing gaze. Watching your eyes roll back into your skull was his undoing, feeling you coating his cock as you came around him, your teeth sinking into those little patches of pure pleasure shoving him over the edge of tension and into the honey-coated lightning storm of ecstasy. He cried your name, sharp pulses of fire shaking his system as he exploded inside you, coating your inner walls white.

Your brows pinched, mouth forming a perfect O as you struck your peak, his aphrodisiac cries of your name pulling you under as you simultaneously came with each other. You’d never felt him come so hard, and through your pleasure-addled brain, you assumed it was the result of being so pent up all day. Logan clung to you like a lifeline, nestling his face against the nook of your neck as he continued to twitch inside you, those overwhelming waves finally receding until he was basking in the full afterglow.

You panted hard, finally releasing his hand to grab at his shoulders, anchoring yourself against him to recover from just how hard your release had wrecked your body, barely able to laugh breathlessly and in utter disbelief into the little peaks of his hair. Logan grit his teeth together as you lift yourself off him to sit back on his sturdy thighs. How you managed to absolutely wreck him every goddamn time he didn’t know, but at least he’d been working on his self-control, and his claws didn’t slice your mouth open.

“That was fuckin’ dangerous…” he murmured, swiping his thumb along your lower lip. “Coulda hurt ya.” His brows pinched with genuine concern and you pressed your forefinger into the creases between them, easing his worries.

“How have we waited until now to use your claws? Such a good idea!” You were way too enthusiastic about that, and Logan simply huffed a laugh, looking up at you through dark lashes. 

“Not a good idea. Sure it was good today–”

“Logan it was fucking great today–” he clamped a hand over your mouth, silencing your protests. 

“But I can’t guarantee I’m always gonna have that kind of control. I could’ve done some real damage.” He knew reprimanding you was going to do absolutely nothing. Not when it had felt so fucking good, and you’d seen and felt what it had done to him. “Where’d you even get that idea?” He asked as you giggled a little mischievously, swinging your legs back over the bike and shimmying a little as you felt him drip from your cunt. Logan snorted as you squirmed awkwardly, tucking himself back in his briefs, not bothering to re-buckle his belt before scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal-style to the cabin.

“Just came to me in the moment. I’m sensitive around my scars, so I guess it made sense to me that you would be as well. Or rather, if scars could be left on your body.” You shrugged, your arms looping loosely around his neck, your head resting against his shoulder as you reached into his pocket for the key, inserting the metal into the lock. 

Logan nodded in understanding as if your explanation made sense. And, in a way, it did. You were sensitive around your scars. He knew that better than anyone. At any point he wanted to distract you from something, all he needed was to nip at the mark on your neck, swipe his thumb against any of the four bullet wounds on your chest, or even pinch lightly at the one on your inner thigh, and you’d throw your head back with a breathy gasp.

So it checked out that, if scars could be left on his body, he’d react similarly. Which he had done. 

You tossed the keys into the bowl on the kitchen windowsill as Logan carried you through the cabin and up the stairs. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t enjoying the treatment, and at the very least it was preventing his cum from dripping uncomfortably down your leg. 

Laying you on the bed, he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your brow, before disappearing into the ensuite. “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?”

You choked on your spit, half laughing half coughing at his question as he returned to you with a warm, damp towel clutched in his hands. “Come again?” you asked, still in recovery.

“We’ve been fucking, unprotected, for months now, and you still regularly get your period. Sure, you’re ovulating at the moment–”

“Logan!?” You gaped, kicking him lightly with the side of your foot as he cleaned you up, tossing the towel to the side and innocently dragging down your ruined jeans.

“But I’m just curious. Surely something woulda happened by now, even just a scare,” he pulled open your drawer, rummaging around until he recovered your favourite dark grey sweatpants.

“You got a point. Maybe it’s my mutation? I guess my body sorta resets itself every time I shadow walk, almost like a default state,” You shrugged, sitting up as he handed you the pair of trousers to replace the ones he’d ripped. “I guess if we wanna know then we could always just…” You trailed off and Logan turned from where he was changing his own clothes, comfy loungewear pulled up to his waist. 

Following your line of sight, Logan’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew where you were looking, and if he was being truly honest with himself, he knew what you’d found a week ago. He wasn’t blind. The first month settling into the cabin, you’d cast fleeting glances at the bookcase where the folder was nestled, and he didn’t know whether you thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. 

The months went by and you didn’t quite forget about it, but you learned to live with it. Until a week ago, when you were searching for a new book to read. Logan didn’t know if you were ready. Shit, he didn’t know if he was ready. He’d only scanned a few pages of the file and he was truly terrified of what he’d discover if he’d looked at the pages in more detail. 

His blood turned to ice as you stood, approaching the shelving as if it would lash out and bite you. Steeling your nerves, you reached behind the first layer of books, parting them slightly as you retrieved the thick folder detailing every day of your life. Every horror you endured, every agonised second. You inhaled a shaky breath, returning to the bed and setting it down. 

NLMO. Subject Eight. “Phantom”.

Logan slowly came to sit by your side, taking your hand in his own, a silent gesture to remind you he was here. You looked up from the file, uncertainty swirling in your irises.

“I have to…” you whispered, trembling slightly as you went to open the folder, only for Logan to stop you.

“No. You don’t. You’re safe here. Nothin’ can get to you, sweetheart. Only do this if you want to, not because you feel like you have to.” You squeezed his hand, gaze flickering from the sincerity in his face to the handwriting on the documents containing who you were.

“I do have to do this, but I have to do this for me. Not for anyone else. I still have so many questions, Lo’. I don’t understand why Rowan is still there and I’m here. I need to know what happened. To all of us.” You spoke with such conviction, that Logan knew you’d made up your mind. Covering your hand positioned at the corner of the folder, he nodded.

“Alright then. We do this. Together.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you whilst my heart was still beating, yeah? Do I look dead to you?” You snorted a laugh, shifting to lie on your front. Logan waited until you settled yourself before he too shuffled about, lying almost on top of you so his cheek was practically pressed against your own.

“Dead gorgeous maybe.” You grinned, and he pinched your waist, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Just open the fuckin’ folder, freak.”

You turned your attention back to your past, once again inhaling a long, shaky breath. “Ready?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. 

Logan nodded once in response. “Ready.” And the two of you turned the first page to your past.

For the some of the part, the documents within were mundane. It was incredibly creepy to start off with, knowing every moment of the life you remembered was being observed and written down, but it quickly became more of a story and less of a recounting. Logan would often crinkle his nose in confusion. “Wait, which one’s Subject Three again?” He’d ask, to which you’d respond with a sigh and a long look. “That’s Joseph, or Janus. He can teleport. Kinda like Kurt but less smoky.” And he would raise his head with understanding, before continuing to read in silence. 

You were okay for the first few pages, Ex.3 shook you up a little, reading about a memory you simply don’t have where they pushed your mutation to the limit alongside your bother. Deprivation and indulgence indeed. You took deep breaths through the surge of anxiety, Logan holding you close to him, asking softly if you needed anything. You just shook your head. You were fine. There were worse things to come. If you couldn’t handle this, how would you be okay with everything else?

The first big obstacle arose in 1944. The day was usual, you’d woken up, made breakfast with Rowa, and visited Jade, before they took you out for experimentation. It was the shift at Shots Shack. The one where you’d been flirted with all night and ended up fucking one of the customers in the bin shed.

Except, that’s not what happened at all. It was an accident. The result of a guard getting far too handsy with you. You’d fought him off as much as you could, but Subject One hadn’t restored your memories yet, so your mutation was at its baseline. You clenched your jaw as you kept reading, nausea roiling in your gut as Kreva detailed his observations, from your agonised screams for him to stop to the way you couldn’t stop shaking after he was done. You could barely stomach another sentence before a particularly vivid description of what was left behind had you detangling from Logan’s arms, racing to the bathroom and throwing up the contents of your stomach. You were kept under extreme observation after the incident. Not to make sure you were alright, but to look out for any signs of fucking pregnancy.

Logan had to suppress his burning hatred, not finding enough justice in knowing that the guard was let go from his position. He should be torn to fucking pieces for what he did. But flying off the handle wouldn’t help you. He followed you to the bathroom, gathering your hair in his hands as you convulsed over the toilet seat, the acidic stench of pure bile burning his nose. 

It was a fairly fond memory, what supposedly happened that night, only now for it to be tainted forever by the truth of what really happened. Your gasp echoed into the toilet bowl as you wretched again, your skin itching as if you hadn’t washed in days. 

“What’d you need?” Logan asked, gently scratching down your spine as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your weak response of “Shower…” Had him moving instantly, opening the window before turning the dial of the shower, letting it warm before he helped you to your feet. 

“Where d’you need me?” He asked as you swallowed hard, clinging to his arm.

“Here.” You whispered, before slowly removing your clothes. Logan helped you out of your sweater, leaving you to pull down your own sweatpants unlike what had been written in the folder, before he guided you into the steam. Stripping himself of his own clothes, Logan stepped in after you, his heart breaking in two as you instantly sought his embrace.

