#v; a hero in her own right

[sxs-a2]

@toranoya (Denki) - REQUESTED 

Nezuko appears at the side of UA Academy. There is intense security, but for a valid reason. This is villains favorite places to provoke trouble. The girl did not step inside, not like she could without alerting the alarms. She lays on a branch of a tree in her Kimetsu Academy uniform. She wears her signature FOX MASK from her costume so the press surrounding the front of the school would not recognize her. 

🌸 → ❝ Shit, there are a lot of reporters out that. I wish at least one of them would come to our school, huh Kuraihime? ❞

Her Karusugai Crow sits on the girl’s head and watches the chaos as the UA students try to get pass. 

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-”��

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.

words: 8.5k.

notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

The past couple of days have been a lot. 

To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan. 

He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him. 

Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?

That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope. 

Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time. 

“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”

“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name. 

Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours. 

Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you. 

He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero. 

He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat. 

Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life. 

Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being. 

“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed. 

“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable. 

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.  

“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts. 

His heart especially, and now it aches. 

He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless. 

“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.”

“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”

You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds. 

“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. 

“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”

He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years. 

“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”

He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes. 

“Yeah. I did.”

“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”

You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”

He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member. 

“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something. 

“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”

This will kill him. He will die in this Void. 

“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”

The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly. 

“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”

He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?

“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost. 

“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier. 

It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle. 

“I know.”

Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him. 

The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness. 

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.” 

Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline. 

“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”

Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground. 

“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further. 

“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much. 

He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable. 

“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”

You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look. 

“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead. 

“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it’s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”

It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too. 

He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. 

“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks. 

“You might not like the answer.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”

“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”

He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless. 

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea. 

“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”

He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air. 

You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it. 

“Give me your hand.”

This is a bad idea. 

He does anyway. 

You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size. 

“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”

Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands. 

He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his. 

“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile. 

“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”

“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”

“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”

When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?

You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt. 

He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough. 

Yes. That’s enough. It has to be. 

When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate. 

But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going. 

When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture. 

He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest. 

His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door. 

He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking. 

The second time you’ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”

He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm. 

“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his. 

“I am.”

He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it. 

He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear. 

“Wanna get a coffee?”

You pull back to meet his gaze. 

“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”

He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling. 

“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”

“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.

“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”

The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.

He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system. 

Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him. 

You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug. 

“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”

Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh. 

“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”

“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice. 

“You do need to try it plain f—”

He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Real mature, bub.”

“Grouch.”

“Contrarian.”

“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.

“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”

“I get that.”

He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with. 

“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”

“She settling in okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle. 

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”

A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show. 

“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”

He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one. 

“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”

He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold. 

“I’d like that,” he manages. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee. 

The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again. 

Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it. 

You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

He sleeps pretty well nowadays. 

The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened. 

“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.

Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion. 

His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you. 

Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week. 

The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again. 

But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything. 

One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.

The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise. 

You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this. 

You’d show your Logan off to the world. 

You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly. 

He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile. 

“Good to see you, Logan.”

“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development. 

He comes around more and more often. 

Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten. 

“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you. 

It’s a picture of the two of you. 

Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out. 

Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with. 

“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.

He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides. 

“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”

Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well. 

But not any more. 

You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.

Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.

Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about. 

So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it. 

“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”

Logan fixes him with a look. 

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment. 

“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”

You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you. 

It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness. 

He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him. 

There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory. 

It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken. 

There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same. 

That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass. 

You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool. 

He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh. 

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”

You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning. 

His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp. 

“Logan…”

Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe. 

He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.

He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him. 

With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt. 

Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.

You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.  

“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily. 

“Old man,” he chuckles. 

“Not mutually exclusive.”

He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.  

When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands. 

Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.

Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.

“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”

Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.

Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.

“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.

You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.

“Wanna ride you…”

“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel. 

When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.

Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.

“Logan…” 

Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.

“Logan. I love you. I love you.”

Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.

“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.

Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.

He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.

You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.

You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.

“Hey.”

He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.

“Hey.”

“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate. 

“I know. So did I.”

“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”

“Probably.”

“But let’s not.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight. 

The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss. 

It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for. 

And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here. 

He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods. 

You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove. 

“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”

He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.

“Hey handsome,” you chuckle. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”

Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him. 

Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces. 

“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work. 

“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”

She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you. 

“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life. 

“This is a great one,” you declare. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku

TW: NSFW, dubcon, captive darling, abuse of power, coercion, deepthroating, penetration v, threesome, degradation

fem reader

Thinking of pro-heroes Dynamight and Deku finally capturing the villain they’ve long been seeking, only to offer her a get-out-of-jail-free card if she gives them a little something in return…

You’re on your knees between them.

“Aww, now that’s a pretty sight~ ain’t it, Deku?”

“Agree, Kachan~ who’d've known the little felon could be so sweet~”

It’s but a small favor in regard to what they’re giving you in exchange. Suck their cocks, and you go free. You’ve done worse for less before. Being a criminal has never come without costs.

Still… the whole thing is so embarrassing. Mouth wide open with their leaky cockheads hugging for space inside it. They’re way too big to both have room, but they don’t seem all that concerned by it.

“C’mere,” The blonde groans, taking your head for himself – angling your plump lips back and forth on his shaft, sucking his teeth as you suckle on the fat veins found there. “That’s it, street scum- earn that freedom…”

Another weighty palm drapes your head, and you’re steered over to the other throbbing member. He nudges his tip inside your mouth and has the plush head fuck the pocket of your cheek, eerily smiling down at the sight. “Street scum is a bit harsh, isn’t it? I mean, look at that face~” He purrs, petting the abused cheek he was bulging.

Your hair is pulled in the other direction again, and you pop off the one in your mouth only to be invaded by the other again – this time deeper – and deeper again. He uses both hands to hold you down. 

“Still only useful for one thing-” He growls, and you gag, spit bubbles frothing around the shaft as your throat tightens up.

When he lets go, you jerk back with a cough – both your palms splayed flat on the ground, spluttering with hiccups, spit drooping down your chin while sipping sharp breaths that burn in your lungs.

“Aw- where’d all that confidence go, hm?” His hand tangles back in your hair and angles your face up again – now riddled with pretty deep-throat tears. Lips bloated and shivering with short shuddering inhales and exhales.

“’Think the poor thing bit off a little more than she could swallow…” The other man muses, grabbing your jaw and angling you his way again, pushing his slicken cockhead passed your lips. 

He drives just as deep as the former one did, aided by all four of their hands pushing you down until your nose pressed into the stiff muscles of his pelvis, buried in the ticklish green curls there – feeling his cock bend down the gorge of your throat. It does an excited jump each time you gag.

He pulls out slowly – but not all the way – looking down at you as you suck in breaths around the chub of his grith.

“We can always test ‘nother of yer’ holes if it gets too much for yah?” The blonde husks, tapping the weight of himself against your forehead, resting his balls in your hair.

“Don’t patronize her- I think a hardened criminal can handle this much...” The one taking space in your mouth says – beginning to slide himself all the way back down again, hitting your uvula like a punching bag with his balls slapping wetly against the slobber on your chin.

Your hands brace themselves against the stiff muscles on his thighs, feeling them flex through the spandex of his tight uniform. You close your eyes, squeezing them tight as he bores down your jugular again. Spluttering up spit and taking desperate breaths once you’re released.

You’re not given much time before another fist finds your hair again – though this time, your own hands come up to protect you – keeping yourself at arms-length by bracing against the oncoming hips.

“Wah-wait- break- just-” You blub, and the cock slides up your face instead, tapping its hefty weight against your cheek and temple.

“Hm, maybe you were right, Kachan. Maybe I was overestimating her…” The green-haired one mused, his voice sounding suggestive – followed by a soft scoff from the one resting his cock on your face.

“Okay then, up we go, lil’ crook-” He leaned down and grabbed you by the arm, lifting you from the floor. “Wouldn’t wanna make yah pass out, after all...”

He spun you around so your ass was pressed against his crotch, making you rest palms-first against the other man’s swole chest – standing tightly between them while the blonde behind you balled your dress up around your waist.

“No, wait- you’ll still let me go, right?” You stutter, reeling from the feel of his fat shaft, wet with your drool where it slid up between your crack while he softly humped his hips into your rear.

The one in front took your chin. “Oh- don’t worry~ let us have our fun, and we promise no prison.”

The cock is tapped on your asscheek whilst its owner places wet hot kisses up your neck. “Still up for it, hm?” He gruffs hotly at your ear, holding you steady by the hip whilst stroking himself in the other.

You bite your lips, brows doing little tremoring motions as you quickly try and mull it over in your head. Ending up with giving them a little nod.

He bites your earlobe with a rusty chuckle. “That’s a smart cookie.” Ushering you up to stand atop the other man’s shoes, making you just the right height for him to send his shaft down the cleft of your butt. Sliding it in between your thighs, rubbing himself against the puff of your cunt through the lacy silk of your panties.

He’s kind enough to get you a little warmed up first before peeling them aside and lightly slapping his manhood up against the slit. But the way you gasp is just way too cute for him to hold back – making him run his fat cockhead through your lips, back and forth to slick you up, rubbing over your clit – forcing an involuntary buck of your hips. 

He hums at the movement, finding your hole and kissing it with his tip, groaning out a “Yer’ way too pretty for prison…” against your ear – playing with your entrance without pushing in just yet, giving the ill-prepped thing a warning of what to handle. “Poor doll would be everyone’s favorite lil’ jailbird.”

You croon with a whimper when he splits you open, even as he does so slowly – and the other guy takes the opportunity to catch your mouth with his. 

“Wouldn’t stand a chance against the other inmates…” He moans, sliding his hand from your chin to your neck, holding it just tight enough to encourage you to keep your head up – as he slips his own thickness between the doughy fat of your inner thighs, rubbing over your clit on its way.

It makes you ache around the member bottoming out inside you. “Not to mention the guards…” He continued. “They’d all have a ball with fresh ‘n’ tight meat like you.” 

You moan into the mouth in front of you, panting on his lips when he speaks. “It would be too cruel of us to send you to a place like that…”

“Despite it bein’ where all you wrongdoers belong.” The hands placed on your hips keep you planted as he pulls out and lolls forward again.

Your thighs shudder from the feel of it, squeezing the one caught between them tightly. “Poor thing would get passed around from morning to lights out.” His words pour into your mouth where it gapes open – feeling his ridges and veins catch your clit – making your lower belly coil like an adder – clawing your nails into his chest in order to pursue it.

“Tied to the bars of yer’ cell for everyone to have a go.” The one behind grunted, kneading himself into your womb – fucking you deep and slow enough to feel you flutter on his length. “We’ll be a lot nicer with yah.”

 “Promise, sweet thing.” The one in front chuckles when you cum – shaking on both their cocks – weak in their hands – resting your sweet face against his chest with blank eyes glossed over from pleasure.

You’re not going to prison, but you’ll soon find out if you agree that staying locked up in their house as their personal pet is much different or better…

[imadhatt3r]

You know what? That one line from that Phantom Liberty ending where V can call Johnny a "big ol' softie"? They're right. They're absolutely right.

Johnny is a softie. He goofs off on multiple occasions in V's field of view despite knowing that nobody can see him, probably to his own and V's amusement. He screams on the rollercoaster and grins like crazy at V. He adores Nibbles. He wanted to check on Kerry when he heard that he was suicidal. He finally took Rogue on that car cinema date and can flirt with her in a goofy way straight out of his favorite "Bushido" movies. He has fun on the reunion concert and gives Kerry his DeLuze Orphean as a goodbye gift. He narrates that one quest like a noir narrator just to mess with V. He understands Barry's grief over his tortoise. He's respectful when watching Joshua's crucifiction. He's nice to Spider Murphy and calls her "Spider". He sheepishly apologizes to Alt in "The Sun" ending. He puffs up his chest when Denny says she misses him. He's fuming over the kids in "Talent Academy" being treated like products, probably because it reminds him of how he was treated in the military. He feels for Solomon Reed because he sees himself in him. He feels for Songbird because her circumstances remind him of V's.

And speaking of, he really loves V. He just loves them so much; He's always on watch for any danger and does his best to give them advice. He promises that he will do everything he can to cure them. He will encourage them to take a break if they're feeling sick. He will attempt the most dangerous stunts to get them to Mikoshi. He promises V to let them wipe him from the Relic and he keeps that promise. He will realize that they're his only loved one left and will ask for the last chance, and when he gets it he does everything he can to make them proud and happy. He accepts their decision no matter what it is, because it's their body and life. His worst fear is getting to live again, but without his friend/partner/soulmate/beloved (depending on interpretation) with him. He's proud to be able to call himself V's friend. He's proud of them. He's sad that he won't be able to see how V will change. He choses to stay calm and positive before he will be innevitably killed so that his beloved V will live to keep them calm and comfort them.

That whole hardass, asshole act? It's a ruse, it's a front, it's a persona he had to put on due to bad childhood, PTSD from being drafted as a teenager, seeing other teenagers die horribly around him, losing his limb and being branded with the Arasaka logo he did his best to scratch out and being tossed into a rockstar life of drinking, drugs and fans when he was likely not much older.

He might fight it, but he will never be the detached, emotionless action hero he wants to be, because that's not at all who he is! I think that his slight grin when V says it is one of relief, that he was able to show his most vulnerable, tender and gentle side to the one person he holds dear and not be punished for it, playfully teased but with clear sympathy on V's part. After decades of struggle with who he is being so different from who he wants to be, he can finally be seen for who he is, and who he would be if his life went oh so differently.

[reareaotaku]

Superboy vs Robin

Summary: The life of 3 best friends that get confused when realizing they have a crush on their other friend, Y/n Prince, daughter of Wonder Woman Pairings: Jon Kent x Fem! Reader, Damian Wayne x Fem! Reader Tw: Love V [NOT TRIANGLE!!! IT'S A 'V'], Slow Burn? Taglist: N/a

Pt II: Love in High Places | Pt III: Apple of My Eye

[This probably would have been better to write as a multi-part story instead of a one-shot, so I can really get the slow burn and such... Might make a part 2 if yall like this? Also hope this isn't bad because I've been wanting to write this for over a year....]

You had met the two boys when in the league's spaceship. Your mother was on business and sent you off to do, as she put it 'Children things', before taking off with Batman and Green Lattern. You rolled your eyes at her dismissal, but decided to find something else to do. Besides, hero work was boring anway. Nothing interesting about discussing rules and such anyway.

You walked around the large spaceship, before coming across a particular room. In the room where two kids, boys, around your age you didn't recognize. One of the boys, the one in darker clothes, must have felt your presence, because the second you stepped in he turned around.

Damian knew who you were. He knew who everyone was. He would look like a real fool if he didn't know the daughter of Wonder-woman. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Jon.

You awkwardly stand at the door way, now having both the boys' attention on you. You awkwardly wave, "Hey."

Jon's face lights up and he rushes to you. He loved meeting new people and you were nothing short of pretty. "Hi!" He grabs your hand, engulfing it with his own. "I'm Jon, Jon Kent."

"Y/n Prince." You tried to keep up with his handshake, but he was fast and strong, and by the time you could gather what was going on he had already let your hand go.

You looked past Jon back at the emo boy, but he was just staring at you. Jon looked over to see what you were looking at, before gesturing towards his friend.

"Oh, that's Damian. Don't mind him. He's.... Shy."

"I'm not shy. I just don't have any reason to speak to her."

Jon gasps, before glaring at his friend, "That's rude, Damian." He turns back to you, his face flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry about him. He's not good with people."

You nod, still staring at Damian. "He's Batman's kid, right? The son of those assassins?"

Damian's eyes widen, but only for a brief second. He could let such an emotion out.

"My mother mentioned it a while ago. She didn't say much, just that you were... Different."

"Yeah, he is different." Jon jokes, causing you both to chuckle, but Damian just rolls his eyes.

---

You and Jon stuck your faces to the fish tank. Neither of you had ever seen a fish tank before. You were both stuck in the house by your parents in fear of you revealing yourselves on accident. Your parents have isolated you both- Even Damian was isolated, but he wasn't as naive and foolish as you and Jon.

"Oh, that one's purple," You point to a triangle-shaped fish.

"No, it's a dark blue," Jon argues, causing you to side-eye him.

You rolled your eyes, but don't respond.

"Hey, Y/n."

"Yeah, Jon?"

He looks over at you, wide eyed and excited, "You ever been Tire-rolling?"

"Tire-rolling?"

---

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Jon-" You try and reason, as your hands grip the tire's rubber.

He smiles, his hands gripping the tire, "Oh, it'll be fun. Promise!" He then pushes you, but instead of pushing you at a normal strength, he accidentally uses his super strength and sends you flying. His eyes widen as his mouth drops, before he runs after you, hoping you don't get hurt.

You scream as the tire jumps and hits multiple things while going faster than you've ever gone before. You grip the inside of the tire so hard, that you can feel your nails digging into your palm. You hear cars honking, but there's nothing you can do, without using your powers.

Though, luck must have been on your side, because while you're mid way in the air, something goes through the tire and harshly pulls you down. Your face slams into the tire, your hands ripping the tire's rubber. The tire falls flat on the ground and you sit up, rubbing your head.

Above you was the one and only, Damian Wayne. He was in his school uniform and he was looking down at you annoyed. In his hand was a grappling hook, which you assume he used to save you.

You quickly stand up, brushing off your clothes, "Uh, thanks."

Before Damian can respond, like he would, you hear Jon calling out to you.

"Y/n! Oh my god, Y/n! Are you okay?" He's nearly out of breath as he runs up to you before he stops. "Oh. Uh, hi Damian."

There's a moment of awkward silence, before Jon goes back to his normal self.

"What are you doing, Damian?"

"Nothing." Damian is quick, calculated even.

You had only known the two boys for a few months, but it felt like you had known Jon your whole life and this moment felt like the first time meeting Damian. Though, Damian was busy, so you couldn't really blame him. He was the son of a man with an empire and an assassination group. He was bound to be tied up from time to time.

"Uh, do you want to hang out, Damian?"

Damian is taken by surprise. You wanted to hang out? With him? Why?

Jon went to speak for Damian, but Damian interrupts him, "Sure."

"Really?" Both you and Jon speak at the same time, before you both blush out of embarrassment.

"I mean, great. Wow, okay. Yeah, let's hang out."

---

Damian groaned, before laying down on the roof. He could hear Jon and Y/n snickering to themselves, probably over something stupid. He closes his eye, their voices slowly fading from his mind. He didn't know how you had convinced him to hang out with you on a roof in the middle night.

He didn't like you, so he didn't know why he listened to you. He had no reason to care about what you said or thought, but yet here he was.

You had some kind of pull over him and he didn't know why. There was nothing about you that was different from the other superheroes. Sure, you were pretty, but so was Starfire, Raven, Super-woman, etc.

He looks over at you as you lean on Jon's shoulder, whispering some secret into his ear. He wondered what secrets you two were sharing. Maybe if he asked you'd let him in? He didn't know.

He takes his eyes off of you and looks back at the sky. It was a dark and cloudy night, like most nights in Gotham. Though, unlike most nights, it was quiet; Almost peaceful.

It bothered Damian. More than he'd like to admit. He felt an ich in his skin, like he was supposed to be doing something, but there was nothing to do. There was no fight to fight or crime to solve. It was peaceful for the first time in a long time.

---

Jon liked you, a lot. Like more than he's ever liked someone in his life. He feels immense emotions when he's around you, even if your mother doesn't like him. Though, your mother didn't like men period.

He was thankfully you didn't receive that quality from your mother. You were much nicer and happier than your mother. But that could be because you weren't tortured in the same way your mother was by the women of Themyscira.

In fact, they adored you. They treated you like some kind of goddess and cherished you. Jon understood though. You were perfect- At least to him you were. He thought everyone should treat you like the perfect person you are because you deserve nothing less.

---

You were alone with Damian for the first time in all the years you've known each other. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn't know how you were going to tell them you were going to be leaving for Themyscira.

Your mother wanted you to be trained by the Amazons to be able to control your powers and abilities. While she herself was banished, she knew they would welcome you with welcome arms.

You knew Jon would take it hard, but it was only going to be for a year. Just a year. A year you'd be away from your best friends. So, there was a part of you that hoped if you told Damian first, it'd be easier to break it to Jon.

"So, when do you leave?"

You looked over at Damian, confused, "Leave?"

"I heard your mother talking to my father. She said she was sending you to Themyscira to train. So," He sits up on his bed, making direct eye contact with you, "when do you leave?"

"Next month. I'll be gone for a year."

"A year?"

"Yeah. My mom wanted me to stay for 3, but I was able to talk her down from it."

"Have you told Jon?"

"No..."

"Well, you know he's not going to react well."

"Yeah. That's why I've been procrastinating it."

"Can I write you?"

You frown, "No. The island is cut off from the world. So, no contact at all. Not even with my mom."

He now frowns, but says nothing more.

---

You sigh, leaning on your hand, your sword tossed on the ground. Before you stood Philippus, your mentor.

"Princess Y/n, what is bothering you so?"

You couldn't tell her you missed your friends. If she knew they were boys you knew you would get scolded. The Amazons didn't like men, because they were chaos and destruction and they were peaceful. A part of you understood, because you've seen the terrible things men can do, but your friends- they weren't like those men.

"Nothing... Just tired."

She takes your answer, even though she knows you're lying. You were frustrated and annoyed. You had been here for a month and found yourself making no progress. This was pointless.

You could have been with your friends, but here you were on some stupid island. You wanted to your friends.

