#3-Piece Hoodie Set

[loveluri]

We caught you looking at our Shorts Crop Top and Hoodie 3 Piece Set. Click this way to shop your new favorite. Best dressed- secured.

[theforgetter]

anyway the con last weekend was fun! i got merch of TWO!!!!!(!!!) special interests AND my favorite movey AND my favorite tv show AND my favorite manga. and a keychain of a yuri ship. life is so fucking good

[gogogodzilla]

Leave the Light On

mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, continuation of this post, panty sniffing, semi-public masturbation, sex tape, consensual somnophilia part 1 ✩ part 3 ✩ main masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩

As soon as he awoke, he knew something had happened. His thighs and groin were covered in the sticky remnants of cum and his briefs were skewed. You’d made good on your promise, and excitement hummed under his skin at the thought. 

He was more confident that you’d taken him up on the offer when he looked in the mirror and saw the hickies coating his neck and chest. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as he took in the marks. 

He slid on the jeans you had set neatly on the edge of his bed and opted for a hoodie that would cover most of the marks you’d left. He definitely didn’t need Abby asking how he got them. 

His ears perked up at the sound of you coming in through the front door accompanied by hurried footsteps. Abby was talking excitedly about something and you commented here or there. 

He’d entered the kitchen, and your eyes lit up at his appearance. You gave him a devilish grin as you sat at the kitchen table, listening to Abby as she talked. 

The rest of the evening was spent with lingering glances and fleeting touches. He wanted to ruin you as soon as the two of you were alone, but you kept him at arm's length. You led him into the kitchen and retrieved something off the counter.

You handed him a paper bag, “I made you lunch. Dinner, maybe?” He nodded and went to open the bag to inspect its contents. You grabbed his wrist. “Just wait until you get to work, okay?” 

“You’re asking me to be very patient tonight,” he pointed out, sliding a hand around your waist. 

You pecked his lips and pulled him closer, “It’s worth it. Promise.” 

Once it was time for him to leave, you held the door for him and walked him to his car. You had that grin that told him you were up to no good. 

“I hope you enjoy your lunch,” you mentioned as he reached the driver’s side door. 

His eyes flicked to the paper bag clutched in his hand and back to the grin that danced across your lips. Slowly, he started to put the pieces together, and excitement mixed with something else stirred in his belly. He gave you a quick peck on your cheek and yanked open the door to his car, suddenly eager to get to work. 

He kept an iron grip on the wheel for the entirety of his drive. The paper bag sat in the passenger seat, taunting him. He was glad he was the only one in the parking lot as he haphazardly whipped his car into a spot. 

His legs moved almost as quickly as his thoughts as he entered the pizzeria. His footsteps echoed throughout the hallway as he walked toward his office. A small part of him felt embarrassed that he was so excited to see whatever was in the bag.

He forced his breathing to steady as he entered his office. Mike didn’t pride himself on being a patient man, but he figured whatever was in that bag would definitely be worth the wait. He leisurely went through the motions of his nighttime routine, checking the security cameras and making sure all the animatronics were in their correct spots. He’d hoped they would leave him alone just long enough for him to open his gift. 

Finally, he settled into his rolling chair with the paper bag in his lap. He prayed he wasn’t getting his hopes up for a sandwich.  He gingerly opened it and peeked inside. Nestled neatly among the contents of the bag was a VHS tape. His heart rate quickened as he pulled it out and read the label on the front. ‘For Mike’ was scribbled in your neat scrawl and hearts were scattered along the label. 

His hands shook slightly as he ejected the training tape from the player and slid yours in. The TV came to life and it took him a moment to figure out what he was looking at. His eyes widened when he realized he was watching himself sleep. Midday light was shining through his window, and you were grinning as you stepped into the frame. 