He held you beneath the warm water until he completely lost track of time, your face nestled beneath his chin, his thumb slowly caressing up and down your spine. Occasionally your shoulders would spasm with a stifled sob, and he’d whisper sweet nothings into the top of your head. You were safe with him. He was going to look after you. He’d never let them find you again. 

Despite having read your previous experiences, his hands on your body felt clean. Pure. Nothing about Logan was tainted in the same way that memory was. You nuzzled your nose further into the hair on his chest, feeling the aura of comfort wrap around your heart. He had you. He wasn’t letting you go. 

Promises and vows drowned by the hum of water left his lips until you took a deep breath, stepping back from his embrace and meeting his gaze with newfound determination. You were okay. You’d be okay. Reaching behind him, Logan turned the dial for the water pressure until it was off completely, barely separating far enough from you that you could wrap a fluffy, heated town around your shoulder before he was stuck to your back again like a limpet. You weren’t complaining. It was absolutely what you needed right now. His presence. His touch. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave your side no matter what. No matter how broken your past, or how ruined you may be. He’d be by your side through all of it. 

Logan kissed the top of your head, stepping ahead of you to snap the folder closed and shove it somewhere out of sight, but you stopped him before he could. 

“I’m okay…” you murmured, loosening your grip on his forearm a little. He tensed his jaw, looking between you and the file. The mere fact that you were alright to continue was a testament to your courage. If he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t know how much more he could read before it was you holding his hair back. And you giggled as he said just that. “Big baby.” You teased lightly, threading your fingers through his dark strands, swiping the damp back from his brow. 

“‘Scuze me if I’m not exactly thrilled to read all the agony they put the love of my life through…” he admitted with a soft huff, unable to meet your gaze as your eyes lit up. You rose to your tiptoes, moulding your lips against his in a soft, reassuring kiss, before pulling back. You chose not to mention it, how he’d never said anything like that to you in the last eight months you’d been together. You chose not to pinpoint the moment of vulnerability, opting instead to let his words settle in your heart. 

You didn’t know the time and honestly didn’t want to. Making yourselves two cups of tea, you returned back to the folder on the bed, once again getting comfortable. “Well. That was fucking harrowing…” you commented flatly as if you’d read something in the news, and Logan grunted in agreement, raising his fresh mug of tea to his mouth. He’d never been a tea drinker in the past, but living with you had turned him to all kinds of interesting new habits. “Ready for more…?” you asked with a wry smile to mask your nerves. He shot you an exhausted look but nodded nonetheless as you flipped through the papers to return to the one you’d had to leave. “Yeah no okay we don’t need to continue that one, we get the gist of it…” you turned the page hurriedly, smoothing out the paper as you pushed the contents behind you.

Year by year you kept reading, huffing little laughs as Kreva noted down everything NLMO got up to. From stealing some man’s car in the 1950s to graffitiing a wall with a penis in the 1980s. And whilst you knew your entire life was a simulation, it was almost gratifying to see that half of the things you remembered really did happen. You really did cook food with your brother. You really did hang out with Jade, or Kaleidoscope, every day. Erin, or Wood-Nymph, really did teach you how to grow plants effectively. You used to sit with Morgana, or Sanguine, and sketch together. Atlas, or Harmony, used his mutation to heal you up every time you ‘got into a fight’. You refused to refer to them by their numbers, just as you would refuse to refer to yourself that way too. 

Logan wasn’t expecting the moments of peace within the file. He’d only skimmed a few pages back in the med bay and hadn’t picked it up since, so he was pleasantly surprised every time you chuckled lightly at your old shenanigans. You would offer small anecdotes of what you remembered, providing further context to what he was reading. 

It broke him apart, however, when you went quiet. When you’d turn the page and be faced with the reality of what was happening to you. Psychological torture to test your mind’s durability. Scans and tests that had you screaming in pain as they injected you with various drugs, just to see how your mutation would react, if at all. These were the moments when Logan would hold you tighter against his side, eyes flickering from the pages to your face to guage where you were mentally. 

1962, your mouth fell open as you scanned down the experiment report. They were helping you develop your mutation. Logan too pinched his brows in confusion. You’d been able to call the shadows at will, conjuring various objects, weapons, and appendages without a sweat. “Wh– How?” you muttered to yourself, flipping back through the pages you’d already read as if to find some kind of answer. Logan stilled your hand, his eyes scanning furiously down the log before pointing to a paragraph roughly a quarter of the way down the page.

“There.”

Sub.8 only seems to access its mutation after we use Sub.1 to refocus its brain. Whereas 5 had access to its full range of powers at all times, 8 shows signs of regression when 1 replaces its memories. To combat this, I have 1 reassemble only the memories it needs to regain full control and access to its mutation. The reasons for this are, as of right now, unclear. However, it is suspected that, though subconscious, 5 retains muscle memory of utilisation. It could be that 8 is so resilient because it simply forgets even on a subconscious level. Further investigation is needed to yield an answer.

You rolled your eyes, muttering a sarcastic “Oh, very helpful.” Before you continued flipping through the pages.

Spending the next day in bed, Logan was up and down the stairs, mainly to stretch his legs every now and then, but also to grab snacks and drinks before falling back down next to you on the bed, offering you a bite of whatever he’d snatched. You’d continue reading the document in front of you, absently opening your mouth before sinking your teeth into what you learned was a block of cheese. Only then did you look away from the text, shooting him a look of bafflement. 

“An entire block of cheese?”

“‘M hungry.” He shrugged defensively, and you snorted a laugh, shaking your head as you returned to the words before you.

Logan didn’t know how you did it. He’d seen you sit for hours, with a nose buried in a book, but this was on another level. In the last twenty hours, he thinks he saw you get up and stretch once, head to the bathroom maybe three times, and take a roughly two-hour power nap. He, on the other hand, had to stand every hour or so, his legs feeling like dead weights if he lay down for much longer than that. The stacks of pages evened out slowly before finally, the read side looked far larger than the to-read side. 

Setting down another mug of sweetened coffee on your nightstand, a new secret recipe of espresso mixed with hot chocolate, Logan lay back down next to you, skim-reading the rest of the page where he’d left off before you turned it over. It was how he forced you to give your eyes a break. You couldn’t continue until he’d finished the page you shared, and you only looked away when you’d reached the bottom and he’d stood up to go somewhere. 

You’d reached 2013 now, only seven years ago, and the two of you were coming to the end of the folder. Flipping over the final page, you were met with penmanship rather than the typeface you’d become used to. Glancing to Logan, he returned your look of trepidation, before you started to read it aloud. 

6th April, 2013. Fuck fuck FUCK! He’s let them all fucking go. FUCK! I barely managed to save their folders before the stupid bastard blew up the whole FUCKING FACILITY! I don’t know how he managed to get 1 to alter their memories without coercing it, but they’ve all scattered across the fucking country. We need to start rebuilding. We need to get them back. Now. We cannot let this research go to waste. They need to be understood. If we are to create an army of these mutants, we need them to return and continue understanding their fundamentals. 5 was the easiest to manipulate, and 1 didn’t know how to run. I found it lying on the ground by the road. I will rebuild what he destroyed, I will find them all again. I’ll continue the work of my great-grandfather. But if anything should go wrong… I’ll have 5 eradicate all evidence. 

That was the last entry in your folder, and you wondered if any of the other seven had a similar log. Blowing out a long breath, you folded the file closed, turning to look at Logan as he seemed stuck in his head. A palm against his cheek, you turned him to look at you, tilting your head to the side in silently questioning.

“Hundred-and-five.” Was all he said, and you squinted in confusion.

“Hm?”

“That’s how old you are. At the start, it said you were sixteen. The first entry was in 1931, and the last entry was in 2013. Add the last seven years to that, and you’re hundred-and-five years old.” You stayed silent, attempting to wrap your head around his calculations. Over a century, you’d been alive. And eighty-two years of it was spent in a simulation, your memories being replaced almost daily. It was like your brain was a computer software they updated every ten years, making sure the background to your memories matched the decade. Fucking hell.

“Guess I can’t really make fun of you for your age anymore, huh…?” You smiled a little sadly, genuinely upset that half your jokes were now completely voided due to the fact you weren’t that much younger than him. You still didn’t know his age for sure, and neither did he. “But, looking on the bright side… at least I won’t grow old and grey whilst you look gorgeous forever.” You elbowed him softly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

If this was how you chose to cope with it, then Logan would be happy to go along with you. “You were worried ‘bout that?” he asked, raising a thick brow as you nodded.

“It crossed my mind, sure.” You shrugged, before kicking the folder to the floor, its once imposing presence in the room was now little more than an inconvenience taking up too much of the bed. The silence settled as you contemplated that last page. A mutant army. It didn’t seem possible. Who would be willing to join something like that? And why would any mutant fight for a human doctor? But you couldn’t shake your growing fear. And now he’d gathered whoever was left of NLMO, minus yourself and Jade. And since Jade was dead, you were the last on his list.