"You know, if you don't get these down in the upcoming year, you'll have to stay."

You straighten up and glare at the woman. "No, I won't-"

Philippus quickly turns around, looking at you offended, "Excuse me?"

"Nothing." You quickly respond not wanting to repeat yourself.

She huffs, rolling her eyes, but decides to leave the conversation.

---

It had been a year since you were forced, by your mother, to train on the Themyscira Island. They wanted you to know how to use your powers to the fullest potential. It was fine... But you missed your friends. You wondered what they were doing. You wondered if they missed you too.

---

Jon was estatic. You were finally going to return from the island. Though, there was a part of him that was worried that you wouldn't remember them or even worse, you would hate them.

"You worry too much," Damian told him.

Jon sighs, trying to collect himself, "I'm just worried." Jon fiddles on his toes, as he repeated looks out of the window, hoping to see you pull up. Though, you were no where to be found. He walks away from the window, his shoulders dropping. "How far is that place?"

"Themyscira? It's a few weeks by boat, but she'll be here soon. She's home now."

Jon lightens up, "Home?"

"Yeah, she won't be here for a few more hours."

Jon glares at Damian, "You had me here looking like an idiot!"

Damian chuckles, "Yeah. I did, didn't I?"

---

Damian wasn't surprised by your appearance, unlike Jon. Damian had already seen you, without you knowing of course. You think he'd let you leave without any kind of contact? He knew everything, thanks to his connections. Though, nothing could compare to you really being in front of you.

Jon was the first to hug you. His arms squeezed you tightly, nearly causing you to lose your breath. He didn't want to let you go- Just hold you forever. He didn't want you leaving forever, but he was forced to let you go.

"You look great, Y/n."

You smile, a blush forming, "You too, Jon." You look around Jon to see Damian, who was avoiding eye contact. It almost reminded you of when you had first met the boys. "No hug, Damian?"

Damian finally looks at you, his natural glare on his face. Unlike Jon, who had let his hair grow out, Damian still had shorter hair, but his features were sharp. Though, that didn't surprise you. What did take you by surprise though is how much he looked like his father.

While Jon looked like a mix of Clark and Lois, Damian just looked like his father. Well, minus his golden skin- He got that from his mother.

Speaking of Jon, you felt him squeeze your bi-cep. You looked at him confused and he blushed.

"Uh, what are you doing, Jon?"

"Your biceps. They're like... Huge." He's fascinated by your arms, even comparing it to his own. While he was naturally strong, because of his powers, you had trained relentlessly for a year and it showed when your arms were bigger than his.

You chuckled at his amusement, before his eyes lit up, "Ah, Y/n you've missed out on so much- Come on," He grabs your arm, leading you inside the headquaters of the Justice League. You are stopped though when Damian grabs your arm that Jon didn't have. Jon looks back, wondering why you stopped when realizing Damian had grabbed you.

"Jon, why don't you head up. I just want to talk to Y/n."

Jon seems reluctant, but you turn to him, "I'll catch up. Promise."

He sighs, but ultimately goes up the stairs and inside the building.

"You look nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That means a lot coming from you, you know?"

Damian avoids eye contact. He's worried that you might see all his emotions, feelings and thoughts. He didn't want you knowing his darkest thoughts. "Yeah.. Uh, Jon missed you a lot... Obviously. Um..." Damian had never been like this- Lost for words. He always knew what to say. He had everything calculated, but now... Well, he felt lost. He felt your stare on him, waiting for him to finish, but he felt his tongue felt twisted. "It's good to have you back."

"Yeah, well, it's good to be back. You know, I've missed you a lot... And Jon. I've missed you both a lot."

Damian finally looks at you. Your eyes bleeding into his own. For a moment it felt like you two were the only ones in the world. Everything else was just dark and all that was left was you. That was until another voice spoke.

"Y/n."

You both looked up to see your mother. She gestured for you to come inside and you looked back at Damian.

"Well, I guess that I have to go."

"Yeah... I'll see yah."

"Yeah... you will."

You rush up the stairs, trying to stop the blush from forming on your face. You were so embarrassed and felt like the conversation was stupid. You wished you could have done it differently, but it was Damian. You were sure he wasn't as pressed about it as you.

If only you knew how much your life was about to change forever- All thanks to teenage boys' puberty.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Fight Training

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin has been practicing non stop to learn the art of Kali stick fighting for his upcoming role as Feyd Rautha for Dune Part Two.

Austin is so invested in his craft he comes home physically exhausted and begins a cycle of only cuddles, showers, and sleep with you.

Without sex you begin to lust for him. Your cravings for his body reach fever pitch when he returns home after a training session still sweaty.

This time you refuse to let him shower and sleep instead you make him submit and satisfy both of your sexual urges.

Established relationship girlfriend

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Female in heat• unsuspecting Austin•female sexual aggression• sub Austin•coercive edging on Austin• dirty talk •Oral sex on Austin• breast play•nipple play•clit play•P in V• simultaneous orgasms• cream pie •aftercare

Master List ••• Upcoming List

Thank you for this request. I have a glitch where I can’t post the story with it! But please enjoy 💝

Fight Training

Austin finishes his training with Roger Yuan for the day. It is in preparation for his latest film Dune Part Two. He has been cast to play the villain Feyd Rautha. A bald and menacing character who is a psychotic swordsman.

Austin has learned the art of Kali stick fighting with Roger over the last few months and is in near perfection of the skill. When they practice now instead of sticks they have upgraded to stunt blades.

Austin as usual has been intensely focused and highly determined to get every aspect right. The fighting team of the film began to take notice of Austin’s natural ability within the first week.

Now at the final stage even Roger compliments him “You pick up on the skill masterfully as if you have been doing this for years Austin” He affirms making Austin beam with pride.

On this day in particular Austin perfectly completed the choreography and flawlessly swept kicked his stunt stand in for Timothee Chalamet, who will play the hero Paul Atreides.

Roger stepped in to test his command of the routine for the film and Austin matched his pace perfectly once again.

At the end of the training session Austin still isn’t done practicing. He wants to go over a section with Roger where he presses the blade inches from his own eye.

They get into stance Roger kneeling forward pushing the blade towards Austin’s eye as Austin holds the handle with him and tries to resist being stabbed.

The stunt team gathers around because of how dangerous the move is even with a stunt blade. “You’re controlling how close the blade is going” Roger warns seeing how Austin is allowing the sharp point closer than necessary to his eye.

“Well let me see …” Austin says cutting himself short as the blade tip actually pierces lightly into his orbital socket. The stunt team begins panicked murmuring.

“Okay there it is” Austin says calmly knowing exactly how close the blade can get and corrects himself pressing it away from his eye.

Everyone is on pins and needles that Austin would take such a risk but Austin just laughs looking over at their worried faces “ I was just trying to see” he says through a smile setting them at ease.

The training session concludes after Austin’s last minute request and everyone begins to say their farewells to leave the fight studio.

Roger pats Austin on the back. “You have been non stop training Austin and it shows, even at home you are practicing?” Roger asks to confirm.

“Yes” Austin confirms . “Even at home, every minute I can. My girlfriend really enjoys the show” Austin admits grinning. Roger smiles back to him “Go home to her now, we start filming next week. Soon everyone who watches the movie will enjoy your skill” He says proudly.

Austin gets into his black Audi covered in sweat. He wears a black shirt and matching sweats. His shirt has white and green lettering on it which reads “Tad’s Chicken & dumplings” a restaurant popular in Oregon.

He blasts the AC as he drives home playing death metal to stay in focus for the inherent evil nature of his movie character.

When he arrives to his Los Angeles hills estate he looks forward to rinsing off in his elaborate shower before crashing in exhaustion with you on the couch or the king size bed to rest.

Pheromones

Austin enters the front door as usual but this time you come to hug him which you haven’t done before. He likes to hug you after he’s showered and clean and tries to stop you from getting covered in his sweat. “Baby I’m soaked I worked out so hard today look at me.” He says tugging his damp shirt.

The pheromones emitting from him drive you wild today. All of his muscles are bulging and he is glistening in sweat. His blue eyes flash with excitement to see you and his full lips and cheeks remain flushed pink which is his tell-tale sign he’s worked out too hard.

He finally sees your sexual desire for him as you continue to advance. He tries to avert your intentions away, he wants to shower first and be clean for you. “Baby…” he says with a wary tone as he places his hands out in a gesture to calm you.

“Come here Austin !” You command him smiling at each other as he makes you give chase. He quickly walks backwards through the living room with his arms outstretched keeping you at a distance. “Baby calm down” he says playfully.

He makes quick glances at the path behind him ensuring it’s clear as he walks backwards trying to keep you at bay.

Deep down you know you are going to pounce on him. You can see he is in a weakened state after his extreme training and you can easily over power his physical strength at the opportune moment.

You crave him, he has been busy and tired for days on end. The night before last he cuddled you to sleep. Last night he didn’t have sex with you due to his exhaustion from training. This morning he left you in bed because he woke up too tired. You’ve been without him for far too long.

Now seeing him wet with sweat as he smiles playfully staring into your eyes makes a surge of your pent up sexual desire rise for him. You lunge him just as he backs to the couch making him fall onto it.

You climb his body and attack his mouth first. He whimpers not wanting to give in but he can’t resist you and surrenders into your kisses clutching your head in his hands kissing you in return.

He breaks the kiss and grins staring into your eyes. “Did you miss me baby?” He asks knowingly and you smile in return. “Yes I missed you and I want to reward your for all the hard work you've been doing. I see you fight training in our courtyard everyday and it drives me wild Austin you look so good.” You admit and trail your hand down his shirt to lift the hem. You plunge your hand under the band of his sweats and begin massaging the head of his softened cock.

“Fuck baby!” He chokes out as his body tenses trying to stop the mixed signals of exhaustion and arousal surging through his body.

His head finally falls back into submission for arousal and he relaxes as your hand slowly rubs up and down his thick long soft cock. “I know you’re tired Austin but you deserve a reward.” You say peering down into his softened blue eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he nods yes and gives in to you.

His panting increases as you gently squeeze and stroke his cock until he is semi hard.

You climb on top of him straddling his hips and slowly grind your pussy on his length. “Baby you’re so…hot for me…-you must need my cock in you…badly” he pants out as he grabs your waist.

“Yes Austin I need you so badly you look so good. Im aching to have you inside of me” you respond as you work your hips in a rhythm pressing your pussy against his large cock as it hardens solid.

“Thats it baby …fuck -you’re getting me so hard…I-I’m gonna satisfy you completely… I..I’m gonna make you cum…I’m sorry I’ve ….been so busy.” He pants out.

“That’s exactly…what I want Austin.. I want you to make me cum.” You confess nearly breathless. You place your hands on his chest for leverage and feel the friction of his hardened cock rubbing against your folds intensify beginning to satisfy your pent up sexual urges.

You lightly moan using him to get yourself off and he stares up at you continuing to pant and groan as you grind harder on his cock edging you both.

You stand from his lap when his cock is rock hard. His eyes follow your movements as you kneel between his legs and tug at the band of his sweats. “Baby please let me shower.” He begs worried that he will taste like sweat, he wants his cock clean for you, he wants it to have no taste at all.

But you are persistent, his pheromones smell so sweet it’s driving you insane with lust.

“I want you like this Austin, I want to know what your cock tastes like.” You admit as you lift his shirt trailing your finger tips down his abs.

His six pack tenses showing every muscle as your finger tips reach his pelvic line. You see his hard cock twitch in anticipation through his tenting sweats and you softly squeeze the tip making him grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Beg me to suck your sweaty cock Austin” you command and he looks down at you while he lays flat, his eyes are pleading for you not to make him say it.

Your lips curve into a smile you love that he is so clean and perfect he is unable to even say the words.

You trail your hands down to his testis giving them a soft squeeze making his cock twitch a second time as he gasps “…baby please don’t make me say it.“ he begs.

You pull his sweat band lower releasing his large cock. His shaft sways and you hold it straight making him gasp again sensitive from your touch.

You form a fist around his cock and place your mouth above it “beg me” You command him looking into his eyes. He feels the heat of your words on his sensitive tip and restrains from bucking his hips up into your mouth.

You lick your thumb for saliva and swirl it around the tiny hole of his sensitive cock head making him lose his mind. His abs tense and his legs spasm as his hips buck up. “ Please suck my sweaty cock baby please !” he begs loudly making you smile. “As you wish” you tease him.

You lower your mouth on him as much as you can take and moan on his cock from the flavor. He tastes sweet and salty at the same time driving you insane with lust as you begin to drool.

“Do you…...- like it baby?” He pants struggling to form words as you suck him. “Mmhmm” you moan on his cock as your lock eyes with his. He becomes more aroused knowing you enjoy it.

You savor his cock as you suck all the way up releasing your mouth from his tip with a wet pop before diving back down on him and licking your tongue against his shaft in a repeated cycle.

He lays flat just panting and moaning in pleasure at the feeling of your mouth. The way your tongue explores his cock is different from anything you’ve done before and it sends shocks through his entire body feeling like your are trying to suck the flavor right off of him.

His cock twitches already wanting to cum in your mouth. “ fuck baby” he breaths out, and sits up on his elbows to watch what you do that pleasures him so much.

You guide your mouth on his cock bobbing up and down sucking him non stop. His body tenses as his cock pulses ready to cum. “P-please let me…-cum in your pussy baby…” he begs already at his climax. “Please..-let me …-s..satisfy you… I know you need me….” He says breathlessly.

You hold his thighs and lift your mouth from his cock “I need you Austin I want you to cum in me” you admit standing up preparing to ride him.

He sits up on the couch breathing heavier as he shivers from almost cumming in your mouth. He removes his socks and sneakers first then pulls off his damp shirt. He is extremely fit from his strength training for his role as Feyd.

His chest and abs are chiseled to perfection with his once defined arms now fully bulked. He lifts up his hips to pull his sweats and boxers off revealing his muscular legs. His nice thick cock is fully erect in between his toned thighs. Once completely naked he looks up at you to show he is ready.

You smile in satisfaction studying his pretty face and body. His full lips are parted and panting. The pupils in his blue eyes are expanded so wide from arousal they are almost all black.

You step closer standing between his spread muscular thighs and run your hands through his sweaty hair. You press the wet strands on his forehead back into his hairline as he smiles up at you with admiration in his eyes. He is so beautiful.

You plant a kiss on his smiling lips and step back to pull off your top and shorts with your panties. You climb on top of him a second time straddling his hips, this time you are both naked. He holds you around your waist and slowly kisses your mouth. He tastes himself on your tongue and he smiles that you like it.

As you begin to kiss heavier his hands wander up from your waist to cup your full breasts squeezing them together as he flicks your nipples with his thumbs.

He lowers you onto his cock and you both moan in unison as you settle on his base. “Austin you feel so good” you confess having been denied him so long due to his training schedule.

“Baby…you feel so good too… but -I-Im not gonna last long …you sucked me too good” he confesses panting against your neck with his hands on your waist. Feeling your tight pussy on him already pushes him to the verge of an orgasm.

”Make me cum then baby” you command and he immediately latches his mouth on your throat sucking hard and flicking his tongue to mark you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and moan against his ear as you ride his cock. You work your mid back with your hips to feel him even deeper and he praises you with kisses across your neck as you climax.

He parts his legs wider and holds you firm to him as he begins powerfully thrusting his cock back into you. “A-Austin YES!” You moan out loud.

He releases one arm from you and reaches between your bodies as he thrusts. His thumb finds your swollen clit and swirls circles into it as you moan and orgasm hugging him tightly around his neck. “I-I’mcumming Austin!” You cry out. “Yea?.. Me too.” he confirms.

Moans emit from both of your mouths as his cock pulses his warm cum into you. “Fuck!” Austin cries out thrusting faster bouncing you on his cock. He empties all of his cum into you, painting your walls and filling you up before he slows to a stop.

You both breathe heavily and are covered in a light sheen of sweat staring into each others eyes. “I love you” he declares feeling the rush of endorphins from sex. “I love too” you say breathlessly as you rest your forehead to his. You come down together in the intimate moment.

He holds the nape of your neck planting kisses on your lips as he guides his other hand to your waist. He helps you lift from his lap, sliding his cock out of you.

He holds you close as you stand in front of him while he sits on the couch. His ear is pressed to your chest as his hands caress your back. “I missed us having sex, thank you for making me realize” he says as you lovingly stroke through his wet sweaty hair. “You work so hard Austin you forget to take care of yourself sometimes” you say lovingly.

After a moment of him affectionately holding you close you break the silence “We should shower together Austin” you say smiling knowing what he wants to do next.

He looks up at you grinning with his eyes full of elation. He presses a firm kiss between your breasts and responds “finally”making you both laugh.

💙🩵End 🩵💙

Mr. Butlers Baby Sitter Part 3 TBA (next sorry for the delay) Mr.Butlers Babysitter

🏷️ The Always Tag List ♥️ (for the new smut fics)

@faegoddessog @purejasmine @obsessedvibee @abswifey @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @magicovento @star017 @buckysteveloki-me @cauliflowercounty @elvismylove04 @burnthheparaphilia @emeraldsgirl @fallofthedamned @lindszeppelin @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @feydsociety @phil2135561 @softboo

[gabgabwrites]

LIKE A BAT TO A SCARECROW | dark!Jonathan Crane [C.Murphy]

summary ⇝ Batman has a daughter who’s utterly, completely insane, what’s worse is you’re as equally in love with the Scarecrow as he is with you. And there’s something about watching your lover torture a victim that’s exciting.

Warnings ⇝ violence, human torture, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering? (he plays with reader over her panties), cussing, choking, biting, scratching, needles, Crane is actually a little lovie dovie, reader is actually insane FEAR KINK mdni.

dead dove: do not eat

as I’ve said, this fic is a little dark, so please read with caution.

The absolute shock that came to everyone when Batman's only daughter had turned on her father. You went from hero to psycho. What made it worse was that you were utterly infatuated with your father's enemy, Jonathan Crane, who was as equally mad about you. You two were like Harley Quinn and The Joker in your own twisted way. You were immune to his toxins at this point, and enjoyed the crazy look in his eye when he used them on captives, like right now...

"See the fear, my love?" He asked, he smiled as he stood next to an operation table with a man chained to it.

"Yes," You smirked, walking over to him. Crane stepped towards you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close as you stared at the terrified captive. The fear toxins were working and it was like a fine wine to you two.

“You like this?" He whispered in your ear.

"I do," You stand behind him, wrapping one arm around from his shoulder to his chest and the other around his waist.

A devious smirk appeared on his lips, "Oh that's new." His voice was quiet as he took a small step back, pressing his body against yours as he continued to watch his toxin do it's work on the bound individual. The man chained up before the two of you was shaking, after having a fear toxin injected in him.

Crane was amused and it showed. One hand gripped yours where it lay on his chest tightly as the other moved down to grasp at your hip. "We should play like this more often."

As your gaze remained forward you could feel his excitement grow - not a doubt in your head that he was enjoying your body pressed against his. "I agree."

With every word you and Crane shared you could hear the man bound in front of you whimper and gasp as he was tortured by his own mind. Cranes hands grew more adventurous with the way they gripped you, his excitement becoming far more noticeable as his body pushed harder into yours.

He spun on his heel and pinned you against the wall hard with his body. His gaze was locked with yours, looking hungrily for the permission to take you further.

His eyes looked sinister, unhinged, filled with a manic lust for someone and that someone was you. Crane's hands gripped either side of your face as he bent down and kissed you firmly on the lips. You could feel the manic excitement and passion behind his kiss as he moaned into your mouth.

"You enjoy watching people suffer?" You asked against his lips. Crane broke away from the kiss and nodded once, a sinister smile appearing on his face. His breath was hot and heavy as he stared unblinking at you.

"Moreso watching you." He whispered into your ear before he leaned down and bit your neck, pulling on the skin gently between his teeth. Your body was hot against his as your mind raced with excitement as he marked your neck. His mouth worked across your skin with the same excitement and passion, sucking on the places he bit to mark you further.

"You're gonna kiss me in front of our guest?" You faked a gasp.

Crane's lips left your skin and he smiled at you, biting your lower lip. "Of course, I want everyone to know who you belong to."

His voice was gruff, he was turned on more than usual with the way he was gripping and kissing you. But your eyes didn't deceive you. You could see the man bound and weeping for you in your peripheral vision. You smirked at the man, gently pushing Jonathan away so you could walk to the guy. "Oh you poor thing," You grinned wickedly.

Crane stepped back but remained close to you as you approached the bound man. The man looked up quickly at you with wide, horror filled eyes. His breath was short and you could feel the terror dripping off of him. He had no response for you and could only stare, tears streaming down his face.

You stood over the man, enjoying the fear you inspired into him. "What's the matter? Nothing to say?" You could see Crane watching you with hunger in his eyes from your peripheral vision. "Johnny, I think our friend is asking for more."

Crane stepped towards you and gripped the back of your neck. He could sense your excitement, your thirst for more. A sinister smile appeared on his face as he looked back at the bound man.

"Should we let him have some more then?" He questioned. His voice was a low growl. You nod.

Your agreement caused a low chuckle to come from Crane's throat but it was deep and seductive. He bent down and picked up the syringe with the fear toxin on it so the bound man could see it, he was shaking even harder now.

"You asked for more, my love. So a little more is what you'll get." Cranes free hand pulled you closer and he moved in to kiss you again.

You moaned into his mouth as the bound man screamed and cried behind you. Crane's hand gripped your hip hard and pulled you flush against him as he deepened the kiss. Your body was pressed against his and you could feel the effect you had on him clearly.