You were wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his hoodies; his cock jumped in his jeans from just that alone. Such a simple sign of ownership had his breath catching in his throat as he continued to watch. You made a show of stripping for him. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly tugged them down your legs. You’d taken your underwear off at the same time as your sweatpants, wasting no time in baring yourself to him. 

You had that same grin that he loved as you bent down to pick up something off the floor, giving the camera the perfect view of your ass. He felt like he was about to burst as you lifted his pants and, with a flourish, tucked your underwear into the front pocket. 

He frantically patted the front of his pants and reached inside each pocket. He released a sigh as his fingers wrapped around the lacy fabric of your panties. He pulled them out of his pocket and brought them to his nose, breathing in your scent. 

His cock pressed uncomfortably against his jeans as he watched you take your hoodie off, revealing that you wore nothing underneath it. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as your fingers danced across your chest. He leaned back in his chair, your panties clutched in one hand while the other worked to free his cock from his jeans. 

His fingers were clumsy as he unbuttoned his jeans and yanked down his zipper. He slipped his hand past the waistband of his briefs and gasped as he finally slid a hand over his length. He watched as you caressed his thighs before moving to finally touch him. 

He tugged his briefs down and under his balls, just like you did on the tape. Your actions were gentle but precise as you stroked him. He matched your pace perfectly. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you slid your hand over his aching cock. 

You pulled away, and Mike halted his own movements, a low whine escaping him. His cock jumped in his hand when you wrapped your plush lips around his cock. He swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, matching the seductive way your tongue swirled around it.  Your position in front of the camera allowed him to see every minute detail of you bobbing your head around him, and he could already feel the familiar coil tightening in his abdomen. 

A strangled sigh escaped his lips as you drew back with a wet pop. You darted your tongue out to taste him across your lips. A shiver went up his spine at your actions. You were careful as you straddled him and drug your core against him. 

He moaned along with you as you lowered yourself onto his cock. He was slightly surprised he didn’t wake up with you above him whining like that. A part of him wished he did wake up, so he could’ve fucked you properly. 

He planted his feet and rutted his hips into his fist as he watched you create the marks he now donned. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled his small office, and every inch of his skin burned with desire. 

He took your panties and slid them across his cock, moaning as the lacy fabric drug against his flushed skin. The feeling mixed deliciously with the smoothness of his palm, and his back arched against the chair. His jaw went slack, each breath punctuated with a needy moan and a thrust of his hips. 

With a strangled cry, he was cumming, eyes glued to your form as you fell apart on his cock. The pretty little whines you were making were going to be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. The white strings of his release covered your panties with some dripping down his fist and across his knuckles. 

He used your panties to clean up the mess he made. His cheeks flushed as the lace smeared his release over his cock. He prayed you’d leave the light on for him.  

[bahablastplz]

Canvas: Hyunjin x Reader

Content: A late night with your boyfriend turns into something more as you both try something you had only talked about before; smut and fluff Warnings: p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, heavy heavy praise WC: 2500 Happy birthday Hyunjin <3

Hyunjin was painting again. 

As you roll out of bed in the middle of the night, this fact is apparent. The smell of paint wafts from the living room where he has his work space set up. A large tarp on the floor, a small easel propped up and a lamp set to illuminate his latest work. Paints lay haphazardly around him, a blend of colors and shades of hues mushed across the palette. The rest of the room was dimly lit, moonlight shimmering through the curtains and shining on your boyfriend’s face. God, he was breathtaking. One paintbrush is in his mouth and the other in his hand, gliding across the canvas. The sight makes you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Love?” He looks up at you now, watching your frame as you admire him from the wall. The lamp light reflects onto his dark-framed glasses when his gaze meets yours, and you smile at how the yellow and orange lights glow across his features. He smiles back. It’s a small gesture, and even though you’ve seen him smile hundreds of times the gesture warms your heart. 