The thought didn’t scare you. You knew what you needed to do. And you were pretty sure Logan knew it too. 

“We need to get you back to Charles…” he whispered in defeat, being the braver of the two to actually voice what needed to happen. You needed your full mutation, and if the file was to be believed, the only way you could get it back, was if your memories were restored. Your real memories.

Closing your eyes, you tensed your jaw as you nodded in agreement, still too afraid to speak it into existence. Truth be told, you didn’t want your memories back. Whilst you weren’t exactly thrilled at what happened to you, it felt so far away, since you don’t remember living through any of it. “What if…” you started, trailing off almost immediately as you found the right words. “What if I’m not… me, anymore. If he can get them back, my memories… what if I’m different than I am now?” You asked timidly, avoiding looking anywhere near his face by fiddling with one of the tassels of his zipper hoodie.

Logan sighed through his nose, clasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and raising your head so he could look you in the eye. Honestly, it scared him too, what those memories might do to you, but he also knew who you were. At your core. At the centre of your being. He knew exactly who and what you were. 

“You’ll be different, sure. But you’ll still be you,” he urged you to meet his gaze, adjusting his grip on your chin every time your eyes shifted from his own. “No matter what happens. No matter who or what you are after you remember, I’ll be right here.” His fingers shifted from your chin to your jaw, sandwiching your face between his calloused palms, his thumbs tracing the shadows beneath your eyes. 

Your head settled against his brow, simply feeling him close to you, whispering a quiet “Okay…” before he pressed a kiss of assurance to your lips. You smiled against him, your breath fanning his mouth and chin. 

“Glad I changed the spark plugs now… shame about the oil.” You chuckled slightly, and Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Think an oil change is the least of our concerns…” he mumbled, before you sat back, rubbing a tired hand down the side of your face. You looked exhausted, but then again, you always did. “Well, no time like the present, huh?” A rapid sigh flew from parted lips and you scrambled off the bed, pulling your rucksack out of the closet. Logan made to follow your lead, before halting as rhythmic, low vibrations hummed from the bedside drawer. His wry gaze slid to you, a brow raised in sly amusement. 

You held your hands up in innocence. “Don’t look at me! My drawer’s on that side! Plus it has an off switch, thank you!” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, wrenching the drawer open, various different objects clattering around with the force, including his unused mobile phone. It was rudimentary, barely more modern than the Nokia Brick, sporting large thick buttons rather than a screen. What small screen it did have illuminated as Logan chuckled at the name, holding up the mobile so you could read it. 

TODD

You snorted a laugh, checking the time on the phone simultaneously. Had he really only found the sneaky money after almost two days? At two in the morning? “Told ya you’d receive an angry text or call!” You grinned triumphantly, Logan tossing the phone back down on the bed to let it ring out. He’d return his call on the road whenever you’d inevitably fallen asleep, and listen to whatever long-winded reprimanding he had coming his way. 

“Stay in the car…” he’d growled, his nose twitching as he sensed something wasn’t quite right. Your heart thundered in your throat as he opened his door, claws sliding from his knuckles, surveying the treelines on either side of the road. The air beyond the cab was quiet. Too quiet. And Logan angled his head to the sky, inhaling deeply before exhaling a threatening snarl. 

Something was very wrong. 

You linked your fingers through the handle of your door, pulling against the mechanism. Logan whipped to look at you through the driver’s side, his eyes wide and panicked as you shot him a look back. You weren’t fucking defenseless for Christ’s sake. You were a powerful mutant even without the whole scope of your abilities. 

You stepped out of the car despite his protests, waiting for something to happen the moment your feet touched the tarmac.

Silence.

You took a step forward.

Silence.

Casting a glance over to Logan, you watched as his chest heaved with adrenaline, and you didn’t fight the urge to cross the road with the intention of setting him at ease.

The second you were crossing the headlights, the dark road ahead exploded with light, shadows disappearing as a single gunshot rang out.

Logan’s world froze as blood exploded from your chest, spraying the hood and windshield of the pickup. A look of confusion tilted your head, before realisation dawned on your features and you staggered back, your breath strained in your throat as a dark line of crimson slid from the corner of your mouth. Pain wracked his chest as Logan roared, though his desperate attempts to get to you were in vain, finding his limbs sluggish and his brain hazy. 

Your knees gave out as you collapsed onto the road, splitting your head against the tarmac. This is why you haven’t left for six months. This was the exact reason why he’d kept you safe in the cabin. Logan supported himself against the truck, dragging his stubborn legs across the ground, his vision swimming. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. All you needed was a shadow and you’d be okay. He’d deal with the rest. He just needed to get his shadow within your reach. 

“The Wolverine. I’ve heard a lot about you.” A voice echoed around the trees lining the road, that pocket-sized sun moving closer to where you lay, gasping and bleeding, with no shadow to disintegrate into. “You’re extremely hard to get rid of. I never take Subject Two anywhere, yet here it was needed to keep you at bay. An impressive little mutant. It can manipulate blood cells. You see, right now, it’s slowed the beat of your heart to the point where you feel… drowsy? Sluggish? Exhausted? How’re you feeling right now?” He almost mocked, crouching down to where Logan had fallen to the floor, inches away from you. But the light had moved, his shadow now behind him and nowhere near where you needed it.

“Kreva.” He hissed, his claws slowly sliding from his knuckles and scratching along the tarmac. You gurgled weakly, making a subconscious reach for where Logan lay immobile, his eyes bloodshot. You’d read the file now. You knew all about NLMO and their individual mutations. Subject Two, Sanguine, could control and manipulate blood, whether it was her own or belonged to somebody, or something, else. And of course, that constant glow of sunlight belonged to Subject Five. Rowan. Solaris. Your brother. 

Your body itched as you bled out, begging for the haven of darkness to dissolve and reform, it was taking all of your strength to hold together those threads.

“It’s been cute, watching our Phantom domesticate the great Wolverine. But it couldn’t last. I still need it, unfortunately.” Dr.Kreva patted his hand against Logan’s arm as if in consolidate him, but it did nothing other than fuel his rage. Logan struggled against Sanguine, looking up at her shrouded face, eyes burning a deep red as she continued to manipulate his bloodstream. “Everyone step back!” Kreva called out, resulting in the team around him shuffling back a few feet.

“Don’t… don’t you– fuckin’ touch her!” Logan’s vision tunnelled slightly, barely managing to ground out his threat between clenched teeth. Kreva simply laughed with bitter condescending.

“Yes, I suppose I could let her bleed out. Though considering she’s been shot in the chest before and lived, I wonder how long it would take for her to actually die. Maybe that’ll be our last experiment. Whaddya say, Eight?” He bent over you, and you mustered up enough energy to spit a globule of blood into his face. He swiped at your crimson spit, cracking a hearty smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Subject Five, if you could.” Rowan moved behind Kreva, his shadow shrouding you in darkness and you fought the urge to dissolve into it, knowing that if you did, there would be nothing you could do. He had intimate knowledge of your mutation, he’d already prepared by bringing along your brother, let alone whatever else he’d had with him. You greet your blood-stained teeth, shivering as your body pleaded with you to let go. “You’ll give in, Eight. You always do. You tried this before. Not that you remember. Those scars on your wrists? You’ve tried this before and your body wouldn’t let you. So just give in…” He urged quietly, and you balled your fists, your nails digging harshly into the soft flesh of your palm. 

Your eyes slid to Logan a few feet away, his breath heaving in his chest, fear swirling in his wide hazel irises as he looked at you. 

“I will find you,” he grit, the tendons in his neck straining. “I promise. I will find you.”

You offered him a weary, bloody smile, and his heart broke as he saw the hope fade from your face. 

“I love you…” you barely managed a silent whisper, lingering just long enough to watch his whole world shatter through the windows to his soul, before you released the threads within your body, sinking into Kreva’s shadow. 

“Splendid,” Kreva clapped his hands together as if he’d done nothing but lit a fantastic barbecue. “Subject Five, you can stop now.” Like a switch had been flipped, the daylight glow resonating from your brother cut out, the torch beams from the truck headlights now the only remaining light. Logan clawed at the ground, his eyes lingering where he’d seen you last. You weren’t dead. He needed to remember that. You weren’t dead. But the way you spoke to him like it was the last time you were ever going to see him…

A cry of anguish worked its way up his throat, splitting the air as Kreva turned back to him like he’d just remembered he was there. “Oh, I know, hurts, doesn’t it? Let’s ease your pain for a while. Subject Two, if you’d be so kind.” 

Logan’s vision swam further, the pounding in his head growing to a crescendo as his heart rate slowed, knowing nothing more as his senses faded to black. 

It must have only been seconds of unconscious, the sky still shrouded in black clouds when he came to once again. Though Kreva was nowhere to be seen, a pool of crimson blood left behind where you once lay dying. 

You weren’t dead. You weren’t dead. 