He took ahold of another syringe filled with the fear toxic, in its liquid form and stabbed it into the man's arm. The scream that came from the bound man was nearly primal as Crane pulled away from you. He watched gleefully as the terror took over the man.

Your focus then turned to Crane and you noticed that there was a noticeable bulge in his pants. He must really love you. "More Johnny," You actually moaned. "He isn't scared enough."

You weren't even sure if this man could be more terrified than he already was, but Crane was more than willing to find out. His eyes turned back towards you, "How much more can he take?" His thumb gently caressed your bottom lip before his thumb gently pushed on your lower lip and you could see the way his pupils expanded, becoming hungrifuler.

"How much do you have?"

A wry smirk appeared on his face and he glanced over at his workbench. "I can spare 5 more at the most. So let's make count."

He placed the used syringe behind him and picked up the next one. The bound man was pleading for Crane to stop, but the clown would not. Crane walked over to the man and without hesitation, he plunged one into the man's thigh and quickly removed it to find another spot to jab. His eyes remained focused on you the whole time, clearly wanting nothing more than your excitement and approval. "Mm, I think he can take one more."

Crane looked at you again and nodded, he could see exactly what you wanted. You took a few steps over so you were behind Crane as he stood over the bound man. Your hands were on his hips and your head was hovering over his shoulder as you watched the tears streaming down the man's face.

"Is that enough now, my love?" Crane could feel your heartbeat through his body as each beat of your heart sped up.

"For now." A shiver went down Crane's spine at the sound of your voice. His eyes met yours and you could see how hungry he was for you now. The last needle was placed aside and Crane immediately spun around to face you.

"You are a wonder." He whispered as he leaned down to kiss up and down your neck. His hands caressed the skin around your waist, gently pulling up your shirt as he kissed along your jawline.

"Just for you," You murmured, enjoying the way his lips felt on your skin.

Crane gently pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side. His eyes took in the sight as his fingers gently brushed over your exposed collar bone.

"What did I do to deserve such a perfect gift?" He whispered, leaning down to kiss your collar bone.

"I don't know," You smirked, fingers going to take his glasses off. Crane allowed you to remove his glasses but his focus was still locked on your body. His fingers ran along the side of your ribs slowly as all he could do was admire you. You could see his eyes flicker back and forth between your eyes and your skin which his fingers touched. "Dont stop."

Crane could easily identify the growing teasing in your voice. His hands moved so they gripped the sides of your waist firmly, "What is it you want, my love?" All you could see was the desire in his eyes.

"I think you know."

"But you know I like to hear you say it." His grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you closer to him and his mouth began to kiss up your neck until he nipped at your ear.

"Show our friend how nicely you treat me." Crane looked over his shoulder at the bound man and a smile formed on his face. He turned his attention back to you and one of his hands moved up and caressed your cheek as he looked into your eyes.

"You're my obsession." He murmured with a smirk before gently kissing your lips. He wanted the man to see how he truly treated you.

"And you're mine," Both of your hands went to his cheeks so you could kiss him harder. Crane took just a moment to adjust from the surprise of your deep kiss, but as your lips began to move against his he could only respond with the same fervor. His hands gripped your hips again, but his movements were more needy and desperate than earlier.

He was becoming completely fixated on you.

You gasp into the kiss for air, your hands tugging at his belt. "Off."

Crane smiled into the kiss as he felt you unbuckling his belt. He gently bit and pulled on your lower lip before he pulled back. "Eager tonight, I see."

His hands quickly unbuttoned his pants and began to lower them as his eyes remained glued to yours. His pants fell to the floor and Crane wrapped his arm around your waist once again and pulled you closer. Your chest was pressed against his now and you could feel how fast his heart was beating. He needed you.

"Undress," You say, taking off your own bra and skirt. Crane's eyes watched intensely as you undressed yourself before his eyes. Slowly his hands reached out and undid the buttons to his shirt as each one revealed more of his chest, which was beginning to heave up and down, slowly and shallow. His fingers trembled a bit as they reached the last button, he was nearly shaking with want for you. You turned around and grabbed to gas masks, like the ones they wore in the world wars and handed one to him. "I want to gas him," You pointed to the man

Crane gave you an excited look as a smile spread across his face. He loved how you two could bring out the darkness in each other. It was a twisted form of love.

"Of course, my love." He replied. His eyes remained fixed on you as he put the gas mask on and walked back over to the man.

You placed yours over your head and secured it while Crane pressed a button and the room slowly began to fill with gas. Crane adjusted the gas supply to release more and moved back to stand next to you. Through the dark lenses of the gas mask you could see the way he stared at you with a sinister look. A small shiver went down your spine as you watched the man bound to a chair begin to writhe in fear.

Crane moved so his body was behind you and his mouth just underneath your ear as his arms wrapped around your waist. His voice echoed inside your head as he whispered to you. "You look so beautiful like this. The shadows under the lenses, the way the mask fits your face. I don't know it's possible for you to become even lovelier."

"I can think of a few ways," You take one of his hands and bring it between your legs where it's only covered by your underwear.

Crane's breath hitched in the back of his throat as his eyes watched your hand move his down. "What are you doing, my love?" He could feel that you were nearly just as excited as he was but he needed to know how badly you yearned for him.

"I think you know," you let your head lean against his shoulder as he carried on. His fingers rub that one sensitive spot through your underwear. As his fingers gently rubbed against you, he was watching the way your body twitched as he moved his fingers. His hand began to grow more firm and assertive in its movements, slowly rubbing in a circular motion.

Crane could feel the heat from your body through the thin fabric and his fingers rubbed harder and faster. His other hand gripped your hip firmly as he watched you arch your back slightly and felt you lean into him.

You let out a moan, that came out reverb through the gas mask, your underwear becoming wetter from your arousal. Crane pressed harder and began to rub and press into you with more pressure. His breath was hot against your ear as he watched your knees bend a bit. He was addicted to the way you looked when he made you want him like this.

Your vision through the black lens was clouded by the white gas that filled the room, you could hear the man scream in fear which added to the pleasure. Crane wanted to hear more of your moans against the gas mask, it would be the first time he heard them like this. Your hands squeezed his hand on your hip as he rubbed you, your moans becoming more frequent. Crane was completely entranced as he whispered. "Are you enjoying yourself, my love?"

You nod. "Oh Johnny," You moan, your other hand reaching behind you to play with his hair, feeling the taut, material straps around his head from the gas mask. Crane couldn't ignore the way your body was leaning into his, and even less the way you moaned his name as the gas mask deepened your voice and gave it a sinister edge.

His hands rubbed and circled through the thin fabric of your panties, it was almost torture for him to not be able to feel you skin to skin. Crane's body rocked against yours, pushing you harder against the wall, you could feel how hard he was as he listened to your moans grow more desperate.

Crane's breathing was hard and his voice was just as rough. "You sound so beautiful in your mask, my love. Your moans make me want you even more." As he spoke he rubbed faster and harder, pressing harder into you. He could practically taste the tension in the air.

"I'm gonna..." Your voice was echoing around Crane's head as his hand pushed and pressed harder, almost as if he was trying to give you permission to do it. His own breath was heavy and hot as he pressed against you from behind. He was desperate enough to rip the mask off and take you right here.

"Then let go." He whispered.

Crane's body shivered against yours as your moans became more needy and desperate. He held you against him as your release ran over his fingers, leaving a mess in your panties. Crane's breathing was heavy now as he could feel the desire for you grow inside him.

"Oh fuck, Johnny," You moan, fingers hurriedly and aggressively tugging off your mask, exposing you to the fumes but you did not care. "Need you," then your fingers go to his mask. Crane could feel your body shudder again as he watched you remove your mask. His hands quickly pulled you to face him instead of against the wall. His breathing was heavy and his body pushed into you.

"You're all I need." He mumbled before his mouth quickly claimed yours in a hard kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth.

The man did not stop screaming, even choking on sobs. Crane was pressed against you as he could feel your heart beating against his. You could feel his body twitch every time your tongue twirled with his. His hands went to your waist and gripped you tightly almost to the point of hurting you.

He's was obsessed with the way you tasted and he wanted more. His mouth moved from yours so his tongue could slide along your jaw and up to your ear, leaving a trail of saliva behind.

"Oh please, please fuck me." Crane let out a low growl in your ear at the sound of your words.

His breath hitches in the back of his throat again as his lips met yours once more in a deep kiss. His hands gently lifted you so he could align himself between your legs.

"Mmm, Johnny," You sighed, body slick with moisture from the gas, your hands finding his hair that's also damp, when you felt him slide his cock inside you. "You hear that?" Crane groaned and bit down in the spot on your neck. He could hear the cries of the man in the next

Crane was beginning to lose to his want for you, and the gas would only contribute to his already clouded mind. One of his arms wrapped around your waist and he lifted you, his cock slipping out in the process.

He wanted to take you properly. He wanted to be as close to you as possible. He carried you over to his desk and sat you on top of it, not once breaking the kiss between lips, before sliding into you again. Crane continued to kiss you, his tongue twirling against yours as he moaned softly into your mouth. He loved the taste of you more than anything.

His body rocked against yours with need and desire behind each thrust. Crane's grip on your body was possessive as he kissed from your mouth to your jaw down to your neck again. He nipped at the spot he'd nicked before, and moaned against your skin. His cock was becoming wet from your pussy, which was dripping all over his balls. His eyes closing as he savoured you.

Crane's breath was hot against your neck. "You feel so good." He breathed out softly, pausing to suck your skin between his teeth for a moment before releasing it again.

His teeth bit down on another part of your soft skin, his teeth sharp enough to break the skin. It would make a small wound just big enough to bleed a little as his body arched into yours more roughly. Crane's mind was clouded over with the gas and his need for you.

It was hot and sweaty as the two of you made love. His tongue gently lapped at the small bitemark as he continued to press into you. It was almost as though he needed to mark you as his. His body was pressed against yours as he continued to press you back onto his desk.

Each breath in and out was a shaky breath from Crane, the gas beginning to affect him more and more the longer his body and mouth stayed on you. His hands gripped your hips so hard his hands were turning white.

He could feel your body twitch beneath him. The way you moved and arched into him was almost maddening. Crane needed you, he would go crazy without you. His tongue traced down your neck and his mouth began to tease at your chest.

Crane's voice was low and breathy as he slowly licked and kissed the top of your chest. He didn't want to leave any part of your body untouched from his mouth. "My love, you have no idea what you do to me..."

The gas was driving him wild as he continued to mark your skin with his mouth. He couldn't get enough of you. He needed to be as close as physically possible.

His hand gently wrapped around your neck and caressed it softly before his thumb pushed into the bottom of your chin. If the gas hadn't already made your vision blurry there was no way that you wouldn't have been seeing stars now. He didn't care about the pain, he only cared about you and your body. His hand gripped into your neck a bit tighter as he continued to mark your body. A low guttural moan escaped Crane, it was almost animalistic.

"I'm so close, baby," you moan, lips open in bliss.

Crane's mouth pulled back from your skin. His breaths were shaking and his body was shivering. "Mm fuck—, my love. Show me how I make you feel."

His hands gripped you as you arched your back and moaned, cum flooding out of you. He wasn't going to let you break his grasp. His mouth sucked on that sensitive spot he first nicked in your apartment, needing you feel you fall apart over and over again.

He was completely entranced by you. Every breath you took he was there to feel it, his skin felt like it was heating like a fire. The gas was making him completely animal, needing to take you over and over again.

Your name, moans, and cusses tumbled from his lips. Crane's body shook as he reached his orgasm, his breathing jagged and shaking. Every movement he made made him shiver from how sensitive he was for you. His head fell to your shoulder as his hand gently caressed your neck.

He stilled, both of you letting out pants. "Thank you, Johnny," You kissed his cheek, feeling him pull out.

Crane still was shaking and his body was over sensitive from the overwhelming wave of pleasure he took from your body. He had to lean against you for a moment. His head rest against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. "You're the one to thank, my love." He replied quietly

You turned to the button, pressed it to stop the gas from continuing to cloud the room, then you flipped the switch which was for small vents, that slowly began to suck the gas away.

Crane didn't move from his resting place on your shoulder for quite a while, not until the gas was nearly purged from the room. He slowly lifted his head from your shoulder, his head still feeling heavy from the effects of the gas. Crane placed a sweet kiss to your temple before he gently lifted you off of the desk, still holding you close to him.

"Look at him, Johnny," You wrapped my arms around Cranes neck, both of you looking at the man who was choking on sobs. Crane's focus moved from you to the bound man on the other side of the room. His body was slumped forward and he sobbed through the tears running down his face. Crane's hand gently stroked your hair as you looked over his shoulder.

"His fear was delicious," Cranes hands held you tightly as the two of you observed the man. Crane's expression looked almost gleeful at the sound of the mans sobs and the sight of the tears running down his cheek. "This is perfect, my love. You look stunning while he only looks weak."

Crane slowly turned you in his arms so your back was against his chest. His hands then wrapped around you and held you close so you both faced the man. Crane still seemed happy at the sight of the scared prisoner before him.

"The fear is sweet, isn't it?" He whispered into your ear.

"Yes, love. It is," You smiled, the two of you in a warm, sweaty, sweet embrace. Crane pressed his head into the crook of your neck, his cheek rubbing against your skin gently. He inhaled your scent with a big breath in and then began to kiss up and down your shoulder. Crane couldn't get enough of you, and the adrenaline rush they had from tormenting the prisoner didn't help his love-crazed mind.

Crane was still feeling the effects of the gas as well as his over-sensitive skin, the adrenaline from the previous actions only adding to this feeling. His hands gently caressed you, holding you tightly against him as he continued to rub his cheek against your shoulder. His mouth never stopped peppering kisses across your skin.

He needed to stay close to you. He couldn't get enough of your skin. Crane was already planning in his mind how he'd take you to be his all night long. "What do we do with him?"

He was quiet as he thought, his thumb rubbing over the skin on your hip as he did so. He was still pressed against your back and his body heat could be felt against your skin.

"He'll start to grow cold soon. We'll need to add another dose to keep him conscious. Then we might break a finger or two to keep the party going."

"I love the way you think." Crane leaned close to your ear and breathed out onto the skin behind it.

"Maybe we can remove his fingers," a sinister and gleeful voice spoke softly in your ear. While it was still Crane's voice, it was deepened by the gas mask and the effects of the gas.

He continued to rub your hip softly as he whispered into your ear. Crane shifted his position once more so you could feel his need for you against your skin. The gas was still affecting him, which wasn't helping his already feral thoughts.

His eyes stayed locked on the prisoner, his mind already racing with ideas of the things he'd do to him. "You inspire the wicked thoughts in my head, my love." He whispered before his teeth bit down on your earlobe.

"I hope so," You face him, looking at his bright blue eyes and plump lips. "Don't you wanna show him the mask?"

Crane was staring into your eyes, his mind racing with all sorts of thoughts as he gently pushed you against the desk behind you. Crane let out a low hum deep in his throat before a dark chuckle escaped his mouth.

"Yes baby, I think I do want to show him that one." He whispered back before his lips hovered over yours. Crane's hands gently caressed the sides of your face as he stared into your eyes. "My wicked girl." He spoke with a low growl in his throat as his mouth met yours for a hard and messy kiss

His teeth gently nibbled on your bottom lip as he pulled away from the kiss, one hand still cradling your head. Crane gently lowered your head so your ear was beside his mouth. The prisoner could not see you now.

"The prisoner is becoming bored, my love." He whispered before his hand moved away from you, reaching back into the bag.

Crane grabbed the Scarecrow Mask and held it out in his hand. "Go on, put it on and show it to him," You urged.

"Of course, my love." Crane's voice was dark and seductive as his words caressed your ear. He lifted the mask above his head and pulled it over his face so it sat perfectly on his head. The mask completely changed Crane's demeanor from that of a doting lover to that of a ruthless criminal. And the prisoner in front of him began to get the chills.

He then turned to the man. Crane's gait was slow and filled with intent as he approached the restrained man. The prisoner immediately grew uncomfortable, not knowing what was to come. Crane's lips spread into a wicked grin as his eyes looked down at the trembling body of the man tied to the chair. Crane stood tall and took a long minute to just observe the man.

The man lurched against the chains and let out a blood curdling scream. Crane's body stiffened as the man's scream echoed through the holding cell. A low, guttural growl escaped Crane's mouth as he took a step forward towards the prisoner. His voice was deep and sinister as he spoke, completely distorted from the effects of the gas and the mask.

"Silence." Crane commanded, an anger behind every syllable.

Crane watched the prisoner as he quieted himself. Crane's gaze drifted over to you as he glanced at you over his shoulder as you approached him. His breath was heavy behind the mask and his body continued to tremble from the adrenaline and gas.

His hand gently brushed against yours as you came up beside him, silently acknowledging your presence. "You know, you look good in your mask."

"And you look delectable in anything, my love." Crane's sinister voice responded, his mouth curved up into a dark smile at your compliment. He gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close into his side before looking over to the prisoner again. "Do you like what you see?"

You nod happily. Crane's hand gently caressed your shoulder as his thumb brushed gently against your skin. His body vibrated lightly against yours.

"Good. Now, shall we make our little bird sing again?" Crane asked quietly to the prisoner before his gaze turned to you.

The rest of your day was spent torturing the man until he seized to exist, and bent over, having Dr. Jonathan Crane fuck you until you both saw stars and galaxies.

[sxs-a2]

@s1lver-bullet asked: “Hey, what’s something you really like to eat but don’t often get the chance to? Pick something and let’s go get it. That should be fun.”

Nezuko was too distracted staring at Jowi to pay attention to what he is saying. He was so BEAUTIFUL in the girl's eyes.

🌸 → ❝ Um....Anything you want. I'm not that hungry anyway. ❞

[coweye]

Just Logan

The worst Logan part ii

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 10k words

Summary: You return from the void ready to navigate your new reality with the not-quite-love-of-your life. Second Part to worst Logan.

Warning: Mentions of drugs, Canon Typical Violence, gratuitous Laura paternal love. smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, assplay mentioned.

AN: Fair warning my loves - this hasn’t been proof read… unless you’re reading this after the 26th August! I’m currently posting this on my phone at an airport 💖 I love you all so much and can’t express how much your love for my stories has meant to me!

Achilles once said “I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. and I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion."

For seven excruciating years you’d been without him. 

Eventually, time had dulled the ache, made it so you forgot what it was to have another hold you through the night, to make you feel safe and loved. Love was like a drug; one you had unknowingly spent the past half a decade weaning yourself from.

Then he appeared; ‘The worst Logan’ as Wade had not-so-affectionately dubbed him, and in one fell swoop undid years of hard work. He came and reminded you just how fucking good drugs were - that motherfucker was class-A narcotics and he was addictive as hell.

By mid morning you were already desperate for another hit, your eyes searching for him around every corner.  Part of you was afraid you had gotten him all wrong, that perhaps you didn’t know this man as well as you thought you did. Though at the last second Logan had shown up, unfolding him from the boot of the Honda and joining the fray, every inch the hero he insisted he wasn’t. 

You and Laura sliced a path through your enemies, side by side, the two of you moved in perfect synchronisation. In the years since his death, she had taken Logan’s position in your formation, and now the two of you fought together as naturally as breathing. 

Logan couldn’t help but watch the two of you together for a moment, though after a knife to the ribs as reward for his lack of awareness, he shakes his head free from the indulgence of his ready-made-family and returns to the task at hand, carving his way through the enemy to get to Cassandra. 

 It had been a hard-won battle, though Laura had been extraordinary. You, yourself had been outmatched with the Juggernaut, only in a position to bend the light keeping yourself from sight as you inflicted shallow cuts with your blades along his arms and torso creating confusion and pain that allowed Laura to find her openings.

Your girl sliced through his Achilles bringing him to his knees before she ended his life with four claws through his chest. 

In your eyes, as she stared down Goliath her soft features melted into a renaissance painting. A woman in her own right, overflowing with untold power, those shades making her look every inch the badass motherfucker you knew she was.

You can’t help your untimely realisation that your daughter has grown into a formidable woman as you propel her through the air with bubbles of psionic energy to deliver the helmet to her not-quite-father and Wade.   

The brief moment of triumph as you overcome Cassandra’s men is followed in quick succession by the sobering loss of Logan for a second time, as he leaps through the golden shimmering portal.

It had been the plan all along, and yet you couldn’t quite account for the stone in your stomach weighing you down at the realisation he is gone yet again.

Laura’s deep brown eyes, all too often full of difficult emotions, are hidden behind the colourful sunglasses, though you can tell from the fall in her shoulders that your girl feels the same grief. She had held out childlike hope that the two of you would stay with him despite his earlier brush off and you are far too ashamed to admit you had been harbouring similar hopes.

To have gotten him back for a single day only to lose him again, for you it is painful. For her, it must be torment.

So, you put a pin in your pain for now. Loss is an old friend, one that will no doubt visit in the dead of night when sleep inevitably evades you, but Laura needs you.

Swallowing your grief deep down, you begin by tucking her wild dark hair back behind her ears and with the bone of your knuckle you wipe an errant splatter of blood from her brow.

Around you, your team bask in the defeat of Cassandra and her people, yet the two of you mourn losing yet another Logan.

“The time we had with him was a gift.” You whisper to her. The second you touch her palm with your finger tips; her claws instantaneously retract. You interlock your fingers with her own bloodied ones. 

For a moment the two of you stand together like this, coming to terms with the loss. It doesn’t destroy you the same way North Dakota had, but it has certainly taken the air from your lungs. 

“What now?” Laura asks, burying her emotions, more like Logan than you care to admit.  