You cross the room in your nightgown, the cold breeze from the air-conditioning causing you to curl into yourself slightly. Hyunjin beckons to the spot on the floor beside him and you take it eagerly, body curling around him and head resting on his lap. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him. He has the habit of sneaking away in the night, so as to not wake you, and painting until the sun starts to creep through the windows. It’s cathartic for him, a way for him to get away from his thoughts that trouble him in the night. In moments like this you love to watch him, how his brows furrow in concentration and his lips get caught between his teeth. Hyunjin was the most in his element when he had a canvas in front of him. 

“Mm,” he confirms. He checks his hand to make sure no paint dirties it before he rests it on your hip, drawing soothing circles on top of your nightgown. Your head nuzzles deeper into him and you breathe in his scent, letting out a content hum. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks a moment later. His hand moves effortlessly across canvas, dappling acrylic paint across a vision of flowers that was already the picture of perfection to you–but would probably take him at least a few more hours to complete. He was a perfectionist like that; he could point out every absence of color, needed highlight or small imperfection of his work that was near imperceivable to you. 

“No, the bed was just cold. I wanted to see where you were,” you hum against his skin. Your words were true, of course; because you get so hot when you sleep next to your boyfriend, the house usually stays a bit chillier but you notice his absence sometimes when he leaves the bed late at night. He now wears a dark colored hoodie that swallows his features, meant for his comfort when lounging around the house like this. His pants are also meant for lounging, the gray sweatpants soft but covered in remnants of previous art projects known lovingly as his ‘painting pants.’ 

“Do you want me to warm you up?” You nod and crawl into his lap, nuzzling your face right into the crook of his neck. He lets out a breathy laugh underneath you, arms wrapping around your frame to bring you closer as he continues to work. After a few minutes your boyfriend leans closer to the canvas, examining a piece of his work that must have not looked right to him. This action shifts your position, however, your core now pressed right against his clothed length. You tense against him and your breath hitches slightly, and you know that he’s caught on to your arousal. 

“How much longer?” You whine against him. He lets out a laugh and uses his free hand to stroke your back, long fingers moving languidly across your spine. The action is meant to soothe you but has the opposite effect, sending an electrical shock down your body and causing you to let out a small breath. 

“Why, love? Are you feeling needy for me?” You nod almost embarrassingly fast. While you love watching Hyunjin paint and could for hours, you can’t help the want that settles deep in your gut that begs for his touch, his attention, and his desire to be released toward you. 

“I was hoping to paint for a while more,” he confesses. You try not to let your disappointment show, but you let out a moan as the man’s hand finds your hips, pushing you harder against him. The friction that meets your core has you feeling more desperate and you buck into him and he’s smiling, and it infuriates you to know he’s intentionally trying to work you up. He has always loved seeing you pliant, needy and desperate for him, and you were unfortunately already in that state somehow. “Do you want to sit on my cock baby?” Your head reels back to look at him with wide eyes. “You can sit on my cock while I paint but you have to be good and promise not to move, okay?” 

You had talked with him about cock-warming before but it was never something you had actually done. Now, it must be just past 3 a.m., and you were finally turning the hypothetical into reality–it felt unreal. You let out an affirmative sound and nod your head, and he’s maneuvering your bodies to get you set up. He repositions you so that you’re on your knees above him, slightly towering over him where he sits on the floor. He’s lifting his hips up and pushing his pants down just past his thighs, releasing his cock and pumping it one, two times. He’s hard already, and you watch him in awe as he works to pleasure himself in front of you. It’s just for a second, but enough for him to have your breath come to a stop, which is exactly what he was waiting for. 

His hands find place on your waist. He’s hitching your nightgown up above your hips, leaving you bare for him. It’s no secret that sometimes you sleep without underwear on, but he smirks at you and stares in a way that leaves you feeling utterly exposed despite him having seen you like this hundreds of times. His fingers come up to your core, rubbing it and gathering your wetness to spread it around your folds. You let out a moan at the action, thankful for the contact before he’s dragging you down and placing his cock at your entrance. 