Raising to his forearms, Logan shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the cobwebs, hazy memories dancing just out of his reach. Staggering to his feet, he craned his neck as the hum of a jet hovered overhead, recognising the Blackbird instantly, the sleek design blending in seamlessly with the sky above before the beams from the truck headlights illuminated the cockpit, steam hissing with pressure as the feet extended to the ground.

The engine was still whirring when Storm sprinted down the ramp toward him, her stark hair flowing behind her in the breeze she kicked up. Logan shook his head numbly as she approached, in answer to the question she had yet to ask. “Gone…” was all he could say, eyes sliding from Ororo to the bloodstain on the tarmac. Scott jogged up behind her, fingers braced at the side of his glasses before he stopped, seeing Logan’s expression.

There was a moment of understanding between the two men, Scott swallowing hard, Logan shaking his head still, slightly helpless before Scott stepped forward and firmly enveloped him in a tight embrace. 

“We’ll get her back, man. We will.” 

Logan’s breath shuddered as Scott drew back, keeping a hand firmly clasped atop his shoulder as Ororo looked between the two of them. “Kreva, right?” she asked rhetorically, though Logan nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah. Ambush. Had this freaky blood manipulator. I couldn’t fuckin’ get to her.” he bared his teeth, running a hand through his hair.

“How’d he even know where she was? Where were you headed?” Scott asked, continuously glancing around as if someone was eavesdropping on the conversation. But they’d gone. Kreva and his subjects had gone. 

And taken you with them.

“Headin’ back to you. We read the file. She needs her memories back if we want to use her mutation. I don’t have a clue how he knew. I just–”

The realisation struck Logan like a brick to the head, stopping abruptly as he absently removed his phone from his back pocket.

There, glaring in the low light, the sole reason for icy fury to flood his veins. There, the sole reason you weren’t by his side right now.

Logan gripped the phone in his palm, hearing the casing crack slightly as he read the text over and over, a name he thought he could trust. The only name he thought he could trust with you.

TODD:

Forgive me.

[6ix9inewiturmom]

I Guess Youre Not a Tough Guy After All.. - Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: You and Matt had been friends for a while but what happens when you catch him staring at you? could you tear down his tough guy persona?

Warnings: SMUTTYY!! P in V, Sub!Matt, very soft Dom!FemReader, Praising, Begging, Spit mentioned, handjob ish, Oral (male receiving)

A/N: GUYSSSS THIS IS MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT SUB MATT… i was scared of writing this at first but please let me know how this turned out, also i wrote this whole fic listening to Older by Isabel Larosa

Psa: USE UR OWN IDEAS DONT STEAL MINE.

Request: Yes by Anon

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ever since 10th grade, The triplets and I have been attached at the hip. Everything we did was with each other, though we were all friends, we had a little family. Matt and I were closer than the rest of them but he's anti feelings so it's not like I could ever figure out how he felt anyway. His tough guy persona would be the absolute death of me.

Matt and I were watching a movie in the house alone because the triplets each decided they wanted to ‘venture’ out of being up each other's asses all the time. In my peripheral view, I catch Matts's eyes gleaming at me in a way he normally doesn't look at me causing me to look over and make him quickly shoot his head back towards the television. “Staring is rude Matthew,” I say smirking towards him.

“I hate when you call me that and you know it,” he says adjusting his lap “I wasn't staring at you, I was looking out the window towards our neighbors I thought someone was outside”

“Nice cover” I chuckle softly “but the window is more behind us than right beside me” I playfully wink.

“S-shut up, you know what I mean” he stutters out.

“Awe someone nervous now” I giggle softly nudging his shoulder “But you got a little drool on ya chin” I point at his chin.

He quickly wiped his chin checking for drool. “Fuck” he mutters “You know what,” he smirks shifting his body over and beginning to tickle me

I start laughing uncontrollably “Stop Matthew”

“Fine fine” he surrenders moving back to his original position “C-can I tell you something” he nervously says fiddling with his fingers.

“You know you can tell me anything” i shift my body so its facing him.

“I uh- fuck” he struggles to get his words out. “I like you…like more than an uh a friend would, you don't have to say anything back but um I thought I'd tell you before-” I cut him off by crawling on top of his lip and pressing my lips against his passionately.

I softly pull away “I like you too” I smile down at him as his gaze softens. “And I have liked you for a while”

“You- you have?” he stutters.

“wasn’t it obvious” I smile placing my hands on his chest

“Fuck” he breathes out leaning in and kissing me again “You have no idea what you to do to me Y/N” he mutters through the kiss.

My lips make their way down his neck softly nibbling at his soft skin making his breathing become heavier “please” he whispers.

“Please what pretty boy? Use your words love” i whisper back into his neck leaving soft purplish marks on his neck.

“Touch me, something, I- I can't take it,” he says grinding his hips against me.

I lean up smiling at him “You're such a pretty boy, I wish I told you more” I get off his lap placing myself between his legs and balancing on my knees. his gaze on me stayed persistent as I toyed with the hem of his sweatpants he had been lounging around in all day. He lifted his hips up allowing me to free his pent-up cock. I had never seen it before but I could tell all the “small dick” jokes he makes in fact were just jokes. My eyes lit up at it as it sprung free from his boxers with a bit of precum leaking from the tip.

“You see something that you like baby?” a cocky smirk is placed on his face.

I placed my bottom lip in my teeth and nodded. My tongue poked out of my mouth and kitty licked the tip making him groan and throw his head back. “Fuck” he says with almost a whimper in his voice.

My lips wrap around his cock as my head bobs up and down his thick shaft batting my eyelashes up at him with his head resting on the back of the couch as his legs start twitching. “C-close” he chokes out.

I hum in response while I take my hand and jerk the rest of his cock that doesn't fit in my mouth up and down and swirl my tongue around his tip. His hips jerk up as he releases his pent-up orgasm down my throat. “Fuck” he drags out “I've never finished t-that f-fast before” he stutters “That's how much control you have over me”

I bit my lip again smiling at the mess I made of him, I crawled back onto him once again placing a passionate kiss on his lips. “I need you” he mutters.

“How do you need me?” I tilt my head to the side a bit. “You can tell me” I send him a reassuring smile

“I-i-i need to be in you” his voice shakes

I smiled pulling my tank top over my head and shimmying my shorts off my legs throwing them off the couch and leaving me bare on top of him. I guess I chose the right day to wear absolutely nothing under my clothes. “You're so beautiful” he smiles up at me as I place my hands on his shoulders to support myself aligning himself with my desperate hole and slowly sinking down as I feel him touch the deepest part of me. “Oh Matt” I whimper.

My hips begin to work up and down his cock as the room fills with the sounds of my thighs hitting him, and our sounds of pleasure. My hands grip his shoulders for more support as I begin to move faster up and down.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me” he whimpers in my ear.

“You feel so good IN me,” I say as my head falls back and my hips glide my wet pussy all over him making not only me but him as well see stars.

I begin to bounce my hips up and down on his cock as his hands grip my love handles for support leaving crescent shaped dents in my skin.

“I'm so fucking close,” he says burying his head in my neck and softly sucking marks on my neck to hide his whimpers as he becomes closer to his edge.

“Me too pretty boy, hold on a few more alright?” I reassure him grabbing the back of his head in a soft way where I'm hugging him as my pace gets faster and sloppier as I get close myself.

“W-w-where can I finish” he stutters as I feel his legs give out beneath me.

“In me, please?” I say as I grind my hips down to allow him to feel deeper in me.

His hips jerk upwards, and his head goes back as a moan almost a whimper escapes his lips as he coats my walls white releasing into me.

Feeling his release into me made me go faster and harder onto him “S-s-sensitive” he hisses and within a few seconds a white ring formed around the base of his cock as my cum dripped down along his cock and I slowly pulled off of him and plopped down next to him.

“You did so good” I smiled moving the loose hair from his eyes back so I could see him better.

“Thank you” he blushed pulling me to his side “you don't understand how many nights in my life I dreamed of this moment” he breathed out.

“I guess you're not a tough guy after all eh?” i giggled softly trying to catch my breath from my previous orgasm.

“Oh shush,” he says flustered trying to cover his face

“You pretty when you blush Matthew,” I say lifting my head up and kissing his cheek making him get flustered a little more.

“I think we might wanna restart the movie” he chuckles “and that's definitely not the last time we're doing this either” he looks down at me smiling.