“Now we find a way to get back home, Cassandra’s not hunting us anymore, maybe we can-“

“Miss Y/LN, Miss- “At the sound of an unfamiliar voice your head whips round and you are armed with a knife before you even make the decision and from the telltale ‘snikt’ behind you so is Laura.

 “Holster your weapons.” The agent shouts as the group of forgotten heroes turn their gaze on the TVA squad who have appeared from the orange glowing doorway. “You have been offered a pardon on order of the time variance authority - please come with us.”

 Laura steps forward, though you place a steady hand on her shoulder stopping her in her tracks. “The last time we trusted you people, we ended up in this dump.” You shout across the gulf that the agents have left between you. 

When has anything in life been this easy?

 “Mr Howlett and Mr Wilson saved the multiverse. All they have asked in return is for a second chance for the people who helped them do it.”

Whilst remaining utterly compelling it still feels far too good to be true. You look at your daughter; she pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and nods once. She’s not a little girl anymore and she wants to go through the damn doorway.  With little in the way of options you decide with a deep sigh to be an optimist, which is how you end up in Wade Wilson’s apartment.

Five people (six if you include Dogpool) living in a two-bedroom apartment was …  to put it lightly, snug. Wade being the secret gentleman he was, offered up his room to you and Laura.

Nights he didn’t spend at Vanessa’s were spent sharing a bed with Al, much to her delight, which left Logan sleeping on the couch.

Logan: This Logan was nothing short of an enigma to you. 

The two of you had been friendly, smiling and laughing, sitting together at the party Wade had thrown to celebrate saving the universe.

It felt good, easy even to joke with him and Laura. You had felt like a real family as you sandwiched the young girl between the two of you, taking it in turns to make her laugh.

When she had abandoned the two of you to talk with Yukio and Ellie,  you had fallen into comfortable companionable silence. The simple fact of the matter was that you didn’t have much in the way of small talk, all of your talk was massive talk. A mountain you’d soon have to overcome, but neither of you wanted to break the spell.

So, you simply enjoyed each other’s company and when your knee knocked against his under the table, you didn’t bother pulling back. Instead, when he didn’t immediately recoil, you left it there pressed against the warm muscle. 

This casual touching was new to both of you and you were drunk on it, occasionally you’d brush his plaid covered bicep as you leaned across to stroke the monstrosity that was Mary Poppins or you’d brush your fingers against his with a smile when you handed him a fresh beer.  

It’s fair to say, you are both black belts at emotional avoidance. 

Her abandoned airbed, more electrical tape than plastic at this point, lies deflated in the corner of the bedroom, dual holes from slender claws having led to its untimely end.

With a sigh you rise, stretching your aching back. 

Wincing as it cracks from contorting on the edge of the double mattress- even in the goddamned void, you’d had more personal space than this.

Sparing a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, you see it’s 6:23am. In a vain hope you just listen to the sounds of the quiet apartment, no one else has awoken yet. You sigh with relief, desperate for some alone time, after living for a week with everyone underfoot. 

Closing the bedroom door behind you as silently as possible, you tiptoe with bare feet with the honest intention of going to the kitchen for some coffee.

Only you’re sidetracked by the man sprawled across the sofa looking like he was carved from goddamn marble.

The blanket is wrapped around his plentiful jean covered thighs as his bare size twelves extend comically over the arm of the sofa. Logan’s thick, veined and extremely bare arm hangs off of the leather cushion, whilst the other clutches a pillow under his head. Logan is wearing a white vest that leaves very little to the imagination, so much so you’re unable to help the flashback of stroking the abs you know linger below the almost transparent white cotton. You’re unsure how long you stand there, but it can’t be more than 30-seconds before his eyes wearily blink open, startling you.

“Paint a picture, it’ll last longer, Bub.” When he speaks, his voice is even thicker than usual with sleep, it’s like honey on gravel and it makes your skin tingle.

“Uh-” You’re lost for words after being caught ogling the sleeping man. All you can do is a quick apology as you carry on through to the kitchen.

When you’re safe from view, you slap palm to your forehead - Why? Why couldn’t you for once in your life just be smooth? 

The second you're out from under his searing gaze a million infinitely suaver responses flood your mind. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ ‘Don’t tempt me.’ 

You’re nearly (Y/A+7 years) old, not the idiot girl that pined after the unattainable bad boy of the mansion. For the love of all that’s holy; two different versions of that man have been inside of you, and you ran away!

You’re pacing in front of the fridge when you hear his body slide against the leather of the couch. Honestly, you’re praying for the void to swallow you back up as you try to act casual, filling the coffee machine with water.

 “Mornin’.”

“Good Morning, Logan.” You reply though you can’t quite meet his eyes as you flick the switch for the drip to begin. 

“Back on the couch - Eh, I was just kiddin’ around, Bub.” He scratches his neck awkwardly.

“Oh. I, uh, I know.” You reply, finally meeting his eyes. Those hazel eyes stop you in your tracks as they scan your face for any trace of emotion. He’s as out of his depth as you are, and that thought alone calms you. “I’m sorry, If i’ve been strange the past few days… I thought…I just assumed I would never make it out of the void and I was there for months and uh-”

“Bub… y/n... I don’t hold you to what happened that night.”

“What?” You narrow your brows in confusion, you were only going to talk about the uncomfortable adjustment period to regular life.  

“You were vulnerable, I look like your guy. I get it.” His voice is still deep and he’s trying to be so understanding and noble, you can’t help as you reach out and grab his bare wrist, your forefinger can't even meet your thumb as you hold onto his thick warm flesh.

“Logan, no that’s not what I meant at all. I-” 

“-Mornin’ love birds! Don’t let me stop ya’ from takin’ care of that mornin’ wood, just getting some delicious nectar of the gods.” Wade comes from the bedroom wearing Al’s lilac dressing gown and what looks suspiciously like the older woman’s pyjamas, riding far too high up his shins to be his own for the much taller man. Wade leans against the counter next to you and the coffee machine, burying himself in the neck of the dressing gown and looking pointedly at your hand around Logan’s wrist and whispers. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

“God give me strength, Wade.”  Somewhere along the way, Logan’s rage with the mouth has dampened to the point there’s no real threat behind the warning.

As there’s probably about a few teaspoons of coffee in the machine, every fresh drop plinks against the glass jug only enhancing the newfound silence in the kitchen.

“Good Morning, Wade.” You sigh finally, rubbing your thumb against the hair covered flesh of Logan’s wrist in a promise as you try to use your eyes to communicate; we will discuss this. 

“Honestly, I’m not even here. Just go back to staring longingly at each other, talk amongst yourselves.”

“Fu-” Logan starts, his nose flaring at the man beside you, his finite patience already slipping.  

“Incoming.” Wade sings-song lowly, as he drops his head onto your shoulder.

“What are we all doing in the kitchen?” Laura asks through a yawn, her bed head innately ridiculous standing up on all sides - probably from a night spent tossing and turning, kneeing you in the spine. When Logan tears his wrist away from your hand it stings a little, but you understand, the last thing Laura needs in her life is more confusion.

“There’s a line for the coffee, kiddo.” Logan gives her a look that's somewhere between a smile and a grimace. The man’s sharp edges were slowly being worn away again and he was really trying with his daughter, though a tiny growl leaves the young woman at his words.

“She’s not a morning person.” Is the only answer you have for him when he looks your way both confused and quite frankly a little frightened as your daughter takes the first cup of coffee and returns to her room slamming the door behind her with her foot.  

“Teenagers, huh? Whatcha’ gonna’ do with them?” Wade sighs, still leaning his head on your shoulder having made no effort to stop the queue jumper.

Logan gives Wade a meaningful look and tilts his head towards the door, which the man currently invading your personal space bubble continues to ignore. 

There’s something about Wade you can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed by. 

Those years on the run with Charles, Logan and Caliban had been so hopeless, so void of laughter, that the man with the constant jokes puts you at ease, makes your heart feel lighter. Wade makes you smile which has been a rare commodity in recent years.

Perhaps it's the fact he makes the world feel a little lighter that makes you so willing to tolerate the overly familiar head on your shoulder. 

The two men are having a silent conversation, as you stare at the fridge awkwardly.

“I…uh… I think I’ll jump in the shower.” You detangle yourself from Wade and place a meaningful hand on Logan's arm. “Talk later?”

He looks to your hand, and then to your face and simply nods. 

Only, you don’t end up talking later, because after your shower, you return to your bedroom hell bent on getting dressed and heading out into the city for the day to get some distance before you start your new job tomorrow.

That’s when you find Laura twisting her hands and waiting for you. The second you close the door behind you, she stands.

“You alright, bug?” You ask, giving her the opening she so desperately needs. 

“I, um, have some news.” She can barely meet your eyes, a trait you’re sorry to say she’s picked up from you. 

“Yeah?” You prompt, taking her hand in yours.

“I want to join the X-Men.” Your mouth opens involuntarily to reply, but no words can find their way up your throat; you’re irrevocably thrown. 

In the years since the devastation Charles had wrought on the manor, you hadn’t been able to muster the strength to return to West Chester.

“I know, you might not be sold on the idea but I want to use my powers for good, I don’t want to get a normal job - not that the coffee shop isn’t great for you - but I’m-”

“It’s great, Laura.” Your voice sounds wrong even to your ears. “I’ll do my best to get used to being back in the Mansion-”

“No.” You can tell it slips out, she honestly doesn’t mean it to. “I … I, uh, want to join the X-Men, me. I want to go alone.”

“Oh.” You can’t help the deflated sound of your voice, you hadn’t foreseen your daughter breaking up with you when you woke up this morning.

“No, mamá,” She takes your hand in hers, desperate to fix it. “I love you and I can’t ever repay-”

“No, Laura.” You tell her. She looks terrified before you rush to finish. “You don’t ever have to repay me. You are fucking magnificent, so you go be an X-Man. I love you so much.” 

She wraps her arms around your middle, buries her face in your  shoulder and squeezes, she's just as tall as you are now at nineteen years old and fuck if it doesn’t break your goddamn heart.. “If you get yourself hurt with those do gooders, I’ll fucking kill you.”

After dressing and many more tearful hugs as the two of you talk logistics, it's decided she’d be heading over to the mansion in the morning. 

You start work and so does she.

Your heart drops when you hear she’s put off telling you for the past five days, ever since she’d had the offer from Ellie and Yukio at the party. 

Later that evening telling Logan goes, well, about as well as you might expect.

“No.” He growls furiously. “Absolutely, no fuckin’ way.”

“Logan-” You try.

“You agreed to this?” He’s blind to reason as he turns on you. Al and Wade both sit in the living room, having called an ‘urgent family meeting’. 

“I for one think it's a great idea! - not that we haven’t loved having-” One look from Logan does what you had up until this very moment thought impossible and shuts Wade up. 

“Logan, she’s an adult - she wants to join them. We should be supportive.”

“Supportive?!” He’s incredulous as he laughs harshly, voice utterly brimming with condescension when he continues. “You forgettin’ what happened there, huh, bub? You and I are the fuckin’ sole survivors - Last of the class! How's your Storm doing? Your Hank? Your Scott? Oh wait, their all fuckin’ dead!”

Your Logan never spoke to you this way. Never directed that fire within him at you, it's unfair, the comparison, you know this but your brain is misfiring with shock. 

Had your Logan ever truly cared about anything this much when you’d been together in those dark days? Had all the fight truly left him back then? Had the two of you just ended up together out of mere convenience?

When you don’t reply, he just stares your way, his nose flared still utterly furious, at you, your betrayal, at Laura, at this situation he’s not emotionally equipped to deal with. This Logan’s shoulders are squared like he’s preparing to go a few rounds with you and not in a sexy way. 

It's not a situation you’re entirely sure you’ve been in before; you’ve never been his enemy.  So you’re not sure how to approach this cornered animal, ready to swipe out at you in his fear. 

“If I didn’t go to that school, I never would’ve met any of you. I would be back in Y/H/T (your hometown) and I’d be lesser for it.” 

It utterly disarms him, he’d clearly been prepared for harsh words to combat his own.

Pacing like a tiger locked in a cage, he finally sighs rubbing his forehead irritability. Logan turns, grabbing his leather jacket making the doorframe shake as he slams it after himself. 

“I think he’s secretly happy for you, Laura.” Wade’s voice is light and full of sarcasm.

“That went just about as well as to be expected.” Al huffs from her position at her side as she takes Laura’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. He’ll come round to the idea.”

“Yes, he fucking will.” Seeing your daughter's face crumble as he storms off like a child is apparently your breaking point.

You follow after him, though as you’re a grown adult in charge of her emotions you simply allow the door to close behind you.

“Haha! - She’s gonna beat the shit outta’ him! Its gonna’ be like 454 when she-” You hear Wade cackle as you take off.

It doesn’t take long to find him, you know the man better than you know yourself, though it does certainly help that he’s predictable as shit.

The closest bar to the apartment is where he’s pulled up a stool, his nose flares the second he smells you.

“I mean it this time, I’m not looking for damn company.”

You ignore him, just as you did the time before. 

“Two Corona’s please.”

“I don’t drink that shit.” he huffs. “Corona and a Blue Ribbon.”

It shouldn’t hit you the way it does. 

Just like before, this miniscule insignificant difference, it utterly devastates you.  

A simple fact; his favourite beer. The drink he ordered at every bar he entered without fail - is suddenly, without warning, repulsive to him. 

It just serves to remind you that the man slouched on the bar stool beside you is a complete stranger wearing the face of your dead lover.

Perhaps your Logan drank it simply because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings? 

Had he hated it all along? 

Did he only drink it because you did? 

Maybe the beer is a pertinent metaphor for your entire life.

He only drank the beer because it was there, just like he only fell for you because there was no one better around. 

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, you’re only bought out of your spiral by a bottle being placed down in front of you.

Shaking your head, you will yourself to calm down. After a few centering breaths, Logan is looking your way. 

“Thought you were comin’ to give me a talkin’ to.”

It's funny, in a way, your spiral actually has calmed you, reminded you that this isn’t your Logan. 

He’s a different man with his own set of wounds, trying to navigate this awful situation just like you are. 

“I was going to. You were a dick to her back there.” You sigh, taking a sip of your beer. “Then I remembered everything… everything you’ve lost and I thought maybe I could just cut you some slack this time.”

“That's generous.” He shakes his head, sipping his own beer. “This whole things a fuckin’ mess.”

You can’t help but agree with a nod. 

The two of you sit in silence, which would appear to be the norm these days, you have so much to say to one another, yet you can’t seem to find the words. 

Speaking to him, finding out more of the things that are different about him, terrifies you.

Little do you know, Logan is fighting a similar battle.

He hates the weight of your gaze, how it seems to hold the expectation of the great man you’d lost with every glance, it's a constant reminder how short he falls of the anchor being this world lost. 

“Where am I in your world?” You ask the question you’ve had on your mind since meeting him. He knows almost everything about you, and yet you know so little.

“Dead.” He sighs rubbing at his eyes. “With the rest of them.”

“Did we ever?” He looks your way sharply at this question, then gives a harsh shake of his head. 

It hurts a little to know you were always in the background for him - it's difficult to think of a world where you always loved him from afar, never getting to feel his skin on yours. 

“I mean - you’d have had to pay attention to someone other than her for that to happen, I guess.”

“How the fuck’-” He growls voice filled with a new emotion, one you’re not quite familiar with. Bemusement? Disbelief?  “-has this turned into me being the bad guy for not noticing you?” 

“Eh - you were a real asshole upstairs.” Smirking, you take another sip of your drink. “Question for a question? - Take it in turns?”

“I don’t wanna’ know anythin’ about your world.” He snaps, turning his head back, though you can see him watching you in the mirror beside the booze. 

It's like a countdown, you watch him battle his volatile emotions. 

5, 4, 3 , 2, 1.

“Fine.” He grunts into his beer bottle. “How’d they die?”

That throws you, you’d expected how’d we meet? What happened to Charles? Instead he hits you with that straight out the gate.

“Uh - Charles had started showing signs of a degenerative brain disease. I mean,  he was old, prone to seizures. We were desperate to find a way to control them. We were blind… to the reality of the situation.” You take a sip, resting your forehead on your hand as your eyes ache and threaten to water, this was the first time you’d ever discussed this out loud.. “Then, he had a fucking grand mal … it … it wiped out everyone within a 100,000 foot radius.” 

Unable to help it, you pick at the skin around your thumb. “It was… devastating. He killed them all. All the kids in their classrooms, our friends and family. Not even Jean could stop him.”

“He… he killed Jean?”

You're a little ashamed of the flare of jealousy at his devastation about the woman you’d always come second to. But you push that deep down, it's not the time nor place.

“How’d you survive?” He questions. 

“I was away. I’d heard of a neurosurgeon in Germany, he was developing… Well, it doesn’t matter now. But I was away, whilst everyone I cared about died.” 

You’d never had a need to speak of it, Logan had lived it alongside you - there was something cathartic about saying it all out loud. You wipe at your cheek as you gulp down the last of your drink, a heavy stone weighing your stomach now. 

“Your turn.” Logan’s voice is deep in thought as gestures to the bartender for another. He’s extending an olive branch, a kindness in the face of your vulnerability. 

You think about it for a moment, what you’d like to know. 

“We were friends at least?”

“Oh yeah, we were the best of friends, Bub. You were… uh … a lil’ younger back there, never really looked at you that way.” He scratches at his bearded chin, he’s avoiding looking your way again, uncomfortable sharing these parts of himself. “You… uh… you were gonna have pups with Pete.”

“With Maximoff?!” You squeak disbelieving, whilst taking a sip of your beer prompting a coughing fit to end them all, as you gasp for air. 

Logan sighs, slamming his open palm between your shoulder blades. He rubs the spot he just hit in a circle pattern, reminding you somewhat of the last time he drew circles.

“I had a baby with Peter?” You push your hair back from your face. “...That's why he used to stare at me … y’know there was one time…” 

You smile fondly recounting a time you caught him staring creepily across your classroom before you remember that sweet silver haired kid in your memories is dead. The smile drops from your face in an instant; you didn’t have children with him because he’s six feet under. 

“No. You were pregnant when….” He grunts, his voice has a raw edge to it. For two people constantly at odds, your souls were in the same state of flux, continually aching for vastly different reasons, yet at the root, the same cause. 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment or two, you’re processing the fact that you almost had kids with Quicksilver and he’s no doubt regretting ever playing this game.

The game. 

“It's your turn.”

“This is why she shouldn’t join them, everyone we know is dead.” Logan has had enough of the game as he sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Being a goddamn hero gets you killed.”

“Logan.” You touch the back of the hand currently gripping the beer bottle neck like it owes him money. “She’s strong, stronger than me. Laura is you in every way that counts. She’s ridiculously stubborn, headstrong - even when she’s wrong - and she has a kind heart. She wants to use those gifts you’ve given her for good. How can you stand in the way of that?” 

Logan’s hand flips over, his warm callused fingers coming to link around your own. 

“The kind heart is all you, bub.” 

The beers have loosened your tongue, made your anxieties seem a little further away.

“I don’t know. You have your moments.” His fingers dance along your palm, stroking the broken planes.

The two of you enjoy this easy intimacy you’d been forming over the past few days. 

“How’d we get together?” Those instruments of death you’ve seen take countless lives, glide over the soft skin of your wrist. Your eyes, usually so afraid to meet his, can’t leave their hazel captivity as you process his blunt question

“Oh, uh…” Tucking your hair behind your ear with your free hand, your eyes dart to his fingers still drifting across your flesh.

“Don’t get shy on me now, bub.” He smirks, though his heart’s not in it. 

That asshole. 

Taking a deep gulp of your third beer, you rely on the liquid courage, before raising your eyes back to his.

“One night. It was a few days after everything, we had finally got a sedative for Charles. We had a moment to take stock of everything we’d lost. You … uh … he came to me and … he cried. The first time I’d seen it.” His hand pulls back, but you can’t help it, you refuse to release your hold. You don’t want to lose this connection. Your thumb dips, rubbing at his knuckle, at the joint where his claws always caused the bone to ache. “I held him and he kissed me, it was messy. It was desperate but I think we both needed to feel something that wasn’t grief.” 

“And I thought I was special… ” His voice holds sarcasm though you can tell the sentiment behind it is anything but humorous.

“You are special to me.”

“Yeah.” His voice is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying.

“You are.”

“I look like the guy who’s special to you, darlin’. I’m not him, as much as you may wish I am. Hell I wish I was.” He has snatched his hand away as he slams cash down on the bar.

Logan has started the short walk back to the apartment, cutting through the alley.

He’s hurt, burying it deep beneath the rage. His anger is an old friend. One he’s comfortable confronting.

“I’m done with your stupid games. I’m done with it all. Haven’t you got the memo? I’m the worst Logan.”

“I’m so fucking sick of that! You’re so goddamn cruel to yourself.” You cry out at his leather covered shoulders, that in itself seems to stop him in his tracks. The Y/N from his world was a mousy wallflower through and through, nothing he’d seen from this world led him to believe you were any different and yet his ears weren’t deceiving him. “I loved my Logan - I fucking adored him. Yes, sometimes it's hard to separate the two of you, but I care for you.”

He stands motionless in the alley as you bare your soul. 

“I’ve known you for a week. I can’t love you the same because you’re not the same person, not entirely, but my soul knows yours. You’re Logan.” You’ve closed the distance but he still wont turn around and perhaps that's what makes it easier to say the things you’ve been desperate to say for days. “I look in your eyes and I feel safe, when you touch me everything feels like it's going to be okay. You’re not the worst, you’re not the best. You’re Logan; you’re just Logan.”