He leans back on his hands and looks up at you, waiting for you to do the rest. And so you do, piercing yourself onto him and sliding down his length, inch by inch. Hyunjin was well-endowed, so to speak, so it was never an easy fit to take him but it felt pleasurable nonetheless. Finally he is fully inside you, and your breathing and each moan is completely synced with one another. A hand comes up to bring a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the movement is so domestic and loving that it makes your heart pang in your chest. 

“Beautiful,” is all he says. 

He brings your nightgown back down so that it covers you up, remembering your recent complaint about being cold. Your head finds its place back on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck like it’s your home. 

And, he continues painting. 

You’re not sure why you’re surprised–that’s exactly what he said he was going to do. Your boyfriend has a lot of self-control and restraint that you did not, and it was especially evident when you were intimate. While you often become wrecked from the start, he would let his pleasure build up and would reel from the delayed gratification of it all. 

Your knees find the ground and before you can help yourself, you put your weight on them. You’re propping yourself up, sliding up his length about halfway, before crashing back down. Your clit drags deliciously across his abdomen in the process, causing you to let out a heavy sigh of pleasure. You rock against him only one more time before strong hands find your shoulders, pushing you down hard. You try to bounce up again and find that you’re unable, his grip keeping you in place so firmly that you cannot budge despite your attempts. 

“Don’t,” he scolds. His words are sharp, not laced with venom but to remind you of his earlier demands. 

At this angle, his hands pushing you down causes his cock to be seated deeper inside you than before and you let out an embarrassing squeak. You feel so full, and you tell him so. 

He has an idea; he grabs you and leans forward, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his torso. When he sits back down, you are now unable to give yourself the momentum needed to move your hips or rock against his length. You are fully seated on him and he is fully inside you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you flush against him as he continues his work. 

It’s silent, now, with the exception of your shallow and uneven breathing. You find yourself clenching against him over and over again, reeling in the sensation of him inside you. And it’s just that–you can really feel him like this, every ridge and vein, every pulse of him inside you, and it has you feeling lightheaded. 

“God, baby, you’re gushing around me,” he whispers into your hair. “Taking me so good.” His praise makes you smile and squeeze tighter around him and he groans. You feel smug to finally get him to lose his composure, but he starts spouting more praise that makes all thoughts vanish in an instant.

“So good for me, baby, you know that? Such a good pussy. You’re the love of my life, God, you were made just for me. You were made for me to love you, to hold you like this… So pretty for me. You’re all mine, meant to take my cock, yeah?” You whimper against him, the mixture of sweet nothings and sexual praise whispered to you making you feel dizzy. 

It’s several more minutes before you say something, finally coming to the conclusion that you would have to be the one to initiate it further, if he would even let you. 

“Please…” It’s all you can say at first. 

“What, love?” He teases. He knows exactly what you want. 

“Need you to move, please, Hyune… It’s too much. Need to cum,” You beg. You’re sure you sound pathetic but you can’t find it in you to care. If there’s anyone who’s not only willing but wanting to see you in your most pathetic and vulnerable states, it’s Hyunjin. 

“Poor thing, does it feel that good?” His voice asks with a small lilt in it. You’re sniffling now, embarrassed about the tears starting to spill down your cheeks but so overcome in pleasure and sensitivity; you can both feel it in the ways that you clench around him unabashedly. He brings his head back to see your face, to examine your tears. He’s seen you on the verge of tears a few times while having sex from being overwhelmed by pleasure, and though it always makes his heart tighten because he’s the one that’s doing that to you, he’s the one making you feel that good,  he knows it’s about time you’ve reached your limit. He wipes a stray tear away and you don’t even realize that he has dropped his paintbrush until he’s picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. 