“And we might wanna get changed so Nick and Chris don't walk in on us” I nervously laugh

"Great idea," He exclaimed with laughter as we helped each other get dressed.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N PT 2: SO this was supposed to be out earlier but the triplets went live on twitch and i spent the last 4 1/2 hours watching them and not finishing this LMFAO also i love writing sub matt.. LOWKEY WAS NOT A FAN OF SUB MATT BUT I LOVED IT 😫

[chvnnie]

on the topic of dad!skz. dad!minho picking out a itty bitty kitty halloween costume for his baby girl with the softest little cat ears, a floofy tail and he finds a little makeup pen that he researches and researches to make sure it's okay to put on her skin because he wants to draw whiskers on her but not if it's going to hurt her!!!! and he walks home with the biggest smile on his face and gets home so excited to show you what he bought - only to see you putting your daughter into a puppy costume you bought earlier that day.

the days leading up to halloween are spent with bickering over which costume she should be in (minho almost foaming at the mouth because cats are his thing how can his daughter n o t be in a cat costume) and on the day she ends up in???? (this is where you come in bc i really can't think of denying minho anything)

Seungmin is behind this. Somehow, Minho hasn’t really figured it out yet. He just knows it’s his fault because who else could have convinced you of this?

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” He says with the most humorless expression on his face. “Where he is?”

You furrow your brows. “Who?”

“Ah, come on. What other puppy do we know?” Minho gestures at his daughter on the ground, ironically chasing her fake tail.

It clicks, and you can’t help but laugh. “Minho, you’re joking.”

Blank face. He’s not even joking a little bit. Sighing, you stand up from the couch, walking right past him towards the kitchen.

“Think what you want, Minho, but I do have the ability to make my own decisions.”

When you get into bed that night, you don’t face him. Rolling over to stare out the window instead.

He really didn’t think that you’d be this mad about it. More than anything, Minho thought it was a silly joke. Like ha ha ha, Seungmin weaseled his way into dressing his daughter as a dog. Did he do that with Jisung’s daughter, too? Changbin’s boys? It’s so in character that it was easy to just believe it.

But he can tell with how you’ve acted with him since he got home — only really talking to your daughter, insisting on doing bath and bed by yourself — it was a stupid thought that he shouldn’t have ran with.

“Hey.” He rolls on his side towards you, a hand on your shoulder. “Come on, talk to me.”

“I’m tired, Minho.” It’s a lie — the bed is shaking with how jittery your legs are.

“I’m not going to drop it.” Minho says plainly. “You know that.”

With a sigh, you sit up, knees to your chest. Not really looking at him and instead fiddling with your sweatshirt. “Fine. It made me mad that you reacted like that to her costume.”

Minho smiles sadly, reaching for your hand. If you keep playing with that thread, you’ll ruin that shirt, and he knows it’s your favorite thing to sleep in as the weather turns. Though reluctant, you let him take your hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated it like a joke—“

“She looked really cute and I thought you would really like it.” There’s a cry catching in your throat, one that you’re desperately trying to swallow down. Minho’s heart shatters when he hears how much it upset you.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he slowly presses his lips to your palm. Peppering them around the hand; the tops, the wrist, over your wedding ring. “She did look very cute.”

“She always looks cute.”

The way you say it, with such a pout, makes Minho giggle a little. He shuffles in the bed, lying his head on your knees to get a better look at you. “It’s because she looks like you.”

Ah, there you go. The corners of your lips peeking up before you remember why you’re so upset. “Stop with that cheesy bullshit—“

“It’s true! If she looked like me…sheesh.”

You move too quick for him to catch, grabbing the pillow you’re propped up on and hitting him with it. Minho tries to pull it from your hands, ready for revenge, but you won’t give.

“Say that again and I’ll hit you HARDER next time.”

“Oooooh, so scary. So big and tough with your pillow, huh?”

Minho gives up on trying to take your pillow.

And grabs one of his own.

///

It’s your turn to walk into a surprise. Less than a week left until Halloween, and there’s your daughter. Sitting in the high chair as her father, your husband, delicately traces lines from her nose.

“What is this?”

While Minho is still, it makes Jisung jump. The baby in his lap crying from the sudden movement. “Sheesh, knock next time.”

Your brows raise. “It’s my? Home? What’s going on here?”

Jisung looks from you to Minho, spinning the baby is his lap around so you can see. A pretty little heart painted on the tip of her nose, teeny whiskers across her face. The costume she’s wearing identical to the one your daughter has on, only a few sizes smaller.

“Doesn’t she look so CUTE?” Jisung is so giddy, cooing as he bounces the baby on his knee. “We wanted her to be a pumpkin, but then Minho came over and said he got her something—“

“We haven’t decided on a costume.” You say sternly, looking at your husband.

“Yet.” Minho’s eyes flick up to you. “You haven’t seen her as a cat yet.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Nothing is going to steer me away from—“

Your heart leaps from your body. Never have you seen something so precious, so tiny. Her nose is pink, the whiskers twisting out to just about her mid cheek. Her eyes light up when she sees you, babbling on and on as she reaches out for you.

“Oh, look at you.” You coo, quickly gathering her in your arms. She giggles, snuggling into your shoulder. Her little headband brushes softly against your neck. Oh, you could cry.

Minho looks a little too smug for your liking. “So what were you saying about not steering you—“

“Shut up.”

///

“You really liked the cat costume—“

“But, Min, the dog—“

“She just looks so cute as a cat. Come on, baby, you have to see it.”

“And she doesn’t look cute as a dog?”

“Of course she does! I’m just saying—“

Jisung is in his office, windows shut, and he can still hear the two of your bickering from the other side of the fence. There’s no hard feelings there, just the two of you are too stubborn to give up. Cat, dog. Dog, cat. Over and over and over—

Sighing, he pushes himself up from his computer chair. Grabbing the car keys from his bag and leaving with a quick goodbye kiss to his partner and daughter. Just a teeny little errand.

You answer the door, Minho meowing obnoxiously somewhere inside the house. “Hey, Jisung—“

“It’s my turn to pick.” He forces a plastic bag in your hand before turning around and leaving. Even after you call after him, your voice fading as he walks the short distance back to your house.

You open the bag, the costume still perfectly in its wrapper. Soft, tan fur decorates the onesie. A hood to cover her teeny little head and keep her warm.

You throw it to the side. A lion, really? What a silly choice, so basic. It’s her first halloween, you’re not going to waste it on something like this.

///

She went as a lion.

hehehehehe

[starryylies]

What about a shy Simon trying to ask out reader👀

SHY! SIMON ASKING OUT READER

Omg simon tryna ask reader out is sooooo cuteeeee, I can imagine him being all shy and awkward trying to confess,

like a pitbull being scared of a little kitty

His voice cracks as he tries to talk to you, creating an awkward silence between you two before you let out a small chuckle and smile up at him

He swears he loses a year each time he sees you smile, he starts blushing but he made sure to ask you at night so you don’t see him mess up.

He slowly lets out a stammering statement, his voice modulating like a 14 year old boy

“Uh so lovie, been wantin to tell ya this, I mean it’s not really me telling you technically,

wait I mean yea it’s more of a question but still” he awkwardly phrases as he shrugs his hands

“But jus’ wanted to tell ya you look real beautiful tonight princess, nobody shinin’ brighter than you”

Fuckfuckfuck simon realises he just totally went off point

And SHITTT he stayed silent for a whole ass minute after saying that thus making the atmosphere with pretty odd

his inner monologue is scolding him for being such a dumbass :(

But your voice breaks through those of his head

Your sweet voice chirping, cutting the weird silence

“You look pretty too sisi” you smile

He lets out a soft smile accompanied with a soft and hearty chuckle.

He turns around thinking there’s no point confessing since it will be pretty tough to make his point now,

And what matters most is that you smiled and at him at that, so yea he doesn’t mind.

But that chain of thought is broken when you yell across the corridor

“M craving popcorn right now, take me to a movie si?”

And when he turns around he sees the corners of lips turned upwards smiling at him

The same way he smiles at you.

[jettwrites]

Kitty Art and puppy Pat comforting reader after a tough day, snuggling up close to her as she flops onto the bed, literally unable to hold her eyes open :( making love to her tired cunt, licking it gently and for as long as she needs to. She's barely conscious enough to run her fingers through their hair, easing them in. Good puppy, good kitty, making mommy feel so good <3

HFNGBSHH amy you’re gonna kill me

today was absolutely awful. your boss had given you a hard time all day, grilling you for every little thing and by the end of the shift, tears filled with stress were falling in your car.

you didn’t even bother to greet the pair as you headed directly to your bedroom — afraid they would hear the cracks of sorrow in your voice. wrapped with the covers, face shoved down into your pillow, a weak attempt to hush the feeble sobs that ran through your body.

it wasn’t long until the mattress dipped on both of your sides, a delicate hand carding through your hair — almost hesitantly in fear of damaging you as if you’re a porcelain doll. an arm landed over your frame, patrick nuzzling his nose against your cheek, trying his absolute best to coax you to look at them. when you finally do, his breath hitches. eyes rimmed with tears that threaten to fall, face blotched with red and hot to the touch :(((

“baby…”

he all but whines, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the condition your in. the two look at each other and agree they each want nothing more but to console you.

patrick has your thighs propped open over his firm shoulders, gently tonguing at your over-sensitive slit — continuously leaking into his mouth. it’s the calmest he’s ever eaten you out, normally opting to sloppily bring you orgasm after orgasm, one right after another. but he insisted on being the individual to do it tonight. promised you and art (who was skeptical) that he would be so so sweet, so careful and delicate with his mommy. your eyes flutter shut, only reopening when art suckles and paws at your tits, leaving raw marks which would soon turn into bruises by morning <333 a hand rests limply in the head of brunette curls that lazily laps at your clit like a good puppy. the other, weakly stroking art’s smooth back — petting him like the perfect kitten he is.

it’s all too much as your third orgasm hits you like a wave — hips twitching narrowly into the boy's face — riding out the high.