Logan is on you instantly, silencing your words with a scorching kiss. It's the kind you see in movies, desperate, filled to the brim with passion, usually taking place in the rain.

His hands find your lower back, pulling you to him as your wrap your arms around his neck, making sure he can’t escape from your grasp, as he growls and pushes you against the brick wall. 

Your nose aches from the pressure of his cheek pressed against it as he devours your mouth with his own. He is claiming your mouth with a week of pent up emotions. He grips your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist, pressing the hardened bulge of his jeans against your core. 

“Mom? … Logan?” 

There in the street light Laura is illuminated. Her face gives nothing away, she may as well be wearing those sunglasses for all you can garner from her expression. 

“Hey Love! - I.. We…uh-” Logan slowly releases your thigh, slyly adjusting his jeans in an attempt to hide his erection. You do your best to stand in front of the -ahem- sizeable bulge. 

“How's it going?” You ask with a faux air of casualness as you place your hands on your hips, though your voice has a weird edge.

“Pretty good. How’s it going for you?” Her own voice has a coy little smile to it, which puts you at ease just a little. 

“Great, I’m great. Logan? You great?”

“Great.” He grunts behind you. 

“Great! - Everyone’s … great.” 

The three of you stand in silence for a second or two, processing what's just happened or perhaps trying to decide if great is still a real word.

“You’re so weird.” Laura snorts. “For the record I’m happy that you both pulled your heads out of your asses.”

“Baby-”

“Kid-” You and Logan speak in sync. Your eyes lock as you both try and decide how the other was going to finish that sentence.

“Laura - me and your Mom… uh… things are complicated… and we don’t want to drag you into this.” Logan, the man of very few words, has managed to find them. You’re stunned into silence as he takes control of a conversation… about feelings… with his daughter.

This is not any Logan that you know.

Laura looks to you, waiting for your seal of approval on the message.  

“I know how confusing things are already, Bug.” You close the distance between the two of you, linking your fingers with hers.  “Me and your dad, we’re working through some things.”

You notice Logan’s shoulders setting straighter at his new title, like a welcome weight has been placed upon them. She nods at your words, smiling devilishly.

“It was just a matter of time, Mama. He has a staring problem.”

“No, I fuckin’ don’t.” He growls from behind you both. Your heart feels lighter than it has in a decade as the two of you cackle at his defensive response.

He digs his hands into his pockets glaring your way, though it has no heat whatsoever behind it, in fact he looks like he’s fighting a smile.

With your hand still firmly in Laura’s you pull her back towards the apartment, linking your arm through Logan’s warm, thick leather clad one. He doesn’t take your hand, but he also doesn’t pull away as the three of you walk back to the house. 

“Can we get pizza? - For emotional trauma?” She questions.

“Baby, I’ll buy you all the pizza in New York.” You reply rolling your eyes.

“Not with fuckin’ pineapple on.” Logan groans.

“Pineapple on pizza is objectively delicious!” Laura defends from her place on your otherside, she pulls on your hand still hanging between the two of you. “Back me up.”

“I will always have your back … but…. pineapple on pizza is in fact a crime against humanity.” 

Logan lets out a guffaw of victory, as Laura snarls his way. You take a mental picture, the warmth in your chest, bracketed in by your two favourite people in the world. Life is good.

Laura leaves the next morning. 

It is a difficult pill to swallow, after seven years by her side. You can’t quite make the leap to take her to the mansion, it's something she understands. So when you embrace her at the doorway after Ellie reassures you for the 30th time she’ll look out for her, you find it hard to let go.

There hasn’t been a day you’ve been without her since you first met the scrawny 12-year old in Mexico. Laura is an extension of you, like your heart is on the outside of your body and you’re not ready for your heart to go to West Chester without you being there to protect it. 

At that moment you understand why she needs this independence, she’s 19 years old. She needs her own life, to experience everything it has to offer but that doesn’t make letting go any easier.

“You call if you need anything, anything at all.” You tell her as you push her hair behind her ears. “Don’t stay up too late but also don’t go to bed too early to make friends but make sure you get plenty of sleep.”

“I will get the perfect amount of sleep, don’t worry.” She grabs your wrists, removing your hands from her hair.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” You sigh, your anxiety is eating away at your stomach. She’s not the vulnerable child being hunted anymore, you try to remind yourself. “If you need me-”

“-If you need us. We’ll be there.” Logan cuts you off, interjecting his own amendment. 

In a show of affection you’re not quite expecting, he hugs the girl. It's somewhat awkward and clumsy, the two have known each other for a week, but when they pull back, you can see the gesture was all that really mattered.

He hands her her backpack, which she throws one strap over her shoulder. The two smile at each other in their silent language, both such quiet souls. 

When she turns back to you, you ask. “We can walk you down?”

“Stay here? It’s easier this way.” She looks so small as she pleads with you.

Taking mercy on her, you nod. 

“Okay.” Waving you watch her turn for the door. You don’t expect however when she turns back and barrels into your chest for a final time, burying her face in your neck.

“I love you, Mama.” She whispers, you can’t help it as your eyes water. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing her tightly to your chest. 

“I love you. You are my world.” You know she needs you to let her go for her to be able to walk through that door. So with a deep inhale of her hair for the road, you pull back gathering your strength. You pull her other strap onto her shoulder and push her hair back from her face. You wipe her tears from her cheeks and give her the biggest smile you can muster, despite your teary eyes and broken voice. “Give them hell, baby.”

Laura nods, giving her own matching teary smile. Her back straightens and her shoulders square as she follows Yukio and Ellie down the hall. The duo waving at you as they descend down the stairs.

You’re so busy watching your world disappear down the hall you barely feel the heavy warm hand wrap around your shoulder in comfort. You melt into Logan’s side as your heart shatters.

You wait for him to leave in a hurry, only he does the last thing you expect of the Wolverine. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You close your eyes as the tears begin to fall against your will. 

Logan strokes your back. He doesn’t offer any words of comfort, but he doesn’t need to, his presence alone is enough.

His trimmed beard, bristles against your hair as he places a kiss on the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair as he holds you. 

It's hard to say how long the two of you stand there like that. Only when your body stops shaking do you finally look up through tear streamed eyes.  Logan looks down at you, his face is lined with concern. 

“You good?”

“I will be.” Your voice is broken from crying. “I-”

“I know, Bub.” He smiles your way, one you’ve not seen, perhaps ever.

It's soft, sympathetic but filled with adoration. He pushes the strand of hair, now sodden with tears, back behind your ear. His finger lingers on the curve of the bone for a moment or two before he pulls back. 

“Bar?”

“Bar.”

Things change when Laura leaves. Not massively, and not entirely for the worst.

You and Logan had started sharing the bed, not like that (unfortunately), but sleeping next to one another. It was comfier than the sofa and his body curled around yours made you sleep a hell of a lot more soundly. Suddenly years of insomnia were cured by his muscled warmth curled around you like a safety blanket.

He never made a move to further it, even if you had once or twice tried to entice him by grinding your backside against his morning wood. The man was nothing if not resilient as he rolled away, grunting.

The two of you had been getting to know one another, you had resolved to treat him like a whole new man. This revelation meant that their differences weren’t such a blow anymore, you didn’t actively compare the two of them as much.

You had created a clear picket line in your head and it seemed to be working. They were two different versions of the same man, each with their own merits and disadvantages. 

They weren’t to be compared.

The two of you had started a ritual of movie nights, evenings where you’d sit a little too close on the couch and pretend it wasn’t happening. He’d share a blanket he knew he didn’t need just to get close to you. It was a little uncomfortable when Wade asked to come under the blanket but you enjoyed the time spent with the clown,  

In fact, your favourite night had been when you, Wade and Al had all sat down to watch the Notebook - the movie Logan point blank refused watch.

Yes, the movie he objected to so strongly, then proceeded to watch from behind the couch, standing awkwardly on the threshold of the lounge. Where he lingered for the first half an hour pretending to have no interest in it. 

When the end credits came around he was back under the blanket with you and Wade, utterly refusing to admit that he’d cried. 

That argument with Wade had gotten heated and he’d put three little tears in your blanket, but it was one of your fondest memories in this apartment. 

It had been three weeks now. Only two of them had been spent hunting for a room that you could afford on a barista’s salary, which was the only job you were qualified for after dropping off the planet for the past ten years.

Colossus had offered you your old teaching position though you didn’t want to cramp Laura’s style and you didn’t think you could face stepping foot back in that mansion, too many of your ghosts lingered there. The same could be said for Logan, though he had found much better paying work at St Margarets.

He and Wade did odd jobs, merc work to pay the rent. They killed bad guys and got paid for it, and boy they got paid a hell of a lot more than you.

The coffee shop below Wade’s apartment, or waking hell, as you’d come to know it was your slice of a regular life; trying to push your circle peg into a triangle hole.

Its a 24-hour coffee shop, cause who doesn’t need caffeine at 3am? Tch. New York. You’re leaning on the counter a million miles away, contemplating if the graveyard shifts are worth the illusion of paying your way when Logan makes up most of your share of the rent anyway.

Your singular customer is a young guy typing away on his laptop, desperately trying to finish what looks like a college essay. He’s eleven espressos in and has been here since before your shift started at 5pm. You haven’t been told if you can cut someone off, but surely that much caffeine must count as overserving. 

The bell above the door tingles loudly, the warm lights illuminate his red mask. 

Wade.

“Hey angel baby!” He comes to the counter, pretending to read the board as if he hasn’t been here a million times before.

“Hi Wade.” You smile tiredly at the man. “What’cha want? It's on the house!”

“Ooooh, gimme’ a Caramel Macchiato but hit me with like 6 shots espresso, extra caramel and don’t skimp on the whipped cream - I like to call this the don't stop til dawn.”

“Your insides must be a mess.” You shake your head and get to making his drink. 

“How’s the soul crushing service industry treating ya?” He asks, leaning one hand on the counter.

“It’s okay. A little boring, but not so bad, nobody's shooting at me.” You motion downwards with your eyes to the fresh bullet holes in his red suit.

“Ha! Yeahhh. But it's good old fashioned fun, beating guys to a pulp, saving kids from trees, taking candy from cats.” You roll your eyes at the man. “But they say, if you love your job you never work a day in your life! And boy, I love my job.”

You're steaming the milk when he speaks up again, shouting loudly over the machine. “You should come and work with me and Logi Bear. He’s 10% less of an old grumpy fuck when you’re around.”

He’s still shouting when the machine quietens, making your cringe a little as the kid looks your way. This isn’t the first time Wade’s broached the subject with you.

“I get you wanna move out, we love having you, but I get that Al’s old lady smell can get sorta’ overwhelming after a while.”

“Wade.” You sigh, admonishing his jokes about the lady who you’ve grown to care for in the past month. “If you didn’t live in a two bed, I’d love to stay, but it's just too small and I want you to have your bedroom back. I hate feeling like a burden.”

You secure the lid to his drink when its finally complete. “One heart attack in a cup.” 

“My favourite.” His mask contorts around the eyes showing his smile. “Oh Wolvie’s upstairs in bad shape. Something took a fuckin’ chunk outta him.”

“What the fuck Wade?! Why didn’t you lead with that?” You’re pulling off your apron and halfway around the counter before you remember your shift isn’t over for another hour.  

“Cause’ then you wouldn’t have made my fast juice.”

Ah fuck it.

“Don’t steal the cash register.” You warn the kid looking your way. “He’ll hunt you down and beat the crap out of you.”

Wade waves at the kid behind you, he has his macchiato in one hand and baby knife in his other for special effect. The kid gives a look of ‘Jeez’ before returning to his work.

“You coming?” You ask when your almost half way through the door.

“Nah - saving innocents makes me hungy. Fork hands has his healing factor. He'll be fine.” Wade replies dismissively.

Huffing you turn on your heel and practically run to the apartment. 

A chunk out of him? 

Logan's healing factor was significantly better without the adamantium poisoning but surely he could die. In an instant you’re back in North Dakota, holding his hand as he fades away. 

Your breath is heavy as you take the steps two at a time. 

Not again. 

The door is thrown open and instead of chaos you find the lights dimmed, candles all over the apartment and there Logan stands in a new plaid buttondown and his finest wranglers. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers in those veined hands you love so much. It's like something out of a Danielle Steel novel and you utterly melt.

The panic that had clutched your heart recedes. Your anxiety releases its grip on you. 

“You’re not hurt?” 

“No, bub. I’m fine. Sorry for the clown. He offered to help and I…”

You shake your head and smile at him, hesitantly you take a step forward. When you’re close enough he hands them your way. “I have it on good authority, they’re your favourites.”

“They are.”

“I wanna give you what you deserve, sweetheart.” He starts, it's like he’s rehearsed it in his head. Little do you know it's all his thought about for the past three weeks. “You deserve more than a romp in the woods, or an alley.” 

He seems to cringe at this before continuing.

“I’m not like the other guy. He was a goddamn anchor being, hero through and through from what I hear about him. I’m angry, I kill people and I drink too goddamn much, but when you look at me, I feel like I could be him.” For the first time, it is him that takes your hand in his much larger one. “Do you know how jealous of that asshole I am, Bub? That he got you first? That he got to have your uncomplicated love. If you’d been older in my timeline, I would've’ met you first, I wouldn’t have looked twice at another and I’d have fallen for you the second you looked up at me from beneath those eyelashes, how could I not when everything about you is so easy to love?” 

You’ve always been a crier, and this is no different. The man is stamping down every single one of your insecurities, reassuring you as you go. Making you feel more loved then you’ve ever felt before.

“I adore you. From your crappy cooking-”

“-Hey.”

“Your porny books you think I don’t see, to the way you cry at movies, how much you love our daughter. I fuckin’ love you Y/N. Its messy and complicated, I’m not sure if you could-”

In a total role reversal it is you who cuts him off, grabbing his face in your palms and dragging his face down to yours. Your mouths join for the first time in weeks, it is hot and full of desire and love. It's like the two of you are releasing all of your tension into this kiss, finally the air has been cleared and it's rejuvenating. 

You press your forehead to his, gasping for breath as his kisses steal the air from your lungs.

“Lo, I guarantee every version of me loves you, even if you were too blind to see it in your world.” 

“You were a married woman in my world, bub.”

You gasp theatrically. “Adulturerer.”

“You’ve spent too much time with that fuckin’ idiot.” He kisses your lips, though you don’t let it turn into anything deeper, as you pull back rubbing your nose against his. 

“Fornicator.” 

“tch… stop.” He groans, grabbing your ass pulling you into his bulge, you bite his lip with a giggle. “Why do you have these lined up?”

He never gets his answer as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his back and carries you through to the bedroom. You pull away from his mouth, looking over to the set dinner table.

“The food… you went to all that effort!” He is kissing your neck, nipping and lathering the bites with his tongue. 

“Can’t cook for shit, darlin’. It’s take out, we can heat it up. I’m hungry for your fuckin’ sweet cunt right now. “

Your lower stomach clenches at his positively filthy words, you join your lips back to his. His teeth nip at your lip as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, running the tip along your teeth. 

Before there had been need, but now, you’re both desperate. You’ve had a mere taste of what the other has to offer and now you’ve starved yourself for months. 

“Not gonna’ last long on the first, darlin’.” He groans into your mouth as your hand works its way into his pants. He is eager as he throws you back onto the bed and is already working at peeling your black jeans down your legs. “Those fuckin’ shorts you sleep in, fuck. I’ve been dreamin’ about buryin’ myself in ya’ for weeks.”

“Please, Lo.” You’re not sure what you’re already begging for but you are desperate. You’re left in your uniform tee and panties, as he slowly unbuttons his button down, slowly revealing the white undershirt beneath. You’ve never found collarbones particularly attractive, but the tanned skin stretched across his is quite frankly delectable. 

You pull your shirt over your head, all too eager to be rid of the reminder of the job you should by all rights be at right now. Your bra is quick to follow.

“Those gorgeous tits, been thinking of these every fucking night.” You groan at his admission. He himself is shirtless, you have half a mind to return the same complement as your hands brush against his perfectly sculpted pecs. 

This man was the perfect specimen, it was unfair, t shirts should be outlawed for him. He grabs the waistband of your panties. 

‘Snikt’ and a rip sound and you are utterly bare before him, laying across Wade’s bed. 

Those gorgeous strong hands trace the planes of your body, circling your nipples before his mouth takes their place. 

He groans as his hands descend to your core. “All this for me? I’m gonna’ fuckin’ slide in, Baby.” 

And he does, two fingers push through your tight slick opening, three weeks of foreplay have left you soaking wet and wanting. How can you live with a man who looks the way he does, who consistently works out in the living room shirtless and not have the ocean in your panties. 

It seems Logan has had all he can take as he slides a third finger in, pumping it in and out of you, rubbing at your clit with his thumb. Gasping you grab at your sheets desperate to anchor yourself. 

He kisses up your breast, lavishing your chest in kisses and bites. Never enough to leave a mark but just enough to excite you. 

When he’s at your neck he leans in, whispering into your ear. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin that pussy.”

You can’t help it, maybe you’re a whore for this man, but you don’t fucking care. Your legs part even further on the bed.

“Please, Logan. I need you to fuck me.”

He grins savagely, pushing his already undone belt and jeans down his hips. He’s back up and claiming your mouth, your legs wrapped around his ass, pulling you down to him before he knows it. 

One hand is bearing his weight as the other disappears, he lines himself up at your entrance, the head of his cock breaching your folds. He’s thick, thicker than you remember, but there isn’t any discomfort this time. He settles for a moment, his forehead against yours. His mouth dips to join your lips, his tongue lashing out and fucking your mouth as his hips leap forward spearing you on his cock. The bed creaks with the power of his hips as he fucks you hard into the matress. 

Skin slapping on skin is all that can be heard as he readjusts onto his knees, he’s desperate to be as deep as possible and you need the same thing. 

“Lo-”

“I know, darlin’.” He grabs your waist, lifting you as if you weigh nothing at all and flips you over. Suddenly you’re astride him, your knees either side of his hips as his head rests in the pillows. 

His eyes are distracted by your tits as he smirks, happy with the view. 

You ache for him, so you reach down, lining his thick purple headed member with your core before you sink down in one stroke, his extended groan absolutely wrecks you as his big hands come to rest on the meat of your hips. 

You rest your hands on his amply hair covered chest, using his pecs as leverage before you raise your hips before slamming back down and bottoming him out. 

He’s so deep inside you, the tip of him must be brushing your goddamn cervix as you raise yourself once more, until he almost slips out before meeting his hips once more. 

Logan’s strength never fails to surprise you as his hands follow your lead yet help lift you through the manoeuvre. 

You’re bouncing on his cock, quick rise and fall sporadically grinding your clit deliciously into his pelvis. 

Logan feels fucking amazing inside of you, maybe its been the buildup of weeks but you find yourself heading towards the dive faster than ever before. 

“Ride my cock,sweetheart. That’s it, make yourself feel good.”

Gasping at his words and the change of position as he sits up, wrapping his arms around you and claiming your mouth. The second you find the angle that feels amazing against your clit, you hit it again and again, grinding hard against him.

“Lo - I’m gonna … I’m gonna -” You crash before you can get the words out, your toes curl by his knees and your whole body seizes in ecstasy. The world feels right as the stars appear behind your eyes.

The world stopped for you for a moment but not for Logan. He has bought his knees up and is pistoning his hips into your contorting body. He’s holding you against him, groaning into your neck as he continues to fuck your clenching pussy relentlessly.

“Oh fuck … your so fucking tight. Fucking perfect cunt- made - for - me.” He growls into your neck, but you’re too cock drunk to hear it properly, as he frantically thrusts his powerful hips up and into you. 

“Where? ” He pulls back, never slowing his hips as he grabs your cheeks with one hand. Your sweat laden face, vacant and looking back at him, your cunt hasn’t stopped clenching around him as he plunders your depths, his voice is strained as he asks again  “Darlin’...you gotta … tell me … where?”

“...inside, Lo. Please come inside me…” Your so overstimulated, you could cry.  The sound of his balls slapping against skin as he thrusts upwards deep inside of you, whilst he pulls your body down. He’s so fucking deep inside of you, your pussy squelching from a mixture of precum and your arousal.

With another string of lewd words he’s coming hard, Logan’s head has fallen back against the headboard exposing the thick chords of muscle, you can't help sinking your teeth into it, you dip your hand and rub at your clit clumsily, you’re so fucking overstimulated from watching him you follow him over the precipice once more, giving him an insanely tight sheath to come in. 

“That’s it, take it all, sweetheart” He groans as he continues to slowly pump his seed deep within you

Gasping you fall slack in his arms, your bones are jelly and your muscles ache, you really are a pillow princess. 

“Still with me?” You manage to nod your clammy forehead against his pec, you currently have your cheek squished against. He chuckles, as he lies back against the pillows, leaving his cock still inside of you, you can feel him leaking out of you as he softens a little, recovering for what you imagine will be another enthusiastic round if history is a teacher. 

You are utterly fucked out as you lie on his chest, listening to his breath with his cum slowly leaking from your abused hole. 

The two of you have never needed words, you lie against his chest, the hands you adore so much, come out to stroke your hair.

Rubbing soothingly at your scalp before running his calloused fingers through the locks and repeating. 

When you’ve finally gathered enough strength you lean on your hands, looking up at him.

“Welcome back, bub.”

“Hello.” You smile shyly, like you hadn’t just sunk your canines into his neck whilst wantonly riding his cock to oblivion. 

“You okay?” He asks, his hand rising to stroke your swollen bottom lip.

“Someone fucked me brain dead - but yeah, I’m good.” You smirk, nipping at his thumb.