He leans back, enraptured by you, and brings you in for a sweet but messy kiss. It’s open-mouthed and hot, and it feels like you’re breathing into him and filling up his lungs. Your tongues meet and you’re covered in spit, a mixture of yours and his, and suddenly his hands are on your hips and his feet are planted strongly on the ground. He doesn’t disconnect his mouth from yours as he thrusts up into you long and hard, but any coherence is long since gone and you’re not sure you’re even kissing back anymore, instead giving loud, high-pitched moans into his mouth. 

His hands move to the undersides of your thighs and he uses his strength to piston into you. In this way, you can only take what he gives but it’s more than enough, as he knows your body better than you do. 

“I’m close, love,” he confesses. He lets his head fall back onto the couch but his eyes never leave yours, drinking up your scrunched up face and open-mouthed pants. It’s no surprise that you’re both close to your arrival so soon, after sitting on him for so long your pleasure feels like it’s increased tenfold. 

“Me too,” you say, struggling to get the words out. You didn’t have to tell him, though. He could tell by the way you were starting to tighten around him. 

“Go ahead and touch your pretty clit for me, make yourself come.” You follow his command, hand snaking down to where your bodies meet. He was right, you were absolutely soaked, and you use this wetness to shakily circle around your clit. His thrusts get harder, deeper, the way they do right before he cums. Unsurprisingly, you beat him to it, clenching all over his length and throwing your head back as you release. 

He follows suit, thrusting into you a few more times before he finds his release, spilling deep inside of you. He holds you close, rutting into you now slowly and working you both through your intense orgasms. When he stills, you collapse into his arms and he holds you tight, embracing you and running a hand through your hair as he praises you. When he finally pulls you off of him you feel empty and this makes you whine. Hyunjin pulls up his sweatpants and carries you to your shared bathroom, placing you onto the sink as he runs the bath. It’s late, but you feel grimy and covered in sweat so the bath is more than welcomed. 

When you look into the mirror, you can’t help but laugh. Your nightgown is covered in paint at your hips and your waist. Though he had tried to be so careful, you suppose it was the risk that came with the reward. When Hyunjin sees the target of your laughter, he joins you and apologizes sheepishly, promising to buy you another. 

“It’s okay, this can just be my paint nightgown,” you joke. “I’ll wear it the next time we have sex while you’re painting.” He smiles at you affectionately, and when you finally get back to sleep it’s in his arms and your bed is warm again.

*** Masterlist Recs

[girlboypersonthingy]

Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

[amsznn]

can you do a story about how chris and the reader meet at tara’s party but before that, reader accidentally revealed that she found chris cute and the she went viral for it (idk if that makes sense)

SOCIAL MEDIA FRENZY - c. sturniolo

2 days ago..

“chat are we enjoying this haul? don’t flame my style in the comment section.” you warned to your viewers on instagram live before grabbing the next package of clothes off the floor, ready to show your 14k viewers the next batch of items. “next youtube video when?” you read off from a comment.

“this was going to be a youtube haul, but i got lazy so..new video this week!”

your rise as an influencer had to be studied. from a random youtube vlog that you made out of the want to romanticize your life a bit and a rant on tiktok people found funny that gained 2.5 million likes caused you to not only receive near to 3 million subscribers on youtube but almost 1.9 million on tiktok.

this was only in the span of 2 years. growing and working to not only please your new fans but to also have fun for yourself as you still decided to go to college for that degree.

social media was just a hobby for you like a lot of people say. but you truly couldn’t expect the new wave of attention you would revolve for a simple comment you made.

the next item of your haul was a fitted cap that you saw at a pop up shop in your city. you recognized it from somewhere else and decided to buy it since it was also cute.