“thank you— thank you… mmm so perfect f’me… good boys helpin’ mommy out— need to give you a treat,” you babble mindlessly but art presses a soft kiss against your plush lips — effectively silencing you except for the faint moans that escape inevitably.

“no need to speak — just let us take care of you, yeah? always doing so much for us, let us do something for you…”

art’s tone and the way his blue eyes hold eye contact with yours — half-lidded and clouded by adoration — is soothing. knowing you're in good hands — completely surrounded by them. their warmth, calming words, their touch. your mind is entirely consumed by them — your perfect boys <333

[julihlaufey]

Conversations On The Roof

✧⁠*⁠。A hero doesn't always have a good day. And on one of your worst days, there's nothing better than a rooftop conversation with Deadpool to make you sleep better. ✧⁠*⁠。

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Obs: This is my first work in English. You can also find it in Portuguese on the profile if you want. Good reading! ⁠♡

Female Reader/Sfw

-------------------------------------------------------

The nights in the city could sometimes be quite cold, especially after a day of work.

If your practices could even be called that, you didn’t receive any rewards for your actions, but to be honest, you were used to it by now. The big thing about being a hero was that you never got paid for your deeds. And if you ever messed up or slipped, all the "thank you" smiles for saving the day would fade, and the judgmental looks would appear. That was just another one of those days. You were sitting on the roof of a house near your favorite restaurant.

A place where only extremely "healthy" foods were sold. Perfect for the end of days like these. Your feet dangled against the wind, brushing the suit that covered you from head to toe.

Your hands were too busy savoring that masterpiece of cheese and grease that was your snack. And your dreams were too lost in watching the people flocking into the small restaurant to notice you were no longer alone.

— And another tough day for our Spidergirl. One more for the list!

Wade.

— How many times do I have to tell you. I don't use that name?!

— Então qual é o nome do seu herói? — Ele perguntou, já sabendo a resposta.

— ... Ainda não sei. Mas eu vou decidir. - Você olha para o lado, vendo-o rir por baixo da máscara e sentar-se ao seu lado de forma preguiçosa.

— This time I remembered to ask for extra mustard. - You said, handing over his still-wrapped sandwich.

— E queijo extra? — perguntou Deadpool, animado por depois de tantas vezes, você finalmente ter se lembrado.

— Wasn't it without? - You replied, watching the smile on his face disappear instantly. — Just kidding, extra cheese.

He gave you a playful punch on the arm, starting his meal. His legs swung carelessly.

— Looks like my day was a piece of crap, but yours was wonderful.

— You say that because I didn't try shoving you of the roof today or because my legs are swinging?

You roll your eyes.

— Because of the legs.

— Nah, it was crap. The idiot of the day found out I was coming and holed up in a panic room. The son of a bitch even mocked me through the security camera, can you believe it? - He said, pulling his mask up above his eyes this time, staring at you.

— And you couldn't get through a little panic room?

— I'm a mercenary, my love, not a magician. Unless you want me to be. - He added in a suggestive tone, leaning closer. You're lost count of how many times you rolled your eyes around Wade.

But surprisingly, those provocations and confident laughs were the best part of your day.

— But no. I didn't get that jerk. It's for next time. And you? Couldn't save the kitty from the tree?

— No. He suffocated on the rope in front of his ten-year-old owner.

He stared at you. For a moment, Wade thought it might be true, but he quickly caught on.

— Got it. My target escaped, but it was very hard. His son had to die, and he watched through the camera, unable to do anything.

— The little girl went into shock until her mom arrived, having to see him bloody and hanging.

— The boy was carrying a little truck. The father must have given it to him before I arrived.

— The little girl ended up hospitalized, and they don't know if she'll ever recover from the trauma.

— ... There was a baby and-

— No.

— Damn. - Deadpool slapped his leg in defeat. — But seriously, did you get the cat?

— Screw you. It was a fire case. The couple arrived, and the house was engulfed in smoke. I only managed to get the kid out.

— Isn't that good? You stopped a brat from dying. That's pretty sexy to me. You chuckled weakly at his infamous attempt to lighten the mood.

— They asked me to try to get to the safe. The couple's savings were there, and he had just lost his job.

— They can get the money back, darling. You weren't that bad.

— She's eight months pregnant, Wade. - You said, with a heavy voice. It wasn't easy to recall that stressful afternoon.

— ... Yeah, you got me there. And unfortunately, not in the way I wanted.

Rolling your eyes with a weak smile, you took a sip of your soda.— But look. You're a hero, you had to save their lives. Isn't that the hero's deal? The bad guy, the fire, was stopped, and the victims, the family, were saved. You did everything you could, cupcake.

— You're not used to failing and then having people look at you and curse like you're the worst person in the world...

— Ah, believe me, sweetie. Whether I kill, don't kill, or don't even show up at all, I get cursed.

You smiled faintly. Wade's jokes could usually cheer you up, and you truly appreciated his attempts to lift your spirits. But that day, things were a bit deeper.

Deadpool noticed, seeing that you didn't react as usual to his jokes. Crumpling the brown sandwich bag, he tossed it aside, giving his drink one last sip and patting his thigh twice.

You turned your head, confused.— Come on. Don't be afraid, I swear I don't bite. Unless you ask.

Laughing a little and rolling your eyes for the twentieth time that night, you accepted, resting your head on his leg.

— It's comfortable. - You commented impulsively.

— Thanks, I work out. I promise it gets even better higher up.

Feeling a slap on his knee, Wade laughed, taking off his mask completely. You felt his hand still warm through the glove, moving your hood aside and stroking your hair.

— Now, do you prefer a bedtime story about unicorns or how I beheaded a guy yesterday?

The soft touch. The calming breath that synchronized with his laugh as Wade tried to recount his work yesterday as if it were a fairy tale. Your eyes began to blur at each streetlight.

Your head relaxed and rested its weight on Wilson's lap. Maybe after a tiring and stressful day, all you needed was a session of Wade talking non-stop until you fell asleep.

[shelyue99]

You see the three musketeers sit around the table here shooting the bull, so while it rolls on I'll see if I can make any sense out of this. The three are Irishmen-one Capt. Nixon, and Lt. Welsh and last of all the Major. Now Capt. Nixon is the biggest drunk I've ever seen, known, or hope to see. He's worth a small fortune, never'll have to work a lick in his life, but absolutely the most reliable man I've ever known. Welsh is as bullheaded as you'd expect an Irishman to be.

—May 16, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

At the present time we're (Nixon and I) ribbing Lt. Welsh about marrying an Irish girl by the name of Kitty Grogan. He hopes to be married inside of four months. We're carefully explaining that some 4F will grab her off before that. If he does manage to get married, we promise to steal the bride for the balance of his leave unless he hires us to protect him from others who may have the same intentions. Price is 1 qt. of scotch for Nixon and 1 qt. of ice cream for myself. He doesn't take us seriously.

—May 30, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

I've mentioned Capt. Nixon I believe, of Nixon, N.J. [W]ell I've got him writing his first letter since last Nov. to his wife. Quite a guy, he's having one hell of a time getting organized and down to work. Claims he hasn't anything to say to her, just to his dog. He has a baby boy that he's never seen, but he won't talk about his son, it's always his dog. Knowing you, why I know you could spend an enjoyable two or three hours talking about how awful he is-if you knew him. However I'll tell you he's idealistic. I've known him three years and lived and slept aside and fought with him for two. This guy loves one thing right at this stage of life: a bottle of spirits or a fight. He's OK in a fight, but Jesus, outside of that he's absolutely the most undependable man you'd ever want to find.

Since we've been overseas he's only run around with one girl. An English girl and she was anything but beautiful. However she was a good listener and companion. In fact I am not too sure but this guy might end up staying over here in England. Ah yes, things are really snafu-and don't ask me what that means.

Now here we have Welsh & Nixon mixing Vodka, rum & vermouth-oh boy it won't be long now.

—June 2, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

(Writing about the job offer at Nixon Nitration Works) “I don't count on a thing until I have it," Dick confessed, "but it sounds good."

—September 2,  1945, Letter to DeEtta

Do you know what this new regimental C.O. has gone and done? Declared me essential. Why? Well you know all those nice things one can say at a time like that. Me, with 100 points as of V-E Day, and about the only officer in the regiment who has enough points to get out, and who doesn't want any part of the army, stuck until the division goes home. Which won't be this year. Boy, do you smell smoke? Don't worry, it's just me.

Capt. Nixon left this week, which makes everything just dandy. I am about as lonesome as a lovesick swab who married a Wave on an eight hour pass.