He grins wolfishly and chuckles with his whole body, the movement causes his cock to move inside of you. Slowly you feel him hardening once more.

“You can still talk, Darlin’. Means I haven’t done my job properly.” The predatory gaze in his eyes excites and scares you in equal parts. Though you’re probably asking for trouble when you take his thumb back in your mouth. 

It's light outside when you finally have to tap out. 

Your pussy is aching, your ass is stinging from the new sensation, your jaw throbs and your entire body is boneless. 

You can’t quite catch your breath and your cunt is leaking so much cum, that you’re probably 10% Logan at this point. 

The Wolverine has utterly devoured you, making up for three weeks of torment in one night. Though he’s not all bad as he feeds you noodles from chopsticks as you lay on his muscled hair laden thighs. 

When Logan had suggested food, you’d had to stop him from eating Wontons from your belly button as none of your holes were currently operational. 

The two of you have dressed, though that is a strong use of the word as you’re wearing only his button down and him only his underwear. 

You’re lazing on the couch watching reruns of Friends as your bed sorely needs fresh sheets and a new base. Poor Wade, you’d have to replace it before you move out. Like he could read your mind, Logan begins. 

“I found a new place, its nothing fancy but its got four walls and no roommates.” You smile at him around your mouthful of noodles as he takes his own bite.

Sitting up you smile. “That’s great news, Lo.”

“I uh- wanted to see, if you’d wanna come with me.”

You can’t help your grin. 

fin.

I am currently posting this at the airport before my flight. I love you all! 💖

[zombieumbreon]

She’s Insatiable Pt 2.1

Part 1

Ft: Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari, Tokoyami Fumikage, Hitoshi Shinso, Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya, Keigo Takami, Mashirao Ojiro, Neito Monoma

Cw: 18+ nsfw, fingering, oral- m receiving, v penetration, biting, Hawks being rough, praise

Sero sighed, “ok, love. I’ll fix it.”

You groaned, still in Kirishima’s arms, your own arms wrapping around his neck as he shifted you. “Want me to help you clean up, pretty?”

Pink hinted at your cheeks, nodding your head, “please.”

He smiled, disappearing with you to your bathroom. Still holding you, he turns the water on, checking the temperature. His fingers massage your scalp, working your sweet smelling shampoo in. He’s gentle washing the rest of your body, watching you with a gentleness in his eyes as you return the act.

Back in the living room.

"You could call Oijirou, maybe Monoma," Shinso shrugged.

"Maybe, who else could I trust though. When she's like this, phew," he exhaled hard, eyes going wide for a second for emphasis on his words.

Fumikage turns his head, still tired, "What about Hawks? Surely the former number 2 has enough stamina for her...maybe." Sero gives him a nod, the two typing away on their phones.

When Kirishima returns, you in his arms, the majority of them are somewhat dressed with at least sweats.

You're still in the redhead's arms when the doorbell rings, your boyfriend rushing to answer it.

"Perfect," he sighs, returning to the living room.

Your eyes are hazy when you look at the new group of heroes in your living room, hips rocking on Kirishima's fingers. Neito Monoma, Mashirao Ojiro, Keigo Takami. Your face flushed, the squelching sound seemed louder than ever to you.

It happened faster than you processed the actions, Ojiro's cock rocking into your mouth as Monoma pushed into you from behind. You expected the blonde behind you to be rough, but not the cock that was currently making it hard to breathe. You're definitely going to be hoarse after this, your eyes flutter as you blink tears away looking up at him.

"Such a pretty girl, crying for me," your eyes widen when he says this. He's always so gentle, so soft, but not right now. Not with you. But, that just made it harder for you to hold on. You feel yourself getting closer, the more he praises you, the more he tells you how pretty you look the closer you are. He continues mumbling soft praises to you, all the while he unloads in your mouth. Without the cock in your mouth you're louder, rocking back against Monoma. His fingers spread you as he pulls out, covering your slit with his cum.

The older blonde is eyeing you, holding a hand out to help you stand. And no sooner than you're on your feet does he have you lifted against the wall, one leg over his arm, the other around his waist. And he's slamming himself into you ruthlessly. His teeth are rough on your neck, on your nipples, everywhere he bites. His fingers and nails are digging into your flesh, the sensations building another coil inside.

"Kei-keigo," you manage you whine.

That just urges him to be rougher, pistoning into you, his cock head hitting just the perfect spot. And you break. You soak his abdomen, moaning louder than you had for the others. But, he doesn't stop. Not even when he's pumping his cum into you, fucking back into you when it leaks out. Not until he has you cumming for him again, and again, in any position he can bend you.

When he's finally tired he has you cradled in his arms, fingers rubbing circles on all the marks he's left. "Sorry about that," he chuckles softly when you nuzzle into him, coming down from the pleasure.

"You good, Sweet?" Your boyfriend grins, leaning over the couch.

[peaachypie]

Payback

Warning :

(cnc, breeding kink, uniform/masked kink, dark!Miguel, p in V, cunnilingus, lactation kink, infidelity and i think that it)

" Coach Terry has a wife ?"

Miguel raise his head, stopping what he was working on.

" mh mh ! Her name is [Y/N], she is so nice, she has a kid too ! He does a lot of.... jokes about it"

" jokes ?"

" yeah, when we don't make enough point he says something like : if i knew kid will shoot that bad i wouldn't have use this excuse to save my marriage ! "

" ... what the..."

" I don't really understand but [Y/N] is so nice with us ... and pretty !"

Gabriella says happily, preparing her bag for her soccer training.

" with his face ? She can't be that pretty."

He says with a unamused chuckle.

" dad ! Don't be a meanie ! "

She scolds him with a frown.

" i'm just being honest."

He shrugs.

" you're just jealous "

She hum with a confident smile, Miguel groan slightly but with a soft smile. He doesn't take it in a wrong way.

" shut your mouth and eat."

" aye !"

She quickly stuff her mouth with food as the big man let out a sigh.

~~

Coming out of his car, Miguel give Gabi her bag as she run out to the changing room.

He walks slowly toward the bleachers.

" um excuse me "

He raise his eyes away from his phone with a slight annoyed stare, he isn't the social type of man. But his hard face quickly fade away as your sigh. He looks up and down at you, taking a good look on your hair, face and body. Especialy body.

" yes ?"

He answers finaly, putting away his phone.

You smile kindly at him. He sees your mouth open to talk but no sound come to his ears. Too focus on staring at you.

How could Terry pull a beautifull woman like you ?

Did you really have a child with this ... thing ?

Does your nipple are hard because of the wind or ?

What ?

He frown at his own mind comment.

He isn't the type of asking himself that, or even staring at a woman body. He doesn't feel guitly too long. He couldn't stop looking at you, he couldn't stop thinking on the fact that he is so much better than Terry.

He could make you scream his name, in every position, everywhere.

He takes a deep breath, he could feel his cock throbbing against his legs.

Dammit. It's been a while since he wanted someone that bad, and he isn't really patient about those thing.

He want you so bad, he want to see you cry on his cock. He want to see you beg for his cock.

The training start and quickly come to an end. His eyes switching to Gabriella then to you. Your ass seem so soft, and your breast so full of milk. He just want to relieve you by sucking your nipple.

He groan.

" fuck..."

~~

23:05 p.m

Gabriella was already in bed, everything was calm until the city needed him, well the city needed Spiderman.

He wasn't really in the mood, he wasn't known for being the " friendly neighborhood spiderman " .

His duty end quickly, beating up vilains wasn't what he prefer to do but it took off your body out of his mind.

He swing around the building before stopping somewhere high. Looking around until he see someone getting in trouble.

You.

He doesn't have any spidersense but if he had one, it would have been so excited right now.

" please ! Someone help ! "

You cry out at someone snatch your purse out of your hand. The vilain didn't run away, too slow for the hero who catch him easily with his web.

Miguel goes grab the purse, not without a dead stare and an agressive behavior.

He slowly goes to you, for you it was nothing.

For him, he was just holding himself from slamming you against the wall and pulling down your pantie down your legs.

" thanks you so much spiderman ..."

You smile to the masked hero, with a gratitude smile.

He keep his eyes on you.

Your tears.

He wasn't listening to his mind anymore, he doesn't care anymore.

" let me take you back to your place."

He goes to you and pick you up in his arm, shooting a web and flying around the city toward your apartment.

Opening the window was the easiest part of this. Putting back on your legs, you turn to him.

" thanks you, you're so-"

" nothing come for free."

He says in a hard voice.

" what ?"

" I need a payback. That fair for what i do in the city. Dont you think ?"

" but... i don't have any money"

" don't worry princesa."

He grab your face with his finger. Holding you.

" i'm not asking for money."

Your eyes widden at his word. One blink was enough to see how fast he was to ripped your dress in a half. You let out a whine as your breast are now exposed to the masked man.

" w...wait ! I ... i have a husband ! And-"

" and ? You want me to keep saving the city don't you ? Who knows maybe your husband will need my help."

You open your mouth to repost but the only sound who come out is a squeak as the hero deprograms his mask over his nose to take a lick on your hardden nipple. You try to move away from his grip, but Miguel hold you close against him. A second moan escape your lips as he take one of your nipple in his mouth, sucking and slighting bitting it. He let out a growl when the warm milk run down his throat.

He never felt this tight in his costume before.

Your hand stay on his shoulder, trying to push him without really trying ... you could do more than that. Was it the fear ?

You close your eyes, your legs shaking a bit as he keep the nipple in his mouth without forgetting the other, playing with it before giving each little buttons a lick.

You didn't dare open your eyes, fighting yourself not to ask for more, or to make too much noise about your forbidden pleasure.

The next thing you could feel was the pillow on your face when he throw you on the bed. Your stomach on the mattress and your legs spread on the edge of the bed.

" what are you ...! No !"

But he didn't listen, raising your dress over your ass. Kneeling in front of your private area, taking a smell on your pantie making your squirm.

He waited for this for so long, he though of this for so long everytime he would jerk off thinking of you. Moving your pantie to the side, his tongue find quickly the way toward your clit. Licking and sucking on it as you bite on your pillow. Tears falling down your cheek as he eat you out like a starved man. His tongue moving inside your gummy wall, sucking up your juice. Your wetness dripping under his chin.

" p...please...haangh...s...stop...."

You whisper quietly, to give yourself good conscience but not wanted it to end either.

" i...i'm sorry Ter...haaah...!"

You let out a scream when he start playing again with the little budge of nerves.

Turning your eyes to him, you looked at him.

Miguel was kneeling in front of your pussy, sucking it while moving his hand up and down his throbbing cock. Precum coming out his urethra.

It was so big, too big.

He get up again, slidding down your pantie on your ankle. Teasing your wet hole with his red tip.

You should scream, but you just press the pillow harder against your mouth.

He spread your pussy lips with one hand, the other holding his cock in front of your entrance.

" Fuck ... look at that, this pretty pussy all wet for me ... you were waiting for this uh ? Someone with a big cock to fill you up properly ? You wanted it, you waited to be fuck like a slut."

His voice is strict and hard, making your pussy clench on nothing. He let out a dark chuckle out of his lips. Pressing the tip at your entrance before slidding inside without putting force.

He groan between his teeth as you let out a moan in the pillow.

He didn't wait for you to get used to his shape. Putting his rough hand on your hips and pouding inside you like a beast.

You cry on the pillow.

" sorrysorrysorry...i'm...hanh ! Sorry...ha...haa...!"

Do you apologize for your infidelity or for loving it a bit too much ?

The wet sound of your pussy being filled up by the hero are the only sound filling the room. Tears falling just like your wetness down your legs.

You could feel the knot inside you getting bigger as he does firm circle around your puffy clit.

" taking me so well princesa..."

He groan, a mix of whimper and a growl.

" taking my cock so well ... is it better than your husband ? Stop apologizing and answers."

An hard slap on your ass wake you up from your bubble of pleasure.

" pleasepleaseplease ...!"

" are you begging me to stop or to cum ?"

" please...'me cum...! Ha...aaa...f...feels good...!"

" yeah ... it does feels good uh ? You want to cum uh ? Clenching around me like if you don't want me to take it out. You want me to make you a momma again ?"

" pleaseplease...'anna be a mom again..."

You cry out, your mind foggy. It was too much, the thrust, the circle around your clit.

Your eyes rolled back to your head as your legs start shaking. The knot in your stomach exploding in a powerfull orgasm.

Miguel groan, he was holding himself for too long. How was he suppose to hold when your pussy feel so tight around his cock ? He groan one last time before filling your womb full of his cum. He stay inside for a few minute before take a step back. Watching his semence dripping out your pussy.

" that a good girl. You did good for me."

He bend over to you, taking your hair to raise your head at him.

" that pussy is mine now."

You nod, obedient.

He was so violent, as if he wanted to mold your pussy to his shape.

He put a kiss on your forehead before putting you to bed, stroking your hair for a few second, then leaving quickly before your husband comes back.

~~

" dad ?"

Gabriella looks at him.

" yes ?"

He raise his eyes to his daughter.

" Coach Terry was angry today."

" was he ?"

" he said [Y/N] doesn't want to be in the same room as him, and that he knew his marriage was bulls-"

" don't you dare say the word."

" ... oke"

Gabriella pout before going back to her room.

Miguel turn back his eyes to what he was working on.

I should reward her for that. Seem like her pussy is really mine now.

[cenorii]

Generalized theory about re9

I'm looking forward to re9 as much as you are, and I have a lot of logical conclusions about what kind of story we'll be greeted with in it. But Capcom is good at surprising people, so my thoughts on this installment may just be a grain of sand in the sea or a half-truth.

In this theory I will give my view on the plot of re9 and give my arguments, so sit back, there will be lots of facts and pictures!

Let's start with the fact that back in 2016 Capcom threw in an interesting plot detail for us called Umbrella Corps. I can't call it a real game, it's more of a story DLC for all games.

The plot: the main character is an unnamed mercenary nicknamed 3A-7. He is part of the Umbrella Corps, a secret corps that belongs to Blue Umbrella, an organization that "reformed and got on the right path". Didn't it seem like a lie back in re7, right? The purpose of this corps is to search for bioweapon samples in quarantined areas that the BSAA has failed to sterilize well. The main character is involved in an operation called "The Experiment" but survives every step of the way due to his combat experience. The plot glimpses an unknown Corps Leader (Executive) who even his subordinates know nothing about. One man who sent 3A-7 on missions once wondered why this Executive was so feared, why he was so intimidating, and why he knew so much about the events in re4, as if he had been to that island himself. But only two men survived the events in re4 - Leon and Wesker. A male subordinate attempted to get the Executive's DNA, but disappeared in the process. He was killed for wanting to know the truth and was replaced by a woman who also knew nothing about her boss. At the end of the story, the main character survives even after the most difficult challenge and is contacted by this mysterious Executive and told that he has plans for 3A-7. The main character is voiced by D.C. Douglas, just like the Executive, whose voice can be heard in co-op mode at the end of the missions.

His phrases: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pe7LEaA7em8

Albert Wesker is also voiced by Douglas. So why would Capcom take on such a recognizable voice? Why voice two characters at once with that voice? It can only make sense if the Executive turns out to be a suddenly alive Wesker. If you listen to his intonation, it's safe to say it's him, or his clone or twin brother.

We now know that Blue Umbrella are no longer the honest people they try to make themselves out to be in re7. In the "Not a Hero" DLC, Chris says he doesn't trust them. He has good intuition. It is in re7 that it is revealed that the Blue Umbrella are using Wesker's designs to create weapons effective against biological threats. Various firearms signed as "Albert W." are now being used by BSAA soldiers. Isn't that strange? No matter how good these weapons are, naming them after a bioterrorist and enemy of humanity is a strange move, isn't it? Someone secretly respects him.

Chris's trust in the BSAA dwindles to the point where he creates his own small unit, the "Hound Wolf Squad". Once again, his intuition doesn't let him down. At the end of the re8 storyline, Chris discovers an unpleasant truth... The soldiers the BSAA sent into "village" to contain the Mold have turned out to be biological weapons. They are creatures completely indistinguishable from humans, and look just like Chris. They have his face.

But why? Why Chris?

To answer that question, we need to go back to the Umbrella Corps storyline.

The mercenaries in the Corps have been collecting bioweapons samples for the mysterious Executive with Wesker's voice. The Corps is owned by Blue Umbrella, who cooperate with the BSAA and supply them with their weapons and medical supplies. It's safe to say that the Corps is also cooperating with the BSAA. These three organizations have created a new bioweapon indistinguishable from a normal human being using Chris' DNA. Hero DNA.

Why would the Executive want a bioweapon with Chris's appearance? Chris to Wesker has always been someone he considered his equal. Chris is "one of his best men." Who else but him would have thought of that? Who else besides him will speak in the voice of Douglas and hide from people? All of these details blatantly hint that Wesker is alive and involved.

Another interesting detail that also hints that Wesker is alive. Yes, it's my old theory. In re8 on the Heisenberg board this photo can be found. I originally thought it was his own photo, however why would he want his own photo on his own information board? The person in the photo is clearly older and has different facial features.

The red line from this photo leads to Chris. Heisenberg sees a connection between the two men, but who is this mysterious old man?

It's Wesker.

I'm 98% sure of it. Look closely at the points of interest: facial features, the shape of the nose, the distance from the nose to the mouth, the shape of the face, and the shape of the chin. Heisenberg knows from somewhere that Wesker is alive. But judging by the insignificance of this photo on the board, he doesn't think it's true or anything important.

Putting all this information together, we get a picture of a possible re9 plot:

Wesker is again the antagonist\anti-villain, but perhaps not the main one. He operates from the shadows, running Umbrella Corps. He's obsessed with Chris and hides his existence from everyone, killing those who try to figure out his identity. Perhaps in the plot, Chris will meet an unnamed 3A-7 who is connected to the conspiracy between Blue Umbrella and BSAA. A major upheaval of all these organizations is coming and unexpected secrets will be revealed. Perhaps Ada Wong will be involved, as her concept is in re8 and the idea could still be realized. Wesker must have become very weak after the events of re5, or something happened to his body, which is why he can no longer maintain his standard image and his hair grows a lot. The plot will not be tied to defeating him, because he is not the main evil in this story.

If BSAA has a big conflict brewing, then Jill will be affected. She could team up with Chris again, or she could get her own unique storyline (or DLC). Also, I think Claire might help her brother in some way by using TerraSave's resources, because that organization fights for human rights and in this case, Chris' rights were violated when his DNA was stolen. Looking back at this picture of the story, I'm starting to believe the rumors that the game will get very large scale and maybe even get an open world.

However, all of this can be forgotten and discarded at Capcom's will. As logical as my re9 story picture looks, the writers may do something completely different that will surprise us all. Would I be upset if they scrapped such a logical and cool plot? A little bit. I'll be interested in playing and seeing what OTHER plot they come up with. I'll still be interested in what Capcom will try to surprise us with. Re9 is definitely a very important game for the whole story, because a lot of things will be dotted here. And even if they end up scrapping the idea of a living Wesker, it won't make re9 a bad game in my eyes. I will love these theories and the various AU's with alive Wesker even after the release of this game.

If you're wondering how Wesker survived in volcano, then I suggest you read my theory, in which I delved into this issue so much that I figured out the melting point of his clothes. It's here. Also in this theory there is a detailed analysis of the bioweapon-Chris, possible ways to understand the plot of Umbrella Corps and etc.

Thanks for reading!

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Homelander being obsessed with his sister HC

Warnings: siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, dubcon, manipulation, stalking, basically all the horrible parts of HL come out to play, MC has blonde hair and blue eyes like HL, different plot than 'All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed'.

II III IV V

Cuz you know all this man wants is a family after being depraved of it from the moment he was born

He’s been alone, starved of physical and emotional comfort

HL just wants SOMEONE to call his own

And when Vogelbaum tells him that he’s not alone in the world, that he has someone in the world, he insisted that he meets this new sibling. What was Vought planning? Why was their newest supe baby sharing his DNA?

Visiting you in Vought's secret nursery, there was an immediate shock of electricity shooting through his brain Already at several months old, you could see his face clearly and gurgled happily, reaching to the young man. Homelander stamps his claim on you immediately. Whatever the scientist had planned for you, HL would intervene. Looking down at your sweet, chubby face was enough to win him over to your side

It would take over him, he’d become a man possessed. He tried to finish all of his tasks as soon as he could so that he could visit you in the nursery.You were now his top priority

His psychotic tendencies were already starting to show early on which worried many of the executives and scientist that were in charge of your well being. They decided that they would not make the same mistake twice. Adoptive parents were looked into. Homelander caught wind. He wasn't opposed, though he'd miss being able to see his little sister easily. Having two actual parents to love her was way better than being monitored and doted on by simple staff.

There were certain mandates that HL insisted on: he'd get the last say on who you went to and he had the right to visit you whenever he wanted.

His jam packed schedule made it harder to visit you regularly though. Stillwell always had him busy either with the marketing team or getting his face out there with missions and other acts of service. You were always on his mind though.

He'd send your adoptive parents mountains of presents for you and wrote you volumes of letters (though at 4 years old you were unable to read). He made sure you'd want for nothing even if your adoptive parents were already well off.

Friction arose when the occasion of your 6th birthday came up and Homelander wanted to take the day off. Madelyn refused his request, claiming that he had more important things to attend to. That was possibly the first time Stillwell was the receiver of his intimidating glower. There was nothing more important than you. Stillwell reminds him that if any of their enemies were to find out about your existence that you could prove to be a weakness to HL rather than the blessing he found you to be. Through association, he could potentially be endangering you with his visits.