“guys this cap i actually bought because this youtuber, chris sturniolo also wears it in his videos.” at the mention of the social media star your comments flooded. “guys calm down, im not crazy, he’s just cute okay?” you laughed before setting the cap down then moving to the next piece of clothing.

soon enough you ended the live and went on with your day as normal. filming a bit of your vlog for your new video, answering emails from brands, doing some household chores and of course, settling down in your bed with some snacks for your nightly tiktok scrolling.

as soon as you opened the app you got bombarded with a screen recording of your live with the bit where you said chris was cute. it was all over. even on twitter you began trending for the potential new relationship between you and the social media star.

all you could do is read the comments, some encouraging and some hateful, watch edits of you two being shipped, and quickly text your manager profusely apologizing for the mess you just made.

you groaned while rolling around in your bed. sometimes you just forgot you were too well known to be spewing whatever nonsense came to mind.

which brings us here.

at taras party.

since she was inviting influential people, and her friends, you were a definite invite on her list. and you knew either all of one of the triplets would be there too.

you were nervous to bump into chris. would he even speak to you? and if he did would he be uncomfortable or understanding? well you were about to find out in a moment since he was walking in your general direction.

you mustered up all the courage you could and began to walk towards him. feeling the need to apologize to him since the situation was your fault and it must be annoying for him as well.

you came to a stop as he turned his body to fully face you. your breath hitched for moment taking his appearance all in. his black hoodie and black baggie jeans with his messy hair was a lot to take in in person.

either way you were gonna say what you needed to say. “hey, my names y/n. you might know me. or not thats fine too!” you stumble across your words for a minute before taking a deep breath. you could feel his eyes on you but you remembered hes just a person too.

“you may have seen the plenty of edits and a lot of my supporters in your comment sections or dms, and i just wanted to say im sorry since its been going for three days now and you must be annoyed.” you said it all in one breath and finally met the boys eyes. instead of confusion you were met with a look of amusement.

“oh you’re completely fine. honestly i felt bad for you since you were getting a lot of hate for a simple comment.” chris shrugged while giving you his signature smile. you smiled as well glad that he seemed fine with the recent uproar.

“ive heard worse.” chris said while grimacing at the thought which caused you to laugh nodding in agreement. the night went on with you and chris sticking together for the majority of the party. introducing one another to friends, chris introducing you to nick (your new best friend) and overall having a great time. before you left chris made sure to get your number and texted you to make sure you arrived home safely.

you couldnt help the smile that was spreading on your face as you recall the events of the night. maybe making that comment wasnt so bad after all.

walking towards your room of your apartment, you plopped down onto your bed and decided to make a quick instagram post for the night.

and guess who liked the post?

a/n: i hope yall enjoy this cus i sure did (i was so close to making this into a smut 😭)

[pinksturniolo]

phone sex head canons

warning: nfsw!!

what would it be like to sext / have phone sex with….

Chris ✰

- oh, he definitely gets needy when you’re away from him. you could be on vacation, or at work or maybe he’s on tour or visiting his family in boston. whatever it is that’s separating you two at that moment, he’s blowing up your phone.

but don’t call him clingy. he would never admit that and he gets an attitude if you even imply it. still, there he is, calling you for the fifth time since you made it to your hotel. you’ve barely set your stuff down and he’s demanding you face time him.

“babyyyy i miss you already..”

“chris i’m only gonna be gone two days, i promise ill be back before you know it.”

“i know, i know…”

his eyes trail down your face and to your chest as you pull your hoodie off, just a tight tank top with no bra underneath. he immediately feels the blood rush to his lower half. it’s almost pathetic how quickly you turn him on. but he doesn’t care.

and now he’s getting even harder as you prop your phone up on the night stand, pulling off your jean shorts so you can change into your pajama pants. the sight of your bare thighs and the pink lace of your underwear has him squeezing himself through his pants, unable to help himself now.

“come on baby… don’t do this to me.”

“chris what are you on about?”

you’re a little clueless until you notice his gaze fixated on your body and his hand directly over the large tent in his pants.

“what am i supposed to do with this now?” he gestures to his boner and your heart races, a playful smile forming on your face.

“hmm.. why don’t you take some clothes off? and maybe we’ll see..”

of course this ends with you and him helping each other get off through face time, your fingers playing with the wet mess between your legs while he talks you through it, stroking his dick until he cums in his hand.