—September 16, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

From “Hang Tough: The WWII Letters and Artifacts of Major Dick Winters”

[crimsonteaaddict]

Yandere!catboy harem… just imagine~

You recently moved into an apartment in a new city, you knew nothing about the customs, the language, or the culture of the city and only moved their because they had a large following and a lot of respect for your very niche hobby in this city. That and you decided to go to university here, taking classes in your language.

Over time you noticed that after class and work starting around six all the locals would go out causing a bustling nightlife. You didn’t know anyone and decided that joining in on drinking a beer as the sunsets overlooking the river next to your apartment was a good idea. Of course you sat alone but the neighborhood catboys who were often fed by the locals who came and left as they pleased began to noticed you all by your lonesome <3.

(Warning Yandere, Talks of real animal abuse scenarios, Minors DNI)

It started with a somewhat small excited calico, he saw you drawing by the river once and came bounding over to you before brushing up from behind you. This first interaction startled you massively but was full of energy. The kind cute seemingly innocent cat boy made you extremely happy. Finally you got to meet someone so you wouldn’t be alone… little did you know he and the others had been keeping you company from afar this entire time and not in the way the other locals coexisting with you were.

After this meeting Soda Pop as you learned his name was came up to you more often, though you didn’t speak the same language between your interactions with Soda Pop, your teachers at the university, and what you learned from grocery shopping, you were beginning to understand their language.

Soda Pop soon began meeting you in the lobby of your apartment after your classes and somehow wandering his way up to your place while you made supper. You may not have spoken the same language yet but from the words he often repeated and the words you often repeated you slowly but surely got a totally wholesome tag along-who was very good at getting his way (in less than wholesome manners).

It was only Soda Pop at first but as you hung around the catboy more the attention of a certain tough black cat was caught. Salem was originally purchased to be sacrificed, but he was lucky that after the mistreatment he had faced he managed to escape, unluckily though he developed a certain dislike for humans, even the locals who fed him. But seeing Soda Pop stick to one person for so long really made him curious, he’d already been watching you, but now he just craved to know you more.

Salem wasn’t exactly keen on talking to you right away though, so instead he followed, and soon he found his way to your doorstep where he left birds, mice and even a snake he had hunted (it was the pet snake of your neighbour, good luck explaining that to her) It took a couple weeks for you to realize these gifts weren’t from Soda Pop, and from then on you began leaving a bowl of water and food out only enticing Salem to visit more often.

Your finally kitty companion came in the form of Leo, affectionately being named by the locals after a lion, because he slept, a lot. Leo found his naps gravitating closer and closer to you as the weeks passed and it wasn’t until Salem whacked him in the face for napping too close to you and Soda Pop that he realized you must be something special. Naturally unlike Salem, Leo has no problem walking up to you and plopping himself onto you. He expects you to stay there and be his pillow. You do stay there, how could you move?

[holybibly]

hmm interesting, (different anon) please can you do san and mingi for that same type of reply. love ur blog btw!

So, bunnies, here is my opinion on San and Mingi. Again, I emphasise that this is my personal opinion and you may not agree with it. That's perfectly normal and natural, we're all entitled to say what we think.

I'll start with San. I will make a separate post for Mingi. First of all, San was the member who made me start following Ateez. I was so amazed by his beauty, and considering I've been in K-pop long enough to remember EXO's debut, that's saying something. I didn't notice the other members at all until a certain point (I'm terribly ashamed of this), as it was this kitty that completely captured my attention.

There was so much magic, exquisite, predatory and almost demonic in it that I could not deny myself. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same at the moment. Lately, the excessive sexualisation of San has begun to bother me. I no longer feel him as himself, but rather as an imposed image of a "sexy guy". I'm also not a big fan of muscles. Of course I will support anything that does make him happy and his pleasure and joy are the most important thing, but if we talk about me, for my taste San was simply in perfect physical shape in the Fireworks era and he looked more natural to me then than now. But! This is just my opinion.

His aura has changed and I think the demonic part that had me in its stranglehold has disappeared a little.

San is definitely a daddy princess, but he is also a dom of pleasure just like Hongjoong. I don't see San as rude or tough, in fact he's a softer boy to me than Wooyoung, for example.

San also gives me very clear toxic boyfriend vibes, I can literally feel it on him, but not in a harsh way, but rather in a caring way. San is suffocating you with his love, he wants to take care of his significant other all the time, he is intrusive, demands attention, possessive and clingy. Emotional connection in sex is also very important to him, he is definitely not a one-night stand.

As far as perversions go, I don't think San has a very long list, for example, I absolutely could not associate him with humiliation or manhandling, he is very respectful and well mannered, I think he is very respectful of women and it is difficult for him to overcome this in himself even during sex.

He is romantic and gentle, quite soft and I might even call him vanilla.

He gives a lot of attention and affection to his partner and your pleasure comes first for him. This doesn't mean that San can't be harsh or treat you more rudely, no, he just doesn't think it's necessary most of the time.

[42spideys]

more m!reader and leon fluff? please?

— catboy - leon s. kennedy

of course!! m.reader x leon is my brand 💪🏾

warnings: m.reader, catboy!leon, leon gives kitty kisses, absolute fluff!!

enjoy ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ !!!

leon finally came home from a mission after months of being away, you were sitting on the couch when you saw him very quickly dash through the door into your shared bedroom. you thought you were seeing shit but when you felt a gust of wind and the smell of his cologne you knew he was actually here, you got up from your comfortable spot on the couch to go into the bedroom. you saw a large clump of blankets on leon’s side of the bed, you tilted your head in confusion and walked over to the jumbled mess of blankets.

you poke once, a small shuffle with a small groan from leon. you poke twice, another groan but still no movement. you let out an exaggerated sigh, “leon, you either come out of the blanket or i rip it off you.” leon let out a small whine, you’ve never heard him whine before. “nyo…it’s-it’s far to embarrassing.”

nyo?

nyo???

did he just say fucking nyo?

you quickly rip the blankets off of leon to be met with the cutest sight in your life, he had cat ears and a tail. his ears went back in embarrassment, he covered his face with his hand and turned away from you. you just stood there, gobsmacked about the sight in front of you. without thinking you placed a gentle hand between his little ears and started petting him, leon stilled in his movement, he felt nice…oh no. did he like being pet!?

“h-hey. keep your hands off the ears mr.” leon said trying to sound tough, but it came out whiney instead. “but they’re so soft leon! and you look adorable as a kitty.” leon let out a pained, exaggerated groan while taking your waist in his arms. his entire face was flushed, his tail was swinging wildly against the bed. you’ve never seen him act like this before usually he’s the one that makes you blush, but now here he is…whining into your chest while his ears went into airplane mode.

“hurry up and lay down with me, i just came back from a mission and didn’t come back to get bullied by a boy who can’t even lift what i can.” he said trying to be big and tough, you just rolled your eyes and hoped into bed with him. he was practically on top of you, instead of kissing you he gave you kitty kisses (small licks) and soft head bumps. he was absolutely smitten by you, he loved your pets on his head, the strokes on his tail, the kisses to his head.

he secretly loved being your kitty, he loved being spoiled like a real cat. he liked being able to lay on your lap like a cat, but most of all he loved you. he loved you for always being there and taking care of him, even if you do bully him sometimes. :((

[formulawolff]

Just thinking about, imagine in the back half of this season the Williams is going through a stretch where it’s just an absolute tractor, shit box (you know the usual) and it’s at the point where even gg can’t get much out of it and it’s starting to mess with her confidence but she keeping a tough front and trying not to show that. And one race they have just an absolutely brutal quali like p20 and p17 and gg just like shuts down and locks herself in her driver’s room and James & Alex are super worried and immediately call Toto and is like please help

this is quite literally what happens in alkaline for the latter half of the season!!! (how are y'all reading my mind here? we must all be on the same wavelength)

here's a little blurb because i miss my golden girl and her grumpy team principal bf! <3 (guest appearances by james and alex!)

"how did you get my number?"

his voice is gruff, laced with sternness as the driver sucks in a sharp breath, his retort fiery.

"your girlfriend."

the team principal sits up in his seat, keeping the phone pressed to his ear, "yes? what's going on?"

"she's well," alex albon begins, exhaling, "she's not doing good. she's shut herself in her motorhome. she won't open the door for me. she won't open the door for james. fuck, even lewis and george have tried. they've had no luck. what have you been doing the last couple hours? we've all been blowing up your phone."

the team principal arches a brow, pulling the phone away from his ear. momentarily, he scrolls through the nearly dozens upon dozens of notifications that flash across the screen.

shit.

"well," toto wolff swallows the lump in his throat, scratching the base of his neck, "i was caught up in meetings with some of the execs and team back in brackley. we were on zoom for a little longer than i anticipated-"

the driver swiftly interjects, the desperation oozing in his tone with every word.

"i understand but she needs you. she won't let anyone in. i know she will though, if it's you."