Deep down, he knew Stillwell was right. The greater the hero he became, the more he'd be putting you at risk if anyone found out. So until you were old enough to protect yourself, Homelander made the painful decision to keep his distance.

For fourteen years he kept a wide berth from you, his one true weakness. In that time he climbed to the pinnacle of stardom. All of America loved him. Including you and your family.

But you didn't remember much of when you were younger. Didn't remember the bond you share with him. You admire him as the hero you know as Homelander. Not as your brother, not even as John. No, your brothers were the ones your parents had after you were welcomed into their family. Two little brothers who followed you everywhere because they were in such awe that their big sister was a supe. You flew them around, let them show you off to their friends, and protected them from bullies. They were your number one fans.

By your twentieth birthday, Homelander came across your application into the Seven that Madelyn had been hiding. While he hadn't seen you in fourteen years, he still tried to keep his information on you up to date via Vought's archives. Since you were a supe, you went to special 'doctor's appointments', but they were all Vought orchestrated to see what you were really capable of.

He watches your try-out video incessantly, marveling in the beautiful, vivacious young lady you'd become. The little girl he'd last seen was gone. Not a hint of her could be found, only the way her smile made her eyes so bright. She was charismatic with the people interviewing her. Perhaps he unblinkingly stared at her video a little too much. Not aware of the connection, Maeve pointed out how often he'd watched that video. He doesn't want to tell Maeve the truth. Stillwell's warning ringing in his ears that no one should know how the two were related. But you were a hero of your own now. Grown up and more than capable of wielding your powers to protect yourself. Reluctantly the words leave past his lips but he did take some satisfaction from the rounding of her eyes.

"This secret is not to be shared with anyone else." His fingers snatch her arm before she leaves his presence. Maeve pivots on her heels, glaring at him as she tries to wrench her arm free.This only spurns him to tighten his grip. "Do you understand? If I find out that you put her in danger because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut, I'll kill you."

HL does everything he could to get you into the Seven but in the end Stillwell held the last say and decided to go with Starlight.That wouldn't be the end to his obsession. Not in the least bit. Now he made it a priority to meet you. He was nervous but once you began to spout praises toward him, HL relaxed. You were excited that THE Homelander was giving you the time of day. "So you remember me?"

That caught you off guard. "Remember you?"

Those two words cause his smile to falter and something dark drop to his stomach. His mouth forms your name, your civilian name that you hadn't told him prior. "Surely. . . you remember me. . . You can't forget about your only. . ." He seemed to be losing himself in panic. You didn't understand the tears that were pooling on his lower lids as he advanced toward you and grabbed you by the shoulders. You're so shocked that you don't even make a move away from him. Just staring widely at Homelander. "I'm your brother. You don't remember me?"

Not giving you any time to reply, HL propels the both of you into the sky.

It's not easy keeping a supe held captive. But being one of the strongest on earth, Homelander managed perfectly fine.

"Don't freak out." Homelander tells you with a gentle smile, like he was warning a child. "Of course I'm gonna freak out!" Your eyes burn with what you know to be one of your shared abilities with HL, laser beams. "You literally just kidnapped me after saying you're my brother!!"

"YOU KNOW WHO I AM" His switch in personalities makes you jolt. He slams his fist into the wall behind your head. "Stop saying you don't know who I am!!"

You were strong, yes, but compared to Homelander? You knew fighting him would only result in your defeat. He drags you through his apartment until you're in his bedroom where you immediately become more frantic and resist his pulling. HL hastily grabs a box from under his bed and begins throwing several pieces of paper at you. "You don't remember any of these??!!" They're children's drawings along with a few sloppily written words. Your parents had similar drawings that you had done when you were little. You didn't remember drawing any of them though.

He's pacing his room now, muttering to himself :"I only left so you'd be safe.""Didn't think you'd forget me.""How could you forget me?""I should've known better than to listen to Madelyn."

You're looking for a way out while he's distracted. You could fly through his window, get the fuck out of there. But it would take HL mere seconds to catch up with you. While you're trying to come up with an escape plan, you can't help but notice the shuddering in his shoulders. You not remembering him truly wounded HL "I-I'm sorry Homelander-"

"John." Slowly he turns to face you once more, his eyes red from a few tears that had trickled down his cheeks. "You used to call me John." His face is utterly broken. You don't know how to handle his constantly changing moods but can't find yourself to leave. Your empathy gets the best of you when you reach down to pat him soothingly on the back. His hand springs toward your face, snatching your jaw in a bone crushing hold.

"I won't make the same mistake again. I'm not letting you go."

[waynes-multiverse]

Love On The Brain

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean and Y/N – hunting partners, bunker roommates & idiots in love. Sam is fed up with their constant “will they/won’t they” bullshit and decides to move things along with his own plan until these two fated lovers’ paths finally cross one night – naked.

Warnings: +18, smut (mentions of masturbation f & m, oral f, fingering, p in v), crack of the adorkable kind, nudity, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Happy V-Day, babes! 💖 The V stands for... Welp, you know me well enough by now to know where I’m going with this 😝 This is a lot of moronic crack mixed with some sweet smut and fluff. We all know how much I love the “idiots in love” trope, and I fully dove into this one. So, grab your glass of favorite liquor & let’s settle in, shall we? ❤️😘 Written for a request by @imagine-all-the-fandoms after making some adjustments. Found Rihanna’s Love on the Brain fitting for this one, so that’s what we went with as a general mood. Hope you enjoy, m’ladies! 🖤

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

Freedom! Thank fucking God…

Y/N exhales a blissful sigh as she saunters to the Dean Cave with a bag of still-hot microwave popcorn in her arms. The Winchester brothers have decided on a little overnight road trip to the next, bigger town over to see a movie – and for some brotherly bonding or whatever – which means Y/N can finally enjoy some goddamn alone time in the bunker. Not that she doesn’t love Sam and Dean to bits and pieces, especially the latter one. They are like family to her, the only one she’s ever truly known, but even family can grow exhausting sometimes.

Living with two boys can grow exhausting, honestly, so Y/N has decided to spend her alone time doing a bunch of girly shit she can’t do with Tweedledee and Tweedledum around – at least not without enduring some judgmental looks.

So, first on the agenda? Watching a bunch of chick flicks, aka any movie the oldest Winchester wouldn’t approve of. Mean Girls, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, You’ve Got Mail, and so on – you get the gist.

The second order of business is a long-ass bathroom time for a little much-needed self-care, including a hot and relaxing bath with an abundance of pink bubbles and soap that smells like the goddamn Queen’s flower garden. Then she’s going to shave and wax… everything. Admittedly, things got a little hairy in recent weeks. There wasn’t a lot of time between hunts and sharing close quarters with two men in motel rooms, and every time she did attempt a proper shave, Dean would yell outside the bathroom door, needing to pee or God knows what else, so she dropped the razor again. Honestly, it’s not like she’s being followed around by an array of suitors these days. It’s been months since anyone has seen her private parts or even her bare legs, including her. On the upside, at least her vibrator doesn’t mind the extra locks.

Oh God, she’s fucking sad, isn’t she? Yeah… It’s a sad affair all around, really.

Regardless, the mention of some self-love reminds her of her third to-do item on her list: sex. Well, technically masturbating to Ryan Gosling’s pictures. Maybe even Andrew Garfield, Sebastian Stan, that hot dude Jackson from Grey’s Anatomy… Leo in his prime. Brad Pitt – young and old. Seth Rogen… Whoa! Don’t judge, okay? It’s not all about looks. She loves when a guy can make her laugh, and his laugh is so sweet, deep, and… bear-y, alright?

Yeah, fine, she knows she needs to get fucked properly by a real dick instead of a fictional one – rather sooner than later before she goes for… the dick that’s been living right under the same roof, only three doors down from her own bedroom.

Shit.

Yep, Dean fucking Winchester – God of all Gods, monster hunter extraordinaire, hero of all innocent damsels, and idiotic clown of all clowns, shamelessly stole her heart since… well, pretty much the minute they met and she first laid eyes on him. It felt like being blinded by the sun, the golden freckles on his cheeks and nose resembling the twinkling, starry constellations in the night sky. In an instant, she was an unsuspecting, innocent moth to a blazing flame. How could she possibly resist that irresistible, boyish charm? There’s no vaccine against that green-eyed virus. She swears she’s seen women faint and gasp before him, and she certainly isn’t immune, either. No one truly is, not even other men, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately, Dean will never ever look at her in that way and see more than a friend in her. The thought alone is so ridiculous it makes her snort before she starts to uncontrollably sob and whine. But God, does she wish more than anything he could be hers and she could be his.

Admittedly, she feels a little lonely, especially with the ominous Valentine’s Day looming around the corner, or as Dean likes to call it – unattached drifter Christmas.

Dear fucking God, why did she have to fall in love with that dork? Why can’t it be some nice, normal guy without an abundance of commitment issues?

On the other hand, it’s a good thing the oldest Winchester isn’t here tonight, even though he’d probably love the fourth part of her evening: naturism.

Yup, walking around naked while you’re alone is the best fucking thing in the world and so goddamn freeing. Tits out. Let the ladies breathe a little, you know? Having the girls constantly locked up in bra prison is no way to go through life. And Y/N knows for sure Dean would not only agree with that sentiment but also highly support it. After all, he was the one that suggested Naked Tuesdays when she first moved in. Sam then established a rule that the oldest Winchester wasn’t allowed to “sexually harass” her. It was completely unnecessary but sweet nonetheless. Y/N knows Dean’s just a teasing goofball 99% of the time and would never seriously harm her or make her feel uncomfortable. In fact, she loves that the brothers are always looking out for her and have her best interest in mind.

So, as soon as she hears the big metal door of the bunker slam shut, Y/N excitedly begins her girl’s night alone, trying not to think too much about the green-eyed hunter and focusing on Gosling on the silver screen instead.

“So, this movie… is it like Zombieland?” Dean inquires with a wide grin, wiggling his eyebrows as he grabs a couple of beers and snacks from the fridge for their road trip to Wichita.

Sam’s brow furrows in confusion. “What? Dean, no… It’s not an action movie or a comedy. It’s an environmental documentary about how soil can counteract the climate crisis,” the younger Winchester explains, chuckling in amusement.

Dean’s face drops, his features morphing from excitement to shock as his eyes blink in rapid succession. “What?! But you said Woody Harrelson is in it! You lied to me!”

“Nooo,” Sam laughs, shaking his head, and corrects, “I said Woody Harrelson narrates it. It’s a good documentary. Trust me.”

“Fuck no! I don’t wanna watch a movie about dirt,” the older brother whines, his plump lips shaping into a pout. “Can’t we go see something with action and blood and guns? You know, something fun?”

“Dean, our whole life is action, blood, and guns. Would do you some good to care about the Earth and climate every once in a while,” Sam lectures him.

“Screw that! We’ve already saved the planet multiple times. All that Al Gore shit ain’t my problem,” Dean huffs, pops open a beer and takes a sip. “‘Sides, I don’t trust these environmental clowns. I know the first thing they’d wanna do is get rid of Baby, and then I swear I’m gonna start shootin’. I can’t stand for that insanity.”

“Fine,” Sam frowns and lets out a resigned sigh. “Then I guess you’ll have to stay here because I wanna watch that movie.”

“Fine by me,” Dean agrees with another sip of beer.

“Good. Since you’re not coming, I might even check out the Mid-America Fine Arts Museum,” Sam shares, the excitement gleaming in his hazel orbs.

“Yeah, nerd yourself out, little brother,” Dean snorts. “Did you know Wichita has a Pizza Hut Museum?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, you tell me that every time we go to Wichita, Dean,” Sam reminds him and suppresses the laugh. “Well, uh, have fun alone with Y/N then,” he smirks slyly, and Dean’s short-lived relief disappears as realization dawns, his brow knitting. “Who knows? Might even be a good opportunity for you to tell her you’re madly in love with her.”

“Wha-, uh, pffft, no?” Dean brushes his little brother’s lunatic accusations off the kitchen counter and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, clearing the fluster in his throat. “Dude, are you drunk? I’m so not in love with her, alright? Don’t be ridiculous, okay? Do I find her incredibly hot, smart, sweet, brave, kind, adorable, and funny? Sure… That’s why she’s our friend, right? But that doesn’t mean I like… love “love” her, okay? At least not like that.” He forms sarcastic air quotes around the cursed word and grimly swallows his uncomfortableness and the lies down with a big gulp of beer. “And for crying out loud, keep your voice down when you say shit like that. I don’t want her to hear us,” he hisses, his green orbs nervously eyeing the kitchen door. “It’s echo-y in here, you know?”

“Sure, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam casually shrugs his shoulders, clearly not buying a single one of the green-eyed hunter’s words, and it only annoys the older Winchester more.

“Don’t-… Nuh-uh, don’t gimme that fake ‘whatever you say’ bullshit shtick. There’s really nothing going on, alright?” Dean assures anew, growing more irritated by the minute.

Sam twitches his shoulders once more and then cockily folds his arms over his chest, a teasing smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, so you won’t mind if I set her up with Matt, right? It’s just-… She seems a little lonely lately.”

“Lonely?” Dean arches an eyebrow in apprehension and scoffs, “She’s fine, Sam. She’s got us.”

Sam frowns for what feels like the hundredth time during this conversation. “Dean, you honestly don’t think that’s enough for her.”

“Why not?” The older Winchester shrugs, refusing to see clearly. “It’s enough for me. Our life is awesome. You don’t see me complaining.”

“Yes, you’re obviously the golden standard for healthy relationships,” Sam mutters sarcastically and rolls his eyes back.

Dean purses and smacks his plump lips, scratching the bit of scruff on his throat. “Well, uh… shut up, okay? And don’t set her up with Matt. The guy’s a douche.”

“Alright, what about Josh? You like Josh,” Sam suggests next.

“Yeah, as a hunting partner, he’s alright, not as a boy toy for our friend, Sam,” Dean grits bitterly and rolls his eyes, chugging the rest of his beer. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re not her pimp. Just leave her alone, alright?”  

“Look, if you don’t wanna date her – fine. That’s on you. Just don’t stand in the way of her happiness because you can’t stop self-sabotaging yourself, man,” Sam argues with a judgmentally raised brow.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dean grumbles, the offense clearly written in every deep wrinkle on his face.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam deadpans and grabs his laptop bag, making his way out of the kitchen.

“Stop saying that!”

“Look, I’d love to discuss all your weird issues in detail with you, but I still have to pick up Eileen on my way to Wichita,” Sam notes nonchalantly as Dean trails behind him through the bunker’s corridors. “I’ve watched you two beat around the bush for years. It’s getting annoying. You guys are worse than Ross and Rachel.”

“Wait, Eileen? Did you plan all of this on purpose? Were you trying to trick me?” Dean’s voice rises with his exasperation. He hates when Sam puts his nose where it doesn’t belong, mainly in his business. It’s the typical little brother shit he had to deal with all his life. Siblings, man…

“Me? No, I would never,” his younger brother replies with feigned innocence, marching up the metal stairs to the exit, but Dean can hear the goddamn deceit in his words.

“I don’t believe you,” Dean grits with a sternly creased brow, narrowing his juniper eyes at his younger brother as he halts at the bottom of the steps.

“Okay, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam grins complacently and opens the door. “Just don’t be an idiot. Make the first move, alright? That’s all you need to do. Trust me. It’s gonna be fine. She likes you, too.”

With that, the youngest Winchester closes the door behind him, leaving Dean to ruminate in his convoluted misery.

The hunter then stomps through the hallways of the bunker, furiously mumbling to himself as he passes the Dean Cave on his way to his room. Hearing sounds coming from inside, he stops by the cracked door for a moment and realizes Y/N is watching a movie in there. He considers joining her before recognizing Gosling’s voice, a deep sigh leaving his lips. Of course, she’s watching chick flicks again, so he decides against his plan, knowing some silly rom-com could potentially be a slippery slope and lead to some dangerous innuendos.

He downright refuses to play into his little brother’s evil scheme. Sam’s not goddamn Lindsay Lohan, and this isn’t the fucking Parent Trap. It’s better and safer if Dean stays far away from Y/N for the entirety of Sam’s absence, so the hunter quietly retreats to his room.

Dean decided to watch a bunch of his favorite horror movies until late into the night, ignoring the boiling feelings under the surface. He then closes his laptop with a heavy sigh, ready to call it a night after a nice, warm shower.

With headphones on and some classic rock music drowning out his hammering thoughts, he takes off his clothes and wraps a towel around himself. During an earlier snack run to the kitchen, he noticed the Dean Cave had already been deserted, the room quiet and dark. Y/N luckily has withdrawn to her own room again, so he knows he won’t accidentally run into her. She still hasn’t left his mind, his head in a constant swirl since his stupid conversation with Sam.

So, naturally, Dean comes to the conclusion that only some self-completion down the shower drain might help to clear his thoughts and flush the huntress out of his mind for good. He’s not proud of it, but it’s certainly not the first time since he’s known her that he thinks about her while jerking off. Usually, it only happens when he has to spend too many nights in a row with her in a small motel room without a way to escape, but this time, though, he fully blames Sam and his big mouth for it.

Wandering down the hall to the bathroom, his head bobs to the rhythm of the music flowing through his ears, his green eyes fixed on his phone screen as he scrolls through his playlist. Mindlessly opening the door, he suddenly freezes as another body bumps straight into him.

It all happens pretty fast from there. There’s a loud, high-pitched shriek that filters through the music, his hand drops his phone, and his headphones fall down with it, severing the connection and leaving him in silence as his palms catch a taut-skinned body in his arms while the towel around his waist glides to the tiled floor. And then, he just stares into two big and shocked pupils, which are probably as wide as his own.

Fuck…

For a second, Dean feels incredibly exposed before noticing the warm skin that’s pressed flush against his own body. Yep, he doesn’t dare to check, but he’s certain Y/N’s completely naked, too.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…,” Y/N’s panicked voice chimes in his ears as both of them awkwardly avert their gazes in different directions to the ceiling and avoid eye contact at all costs while still clinging tightly onto each other, aware that if one of them moves, it’s game over and they’d see each other in their full glory. Basically, they’re each other’s damn shields – as uncomfortable as that may be. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“I, uh…” That’s when Dean realizes Y/N probably didn’t even know he stayed behind and let Sam go to Wichita alone. “Sam wanted to watch a documentary.”

“I know!” Y/N yells in annoyance and grits, “You were supposed to go with him! Granted, I was surprised you agreed to it in the first place, but still, you’re not supposed to be home!”

“He didn’t tell me it was a documentary about dirt, alright? Otherwise, it would’ve been a straight-up ‘no’ from the start,” Dean explains and tries not to get hard as he feels Y/N’s tits press against his chest. Judging by the precise feeling that’s poking him, she must be somewhat cold.

“Yes, he did! I was right there when you agreed,” Y/N argues. “He talked about it for over an hour.”

“Oh,” Dean stumps and clears his throat rather awkwardly. Who could blame him for not listening, huh?

“You never listen to people! It’s so goddamn annoying!”

“Y/N, you need to stop talking, sweetheart,” Dean begs her, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrates on anything else for dear life.

Baseball, Sam drinking green smoothies, a scratch on Baby’s new coat of paint… He attempts to distract his mind from the unavoidable, but it’s no use. The skin-on-skin contact is his final nail in the coffin.

“Oh, I’m sure you would love that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N continues in a furious huff, “It’s not always about you–”

“Y/N, please… All that angry shaking isn’t helping, sweetheart.”

The huntress cocks an eyebrow high, almost reaching the messy bun on top of her head. “Helping with what?”

“Uhm…”

And that’s when he can’t control it any longer. There’s a distinctive twitch against her thigh, and he’s sure she’s felt it, too. Shit, shit, shit…

“Oooooh.” Y/N awkwardly presses her lips into a thin line, her fingertips tapping a nervous melody on his skin. Her single utterance makes his heart stop. It’s game over. She’s going to call him a gross perv, move out of the bunker, and then never speak to him again. “It’s-, uhm, it’s okay,” she says surprisingly, her head bobbing with a thick swallow as she reassuringly squeezes his biceps where her palms rest.

“Y/N, I’m-, uh… oh God… I’m so, so sorry,” he stammers, deciding to keep his eyes shut to escape some of the awkwardness.

“I-, no, it’s not-… This is a weird situation we’re in… It’s fine. Completely normal, right? Like, uhm, like a reflex?”

“Uh, yeah, guess so,” Dean gulps, his eyelids slowly fluttering open and gaze drifting back to the ceiling. It’s not a goddamn reflex, though. It’s all her. It’s the effect she has on him.

“We should, uh, probably, uhm, detangle…”

“Uh-huh, yup, nope, agree,” he says and clears his throat once more, hoping the fluster will leave his body soon. “You, uh, wanna bend down, and we both can grab our towels?”

Fuck, it’ll probably be awkward between them for months now. They’ll avoid each other during breakfast, lunch, dinner… They’ll stop watching movies together, Sam will have to be their buffer and hate it, and they probably won’t look directly into each other’s eyes till Christmas – and it’s only fucking February.

“Oh, uhm… I actually, technically didn’t, uh, come with a towel?”

His eyebrow twitches upward, head slightly tilting to the side as he thinks about her words. “Oh, uh… Wait… Were you, uhm, walking around like… naked through the bunker?”

Well, there’s an image Dean’s never gonna get out of his head. Now, he’ll forever wonder if she takes off her clothes as soon as he walks out the door.