Matt ✿

- he's sooo sweet. he loves how you patiently wait for him when he's away working. to be honest, he's not a huge texter. he prefers in person conversation and only talks on the phone if necessary. but with you, he always has time.

he loves to listen to your voice and spend all night talking with you. if you're not around each other, he's constantly thinking of what you're doing. if you miss him as much as he misses you... if you feel that certain missing piece only he can satisfy...

his thoughts can get a little... dirty. but he's not your stereotypical "send nudes" kind of guy. still, he knows how to tease you and let you know just how much he wants you. he likes to wait until you're in public or around other people, to catch you off guard. just to mess with you a little.

"and that was my day. how was yours?" you ask, your phone pressed to your ear as you mix the cookie batter. it was family night at your parent's house, and they were picking the next movie as you made everyone dessert.

matt was in boston for the weekend, and just finished filming a car video.

"boring. and lonely without you. i wish you were here."

"me too... i definitely need to go with you next time."

"yes you do. and then i can show you my old room like you've always wanted."

you smile to yourself, scooping the batter onto the baking sheet. you always told matt how much you wanted to visit his childhood home.

"and... i can show you how comfortable my bed is..."

you can practically hear the smirk on his face.

"oh yeah?"

"yeah. would you believe me if i said you would be the only girl who's been in it?"

your smile grows wider, putting the cookies in the oven.

"it's not nice to lie, matt."

"i swear."

he teases you even more the next day, when he texts you while you're at dinner with your friends. he gets you all worked up while you squeeze your thighs together under the table until you can’t take it anymore and run somewhere private to call him.

taglist!! <3

@mattspolitank @sturniolopepsi @whicked-hazlatwhore @tillies33ssss @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @jnkvivi @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt @streamermattsgf @jetaimevous

[eevees-hobbies]

Honeyed Kisses Against Tender Flesh (Fem!Reader x Hayato Suo) - NSFW

Author’s Note: I got carried away with this one. But shoutout to those of us who write for Hayato Suo cuz we really are working with crumbs. Like he’s whatever we say he is until we get more information. 

Synopsis: Your friend Kotoha and brother Hiragi are worried about your relationship with Suo. It all comes to a head at the beach, to your embarrassment and Suo's delight. No big deal, though; you’ll just have sex against Hiragi’s truck or whatever. 

Content Warning: I’m a really bad judge when it comes to dark content. To me, it’s a spectrum and while I don’t consider this particular story truly dark, others might. So I encourage you to read the warnings and make the best decision for yourself:

Smut with a plot, the obsessive kind of love, possessiveness, hickeys, bruises, biting, spit, enjoyment of public humiliation, teasing, licking of blood, sex/nudity in public, super brief mention of a golden shower, praising/worshipping language, unprotected sex, no-pulling out despite being asked (wrap it up, folks!), like he straight up says “nah.” 

Also, please note that you are written as Hiragi’s sister in this story. I do not expand on your relationship, so you might be his half-sister, full-sister, step-sister, adopted sister, etc. I say this for my readers who may hold a racial/ethnic identity different from Hiragi, hoping that you can still feel like this story is for you (because it is <3). Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 3.2K

Divider by Saradika. Story banner by me.

On a day when you and your Bofurin friends decide to visit the beach, the unforgiving intensity of the sun makes you feel as though you’re simmering in a boiling pot. No one except you is ill-prepared; the men are wearing various colored shorts that seemingly match their personalities, and their unclothed torsos are on full, unapologetic display.

Kotoha, sitting on a beach towel next to you, is in a three-piece halter bikini set with a sheer sarong skirt that accentuates her curves. Even your brother Hiragi has abandoned his usual band shirt to showcase his well-toned arms and abs. You find it pretty horrifying but good for him, you think. 