"i'll be there as soon as i can," the team principal clicks the button on his mouse, shutting down his setup.

it only takes two minutes before the team principal is packed up, slamming the door to his office, marching out of the mercedes paddock.

he heads in the direction of the sprawling williams home base, chirping greetings to the various team members lingering about. he's familiar with this route, as it is one he's taken numerous times before.

making his way towards her motorhome, he recognizes a figure donned in a williams windbreaker, the hood pulled up as rain patters.

"you finally made it! i knew lover boy could come save the day!"

"yeah, yeah," the team principal waves a hand, fishing in his pocket.

the key should be here somewhere.

it clinks, and he pulls it out, inserting it into the lock. alex albon scoffs, shaking his head.

"i should have known you would have had a key."

"would you like to come with?" toto inquires, pushing the door open.

"what kind of question is that? yes. of course i am. she needs me too, you know."

the inside of the motorhome is dark, all possible lights out. the air is still, stuffy even. there's leftover food on the counter, barely even picked at.

a meow rings out through the space, the patter of paws following in suit.

a kitten,only about four months old, springs onto the counter, purring as toto pats his head, "guten abend, kitty."

"you're not doing too much emotional support are you?" alex teases the tiny animal, scooping him into his arms, "you need to be with your mommy."

"speaking of which," toto clicks his tongue, tossing the leftovers into the nearest wastebin, "she's probably in her room."

the two make their way down the hall, the kitten still in alex's embrace. clearing his throat, toto calls.

"baby, i'm here! alex is with me."

there's a muffled yell that carries, "go away."

pushing the door open, toto rolls his eyes at the sight before him, "i'm not going away. not now."

his beautiful girl is swathed in her comforter, buried in the cozy fabric. her phone is on the nightstand, charging as it was more than likely dead. her hair is manageable, but it was easy to see that she had not moved from the space in a couple of hours.

there's an opened monster can resting on the floor beside the bed, and a few clothes strewn about on the floor.

"rough day?" his voice is soft as he sits on the edge of the bed.

alex joins, sitting on the opposite side, "it was a tough qualifying."

"i know," toto murmurs. reaching out, he brushes a strand from her forehead, "it's only one race, my love. you can come back from p17."

"not in that shitbox."

a chuckle rumbles in his chest, bubbling up, "well, it's what you have to work with until you can be behind the wheel of a real car."

that earns a grumble from alex, who allows the kitten to clamber over to his mama, "you're telling me."

"you know," toto glances over to the williams driver, "we could always have you in the reserves."

"unfortunately i have my life signed away at williams," alex shrugs, "it is what is for now. nothing i haven't dealt with before."

"baby," toto leans forward, planting a soft kiss on her temple, "you need to get up. let's get some food, yeah? i know you're probably not feeling it but how about a double date? i'll have alex get ahold of lily."

"she's worried about you too," alex chimes in, "we all are."

the mass of blanket stirs, wrinkling her nose, "ugh, maybe."

"come on now, schatzi," toto places a hand on her shoulder, "let's get up. get some fresh air."

"only if i get to pick the restaurant."

toto can't help but feel the corners of his curl into a quaint smile as the kitten burrows into next to his mom, the tiny purrs flooding the space.

"of course, baby. of course."

[coupleoffanfics]

Gotham Isekaied Reader

I have an idea. It's nothing new. I wrote nearly 5 pages of this idea, but I'm too scared to post it since it's filler and I even drew a cover. So I will ramble about this idea through headcanon. Some Jerome x Reader, I’m sorry. I can’t help myself. CW: One mention of suicide.

y/n wakes up to find that her life has gotten a major upgrade. Any flaws that her family has is erased. Did mom drink away stress? Now she doesn’t even touch alcohol. Dad isn’t smoking away his life. Her older brother is a law-abiding citizen who is studying to become a lawyer. Her younger brother is more positive about life and growing up in a home that they wished they had.

Not to mention that they’re rich. She no longer lives in a bad neighborhood and sleeps in a snazzy mansion.

Life is looking up until y/n turns on the TV with a news story about a man killing corrupt people with weather balloons.

She sits there thinking, ‘This was nice, but I should be getting back home.’

Maybe y/n’s close friends with Bruce beforehand. That’s when she realizes that she has to learn about the other y/n’s life. She can’t risk telling anyone about “we’re in a shitty TV show” without everyone considering throwing her into a mental institution. Tough luck because she ends up in Arkham regardless.

She writes down plotlines that she remembers. Making files on the character that she has met. Her files are hidden away in her room and aren't brought up later down the line when a certain person finds them.

How y/n ends up in Arkham is complicated. I want y/n to be completely sane through our POV, so she’s not going to be “I’m so insane and quirky”. Maybe she’s framed or killed someone in self-defense. Well, okay, I have thought out what gets her thrown into Arkham, but I don’t think anyone would find it interesting.

During her trial, the prosecutor will use her history of depression and suicide attempts to paint her as a homicidal. The whole trial is fishy, yet ends with her being locked up.

Bruce believes y/n when she says she hasn't done anything and promises to get her out of there. Legally of course.

Alfred probably tries to keep Bruce from visiting because Arkham has a reputation and doesn’t want him to be anywhere near there. The poor boy is going through too much in a short amount of time. 

So Bruce will send Selina to deliver anything. Or they both run away to visit y/n. When they come back to the manor and Alfred is questioning them, they both lie by saying that they’re somewhere else.

Bruce just wants to make sure his bestie is alright. Selina is just along for the ride but might visit y/n even when she doesn’t need to.

While in Arkham y/n is vibing in her little corner when Jerome starts bugging her. Might tell him about some plotlines just to see if anyone would believe her.

Jerome just laughs it off and starts orbiting y/n because she’s interesting. She tends to ramble and mumble to herself, for some reason he finds it so cute.

“You’re kind of funny, but I wouldn’t call you a joker.” She says before thinking, ‘Because legally you aren’t him. Thanks a lot, higher-ups.’

He writes about her in his diary and uses any stickers that she gives him. ‘Yeah, she's weird. Calling people characters and saying that we aren’t real, but she’s my little weirdo. I also got another pack of Hello Kitty stickers from her.’ Then he proceeds to doodle her with crayons.

When Theo Galavan surprise adopts them, Jerome starts taking y/n’s words more seriously. Still doesn’t believe her when she says he and everyone aren’t real. Like how is that possible? He feels real, oh whatever he has no time for that.

At the manor, Bruce is freaking out and dialing Jim begging him to save his bestie from that homicidal ginner. Theo has to make it seem like y/n is a hostage since she refuses to do any killing and Jerome has scary dog privilege.

‘They aren’t real. They aren’t people.’ She’d try to tell herself, but she just can’t bring herself to try to hurt someone. y/n is one of those freaks who try to drive safely in GTA without running over anyone or anything.

She doesn’t think that her words mean anything and that everything will follow the script. Until she tells Jerome to take an extra lighter with him. She’s chilling by herself when the news shows footage of a burnt bus and the news anchor talking about the cheerleaders who lost their lives.

That’s when y/n starts thinking over everything she’s said. She debates whether or not she should tell Jerome about Theo’s betrayal.

‘The show does start declining in ratings when he’s killed off. I could be doing the writers a favor, but what about the people? No, characters. They’re just characters! They aren’t real!’

In the end, Jerome is killed off and she’s put back into Arkham. Everyone is surprised by how calm she is after Jerome’s death. Not upset or anything. Like weren’t they close? Maybe their relationship was more one-sided.

Jim will question y/n and she might let a few things slip. Most brush her words off as they believe that she has some sort of Stockholm syndrome and is angry at Theo for killing her captor.

Back at Arkham, y/n yells, “FUCK!” When seeing Hugo Strange.

When Theo is dealt with, Jim will visit her or send her a thank you card for pointing him in the right direction regarding the investigation.

I’m getting tired and I might continue writing about this.

But I was going to have y/n be free from Arkham when some evidence regarding her case comes out. y/n will be outwardly passive throughout the story.

In the end, I was going to have y/n be the one who becomes Joker. Maybe she falls into a tub of chemicals. Don’t worry darling you aren’t going to be deformed like Jeremiah at the end. You’ll look different, but still smoking hot. 😘

Anyway seeing the physical change, her dwindling hope of getting back home, and her mental state being worn out. She decides to step up and take the name of Joker.

Bruce angst all the way. Maybe angst for other characters, but I could see this tearing him apart. He’s forced to watch his closest friend be replaced by a cackling monster. To then eventually start fighting against her.

She doesn’t react to being called y/n anymore, but she’ll give Batman/Bruce a melancholy look if he calls her by that. He doesn’t call her y/n often because that wasn’t y/n. y/n l/n was dead and there was no way she was coming back.

The theory of Joker being sane will ring true to y/n. She knows this isn’t real. It’s just fiction and any good piece of fiction needs a good villain. Since she’s not making it back home, she’ll make things fun.

Or multiple endings because those are always fun.

“Jerome? Jeremiah? Never heard of them.”