“Look, I thought I was alone, okay?! Again – you’re not actually supposed to be here! Don’t judge me!” Y/N defends, the panic returning to her voice, and then adds something in an almost inaudible mumble, “Just wanted to let the girls breathe a little. Sue me…”

“What?” His head tilts some more, the fine creases on his brow deepening.

“Nothing… never mind,” she quickly splutters, her cheeks flushing bright red as she visibly swallows.

Dean snorts. He’s in love with a dork, isn’t he? God, she’s adorable.

And then, it fucking happens again. Dammit…

“Was that…”

“Again – I’m so, so sorry,” he apologizes once more, although he’s sure he can’t do it often enough. His dick is an escaped zoo animal and clearly on the prowl tonight.

“No, uh… So how do you wanna do this? We could, uhm, maybe turn 180 and then close our eyes and let go… I could, uhm, run really fast down the hall, and you could just quickly back into the bathro–”

Y/N doesn’t get to finish laying out her plan. Dean’s lips on hers stop any further words from spilling out of her mouth. The featherlight kiss doesn’t last longer than a painfully anxious second, his mind racing a mile a minute, his brain positively fried.

What the hell is he fucking doing? There’s only one rule in the bunker: don’t sexually harass Y/N. Dean’s pretty damn sure he’s breaking that rule right now and crossing too many goddamn lines. How’s he supposed to ever recover from this?

“What, uh…” Y/N’s speechless, every muscle frozen stiff in his embrace. Her eyebrows draw up and reach her hairline, eyes blown wide in shock. “Or that… you could do that…”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Dean groans in defeat and shame, hoping the Earth opens up and takes him straight to the burning fires of Hell. See? There aren’t enough apologies in this world to make up for his stupidity. “You know, this is all Sam’s fault… He just got into my head… I mean, this is obviously the wrong first move… I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just have a, you know, teeny-tiny crush on you, but still, this is obviously inappropriate.”

“You-, uhm, you have a crush on me?”

Dean swallows the hard lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah… Yeah, I do,” he admits bravely. “But don’t worry about it, okay? It’s just a temporary thing, alright?”

Y/N nods slightly in understanding. “For how long have you felt this way?”

“Well, uhm, like I said – not that long… Just a very short period of time… Like, since November 29th… 2012,” he gulps and shrugs sheepishly, watching her brow furrow in confusion.

“But… that’s the day we met,” Y/N points out.

Dean chuckles uncomfortably and rebuffs her concerns. “Is it? No…,” he rasps. “Well, uhm, anyways, that doesn’t change anything. Don’t worry, alright? No need to make this weird. I’m sure if we give it a couple more years, I’ll be completely over you.”

Y/N’s head bobs again, her lips pursing. “Okay, uhm… But what if you, uh, you know, maybe get over me in the literal sense… and I could get under you?”

The gears in his head start turning as he musingly squints his pine green eyes at her and studies her features. She seems nervous. There’s a bite of her lower lip and a light swallow in her throat, her pupils flickering insecurely. “Uhm, well… is that something you would like? I mean, to get-, uh, would you wanna get under me?”

“Uhm… yes? Yeah?” She looks up at him and meets his gaze, their eyes fully connecting for the first time since they have catapulted themselves into this mortifying situation.

“Is that a question?” Dean checks and chuckles lightly. “Because you kinda need to be sure about this, y’know?”

Another swallow and Y/N nods, determination gleaming in her eyes. He feels her weight shift forward, her feet rising on tip-toes as her palms move from his upper arms to the back of his neck. Her soft, pillowy lips catch his, a tender touch as their mouths carefully mold together. She sucks on his upper lip, nibbles on the bottom one before he feels the tip of her tongue lick between. He opens his mouth wider, lets her slip inside.

Dean’s hands then begin to travel, his confidence growing as Y/N’s fingers tug slightly on the short strands of hair in the nape of his neck, trying to draw him closer. One large hand cups her neck, the other one smoothing down her spine and pressing into the small of her back. He pushes her closer, deepens the kiss, and both of them moan needily while their tongues dance with each other. His grip on her becomes stronger, their bodies melting into one. Y/N gasps into his mouth, her hips pushing against his, skin on skin, as her bare pussy brushes his bulging dick.

“Shit…,” Dean mutters breathlessly against her lips, and Y/N breaks the kiss and meets his eyes with a hint of a smile.

Her lips are red and glistening, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. He cups her blushed cheek, thumb ghosting over the kiss-swollen flesh of her bottom lip as he mirrors her soft smile.

“You okay?” Y/N checks, giggling slightly.

Dean chuckles, palm still caressing her cheek. “Yeah, uh, just realized we’re incredibly naked.”

She snorts and nods, “Yeah, guess that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, huh?”

“Definitely not,” Dean agrees and laughs a little, his cheeks blushing with bashfulness. “But, look, we don’t have to do anything tonight, alright? We can take it slow.”

Y/N thoughtfully chews on her lip, her dimples showing a smile before she shakes her head. “No, I think we’ve been taking things slow for long enough.”

Dean’s face breaks into a grin before he pulls her back to his lips for a searing kiss. Y/N’s hands lock around his neck, allowing him to lift her up, and her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His hand weaves into her hair, still damp in the back of her neck from her bath, as the scent of her delicious body wash and lotion seep into his nostrils with each intake of air.

“You smell nice,” he notes, his mouth trailing along her jawline and down her throat, leaving wet kisses in his wake as he sucks her pulse point black and blue. “Like a flower garden…”

Y/N giggles, the cute sound in his ears causing his heart to flutter. She clasps his jaw and draws his attention back to her face, nuzzling her nose against his, whispering, “Bedroom. Need you inside me…”

“Jesus, Y/N… Going in for the kill, huh? You can’t say stuff like that to a man in a compromising position,” he jokes, making her laugh more. “Okay, hold on, sweetheart. You ready?”

She confirms it with a nod, and Dean adjusts his grip on her body, grabbing her a little tighter before bolting down the bunker hallway like a little kid on Christmas morning. The huntress squeals and giggles in his arms as he kicks the door open to his bedroom, gently laying her down on the mattress. She lets herself fall back and stretches out on the bed, her shoulder blades indenting the memory foam, and he hopes the thing does as advertised and fucking remembers her forever.

“You’re fast,” Y/N teases him as he quickly makes his way on top of her.

Dean chuckles, placing soft kisses on her lips in between his laughs. “Yeah, well, I’d run a mile just to get a taste of you, sweetheart. But don’t worry – not all of it will be this fast, alright?”

“Oh, I didn’t think it would be,” she giggles and licks her lips. “Can you just do me a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart,” Dean assures her and lovingly brushes her hair behind her ears.

“Just judging by, uhm, size-,” she interrupts her sentence for a giggle, and he joins in. She’s so fucking cute. “Can you go slow?”

“Oh, trust me. I would’ve taken my time either way, but tell you what – I’ll even do you one better,” he says. His fingers then slide up her arm, along her collarbone and down to one breast. She shivers underneath him, her skin breaking into delicate goosebumps, soon soothed by his warm lips. His thumb brushes her bud, plays with it until it hardens and then alleviates the sensation with his hot breath and wet tongue.

“Fuuuuck,” Y/N sighs blissfully, her toes curling as a smile shapes on her lips, fully relaxing under his care. “Feels so good, De.”

His chuckle vibrates against her ribcage, his mouth traveling down her upper body, his kisses not missing an inch of smooth skin. Every rib, every beauty mark, every freckle gets the attention they deserve, even teasingly dipping his tongue into her navel. The last tender kiss is placed on her mound as he moves between her legs and spreads her thighs a little wider.

A smirk forms on his face as he leers at her pussy, bright pink and already glistening with her arousal. He catches her watchful gaze, sees a bit of insecurity shimmering in it as she nibbles her fingernails and bottom lip almost bloody, so he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows and sends her a wink, causing her to giggle and roll her eyes at his antics before she lets herself fall back into the mattress with a calming, deep breath.

Licking his thumb pad, he presses it against her sensitive nub, her thighs jolting for a second at the initial touch as a hiss escapes her throat, followed shortly by a strangled whimper. Y/N’s hands fist the bedsheet a little tighter, her knuckles turning white, every muscle wired to the nth degree. Her chest heaves frantically as her breathing grows more erratic with each little circle of his digit. His index finger then stretches and reaches her dripping entrance, rubbing at the tight ring before he easily pushes inside and curls it, poking the spongey spot.

“Fuck, Dean…,” she manages to croak out, biting down on her tongue.

Dean only chuckles, a giddy feeling spreading in his stomach and loving how responsive she is to his touches. There’s a loud whimper when he kisses her pussy lips, tongue dipping between and giving her clit a kitten lick, distracting her enough to shove his middle finger inside her cunt as well, scissoring them once he’s knuckles-deep.

“Oh God… shit,” she groans and whines above him.

He laughs lightly and curiously observes the torment on her face. “Wanna cum, huh?”

“Dean, I swear… I-… please,” she begs, her initial threat morphing into a soft plea for mercy.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he assures her amusedly and swiftly presses his mouth back on her pussy, sucking her sensitive bundle of nerves between his plump lips and thrusting his digits harder and faster inside her. It only takes three, four pushes and one skilled suck before she convulses, trembles, and soaks his face and fingers in her juices. He groans at the sweet taste of her on his tongue, his cock twitches gleefully between his bow legs, only too eager to slide in next.

“Oh God! Fuck… shit… D-Dean!”

The green-eyed hunter grins broadly up at her, his face almost split in half as he bathes in her blissed-out expression and the rosy cheeks that accompany it.

“Wow,” she breathes and shakily catches his swollen and wet lips as he comes back up to her eye level, propping his arms up on the sides of her head.

“I think you’re ready for the big gun now,” he laughs and places a loving kiss on the tip of her nose and another one on her forehead.

“Uh-huh, I’m not so sure after this,” she giggles, still catching her breath. She cups his jaw, kisses him deeply, and licks her arousal from his pillowy lips. “You’re… amazing.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” he winks, the softness of his smile contrasting his cockiness. “Do we, uhm, need–”

Y/N shakes her head, anticipating his question. “No, uh, I’m on the pill. I just need you.”

With a smile, he nods and ducks his head, entangling her in a blazing kiss as he devours her lips. His hand pushes between their heated bodies, fisting his achingly hard cock before he threads his dickhead through her folds, coats it with her slick before it catches at her entrance. His thick and leaking tip pushes inside, slowly entering her drenched cunt inch by inch till he’s buried deep and touches her cervix, stretching her tight walls around his impressive girth and hearing her little gasps of sheer pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps at the feeling of her pussy enveloping his cock and gently brushes her hair out of her face, kissing her deeply. “Taking me so well… Such a good girl f’me.”

“God, you feel like heaven,” she whimpers and wraps her arms around his neck.

As he languidly pulls out to the tip, he kisses down her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. His hand wraps around one of hers, pinning it above her head to the mattress, fingers tightly interlocking before he thrusts back into her heat. His hips then work up a rhythm, a slow and soft song, as he fucks her deep and slams home harder at just the right spot.  

Her second orgasm builds slowly yet deeply, aiming to shatter her from within as she hears the ticking of a bomb in every muscle of her body, counting down the seconds before a massive explosion. She moans loudly as the earth-shattering climax hits her at full force, booming and wild as she curses his name over and over.

His fingers grip hers tighter, his thrusts growing sloppy as he lazily fucks her, her pulsating walls clenching around his firm cock. His hips begin to stutter, broad shoulders quaking as he spills deep inside her and stills. He grunts, her name falling from his lips, loud, strained, and primal when he cums, painting her walls with his milky seed.

“Wow,” Dean repeats her earlier sentiment, her giggle causing his heart to soar higher than the moon in the sky. “You okay?”

A wide smile spreads across her face, a tired nod moving her head. “Yeah, more than okay,” she assures him and seeks out his lips.

Dean places one last kiss on her hairline before removing his limp and drenched dick from her center, rolling to his side and pulling her onto his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around her frame. “Hey, Y/N?”

She wearily lifts her heavy head to meet his green eyes. “Hm?”

“Were you, uhm, lonely?” Dean asks, his fingertips drawing tender patterns on her back.

“I guess… a little, yeah,” she admits. “Why?”

He kisses her forehead and pulls her closer. “Nothing. Just… I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? You wanna move into my room?”

Y/N’s beam is blinding, her cheeks blushing brightly pink. “Yeah, I’d love that,” she replies and snuggles back into his chest.

Dean then notices her eyes falling shut, losing the battle against sleep as her breathing calms in his embrace, his own mind following her into dreamland soon after.

In the morning, Y/N and Dean are still soundly asleep, entangled in sheets and limbs, when there are a few abrupt knocks on the door before it pops open to its full extent, the youngest Winchester’s voice drowning in from the hall.

“Hey, Dean? I’m back! Look, I figured we could talk. I’m sorry about yesterd–… ay… Whoa!”

“Wha-!” Y/N jolts up from the bed at the unexpected intrusion, her elbow hitting Dean straight in the face as he rises behind her. The force of the blow knocks him out of bed, the hunter tumbling to the cold ground.

Y/N clasps her palm over her mouth, staring at Sam’s shocked expression, their eyes both wide before she glances over her shoulder to her lover on the ground.

“Ow! Jesus…”

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Sam,” the huntress smiles awkwardly at the younger Winchester, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders as she hides her naked body underneath the sheets. “Good morning. How-, uh, how was the documentary?”

“Uhm, good?” Sam doesn’t look any less freaked out by what his hazel eyes are witnessing, though.

Dean groans behind her, rubbing a palm over his aching face before sending his little brother a lazy grin. “Hiya, Sammy.”

Sam then lets out a long sigh through his nose and mutters, “About damn time…”

“Yeah, about that, little brother… Might call Eileen and book yourself a room for at least a week somewhere,” Dean tells him, smirking.

Sam’s brow furrows, “What? Why?”

“Oh, because I’m gonna rail Y/N in every room we have,” Dean explains casually, watching Sam’s eyes widen.

“Oh?” Y/N sends her boyfriend an intrigued look, which he responds to with a sly wiggle of his eyebrows and a wink. “Even the dungeon? Are you, like, gonna tie me up and stuff?”

Dean’s eyes look at her lovingly, causing her cheeks to flush with heat. “Where have you been all my life, sweetheart?”

“Oh God, what have I done…,” Sam groans with a thick swallow.

PHEW! And we’re done with one shot week, babes! 😮‍💨 I honestly hadn’t planned this but found some inspiration over the weekend and finished some WIPs, and since they were all about different kinds of love, I figured they were perfect for Valentine’s Day 💖

Hope you enjoyed these various journeys, and if you did, please consider telling me here and leaving me with some kind words 🥰 Now excuse me while I go work on a few Soldier Boy one shots. I’ve missed my toxic Ben-Ben. Read you soon, babes! 😝🖤

Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @avanatural​

Dean Tags: @parinarain​ @hobby27​ @fromcaintodean​

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Author's note • After my recent rant, Ive decided to feed the girlies who want fics that align with canon Aemond. Sooooo Im coming home for my girls with an fire & blood timeline retelling & not just more boring ass Mary Sue × Aemond smut. So we are starting from the beginning. The vibe is, "I could make him significant worse".

Word Count ~ 1.4k

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi● vii ●viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

ii ~ 'Age of Hero's'

123 AC

It was not until later that night the young princess saw her uncle again. It took little effort to convince the Kings guard that she was not here to continue to jeer at the prince, but rather to give a sincere apology. At least, that is what she had told herself. It had not occurred to her, why or how men oft bended to her will. In truth, Visenya had little thoughts on such things, for all she knew, she asked and received accordingly – and if she did not receive, she would promptly sway until her desires were met.

It was this very naivety, this innate trust that the world would simply open its loving arms for her whenever she pleased, that worried her mother and father so dearly. Both knowing the ways of men, the violence and sickness that dwelled in her heads, most especially about a Princess of Valyrian blood. Seen less so for her heart and more for her blood born proximity to the God’s themselves. To power of fire made flesh, and of course. The beauty which came with Valyrian blood.

Visenya entered Aemond’s room quietly, and when she came before him, came before his body splayed out upon his bed she swiftly averted her gaze. The princess cleared her throat, a small noise of a disturbance left his mouth as he jumped, swiftly propping himself upwards.

“What are you doing in here? You ought-” His voice laced with outraged as The Princess interrupted.

“Temper yourself. I’ve not come to goad you. I just, I came to apologise.” A small laugh left her, she put her hand up.

“I do not give a shit.” Aemond snapped.

Visenya tilted her head, scanning him, “Fine. But I shall do so anyway.”

“Why?” Asked Aemond, the air teaming with uncertainty as he watched his sly niece walk slowly, stalking through his room like a cat.

“Because it is right, it is what is owed, and I’ve no intention being in your debt.” Visenya sighed, her voice almost aloof, smug. Her eyes look in the space, the perfectly kept books and scrolls upon his desk. The princess reached the dark mahogany desk that was seemly gleamed in the firelight. It seemed the prince had little taste nor need for decor, he seemed to only own objects for utilitarian purposes, he was so… conservative, Visenya thought. In fact, the only unkept thing was an open book, her pale fingers grazed the pages. Clearly, he had taken it from her Grandsire’s personal Library. She looked at the top, small writing detailing the topic ‘Age of Heros: Symeon Star-Eyes’. She had never heard of such a thing, her thoughts interrupted as another pale hand snatched the book away.

The prince’s eyes met hers with a venomous glare as placed the small book back upon his desk, “I find it difficult to believe you care about what is right.”

Visenya scoffed in response as she paced to the other side of the desk, her fingers as cunning as she as they found his book once more, “True. Perhaps I don’t, however it hardly matters. For even if I am saying it to benefit myself, my meaning is sincere.”

Frustration and rage tore through Prince Aemond as he then turned and stepped forward, who was she to dare apologise? After all this time, all these years of enduring her fucking bastard brothers torment? No, no Aemond would not tolerate it, he was not one to embrace pity. “I’ve no reason to accept your pathetic apology and I have no use for the rag of pity you continue to throw at me!” He snapped.

Visenya found herself taken aback by the fire in his eyes, she felt her own frustration boil as she bit back with equal fervour, “Yes, well perhaps you ought to! Since it seems I am the only one who is willing to throw it to you, and actually, unlike what you may think. I have little interest in hating you.”

“Do not lie.” Aemond stepped forward, his voice low.

“It is no lie. I do not hate you, we most certainly do not get along. But, I have little reason to hate you.” She shrugged, Visenya relaxed once more.

Though Prince Aemond could not tolerate it any longer, he would not take another drop of her insolence… her teasing, her lies! He snapped again, “You… you and your brothers torment me for your own amusement.”

“As does Aegon.” The Princess sneered, once again he had gotten himself into a state, she thought.

“I do not give a shit about Aegon! He is a fool and already a drunkard, and… and, well he is also my brother.” The prince wanted to push her, slap that smarmy sneer from her face. He stumbled upon his words, feeling more flustered, more overcome with the memories of all of his sister’s bastard’s torment. Their stupid, arrogant faces.

Visenya, ever cool, raised her brow, “So?”

“So, it is different.” He bit back.

Visenya stepped forward, folding her arms as she analysed him, by the Gods was he bothered. Still, she retorted back, “I dare say Aegon torments you for his own amusement far more than I. In fact, I do not torment you at all. They are mere jests!”

“Mocking me for not claiming a dragon is not a simple jest!” He had had it, the prince suddenly found himself unable to control it anymore, his hands came out before him, connecting with his niece’s chest as he pushed her back.

Visenya stumbled only slightly, she looked down and then swiped a stray hair from her face. Silence fell between them before a moment, a piercing silence. The soft breaths of Aemond to be heard as he tried to temper himself. A slight guilt filled him, but not for what he had done to the Princess, rather what may happen to him if his father found out. Or worst of all… if her father found out. The silence dragged, before shattered with the soft cackles of Visenya. Her face beaming.

“Gods…” She laughed, tilting her head back. Perhaps he was right, perhaps she did tease him for her own amusement. Tis his fault really, Aemond ought to learn how not to be so easily pestered, he ought to enjoy her attention on him. Only the Gods knows how many other boys try and fail to garner her interest. Yet it was him, who truly captured Visenya. A cruel smile rose to her face.

“Just get out!” Aemond snapped again, feeling a slight measure of weakness under her gaze. He reached forward, grabbing her wrist harshly as he forced her to the door,  

As he did so, Visenya cackled, enjoying this far too much, she laughed as she spoke, “Very well, I apologize for my lapses, and I will not speak on your lack of a dragon again, Uncle.” The door swung open and Visenya nearly gasped as she felt the firm grip of the Kings Guard outside his chambers grip her shoulder.

“Come, princess. The hour grows late, the both of you ought be in your bedchambers for the night.” The King’s Guard voice rang firm as he began to escort Visenya away, her eyes lingered upon Aemond once more, as she giggled.

The cheeky cackling of his niece could be heard through the prince’s heavy doors, Aemond wore a bitter expression. He was utterly infuriated, utterly exhausted… and utterly ashamed in his own inability to not give in to her teasing. He scanned his room, the firelight casting a soft orange glow, the air was warm, and it’s smell a comforting indication of embers. Aemond sat upon his bed once more, eyes sharp and pained, a part of him wished to crawl into the arms of his mother but he did not send for her. No, he would face this alone, he would not behave as the weak little bellyacher they all thought him to be. He would be strong, infallible; he would be a man.

Upon this thought, Prince Aemond rose up from his bed, approaching his desk once more as he longed to find comfort in the tales of great knights and ruthless warriors; to read of Symeon Star Eyes. Yet, as the young prince’s eyes met the mahogany surface, he felt his gut coil with rage once more.

His book had been swiped.

○iii○