It’s hard not to be jealous of all the bare, suntanned skin as you take inventory of your fit. You are wearing an oversized grey hoodie and sweatpants combo that covers every inch of you. Underneath your hefty clothes is a simple but cute black two-piece bikini you originally planned to show off that day. 

You are roasting under the sun's rays—and in your anger—as you glare at the person responsible for your attire: Hayato Suo. 

He’s sitting on the beach towel with you, his perfectly parted hair blowing softly against the breeze. Despite his attempt at trying to appear inconspicuous in reading his book, you can tell that he’s very much aware of your disdain for him with the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. 

Kotaho lowers her sunglasses so she’s looking at you over the rim of the frames.

“Why are you wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants at the beach of all places? I’m getting hot just looking at you.”

You shift uncomfortably, having hoped that this was not a conversation that would come up. You instinctively pull the collar of the sweatshirt higher until it’s tucked snuggly under your chin. “It’s not so bad! I just have to stay hydrated!”

Kotoha leans closer to you and lowers her voice, obviously trying not to catch the attention of Suo. “But why? Is this a cry for help because of you-know-who? Say the word, and I will scream.”

You and Kotoha have become close since you applied for a position to work at Cafe Pothos. She was your boss, but she’s also the embodiment of a girls-girl. You bonded over cooking and annoying brother figures; there wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about each other. 

So color her shocked when one day she picked up her cell phone after receiving a series of texts that were coming in rapid succession. She had assumed the sender was Umemiya, but instead, they were from you!

8:50 PM: OMG 8:50 PM: You won’t believe what just happened to meeeeeeee ihfdnf 8:51 PM: SUO! SUO! 8:52 PM: He KISSED me!  8:55 PM: HELLO?! The love of my life just put his tongue in my mouth and you HAVE THE AUDACITY TO NOT ANSWER!? I’m heading to the cafe right fucking now.

Kotoha was confused, not because she didn’t think you deserved the world—you deserved the world and more. She was confused because she couldn’t picture you and Suo together. He was pleasant whenever he came into the cafe, only ordering tea and always leaving a big tip. But other than that, she didn't know much about him, and no one did, and that was a difficult thing to accomplish in a small town. 

So when you finally ran into the cafe, practically colliding into the glass door as you shuffled in, Kotoha poured you a fresh cup of coffee, sat you down, and asked if you were sure about this.

Were you sure it was a good idea to date a guy who wore an eyepatch, had never been seen eating, and had a different story about his life every time he was asked? You assured her that Suo was the man of your dreams and you’ve never been more sure of something in your life. And while Kotoha may not know much about Suo, there were small moments that felt as though you were gradually building up to this kiss all along. 

The way he’d offer to walk you home even though it was out of his way, how his hand would brush up against yours and linger when passing you coins to pay for his tea, and god, that smile of his that usually didn’t reach his eyes but did when he was talking to you.

You were adamant that this was something you wanted.

You didn’t exactly come out as “official,” though. In a strange way, your relationship just “was.” 

Your friends acted as though you had always been together, and the way Suo became a constant in your life—walking you home after every shift from the cafe, texting and calling you more often, holding your hand in public, and taking you out on dates to your favorite places—made it difficult to remember what life was like before him. You quickly became the shadow of the other, and not without concern from Kotoha and Hiragi. Some would call your love for each other smothering, but to you; it was anything but that—it was perfect. 

“Everything is fine, Kotoha, I promise.”

She lets out a sigh and pulls her sunglasses back up. You can see the reflection of the guys in her dark shades—Hiragi, Umemiya, Sakura, and Kaji playing volleyball, sand kicking up as shouts of, “get that, doofus!’ and “who are you calling doofus!?”  traveling over to you but being drowned out by the roar of waves breaking shore.

A bead of sweat travels down the side of your face, and you look up at the sun, hoping to will it away with a pitiful look.

“Why not take off that burdensome outfit, sweetheart?” 

Your head snaps in the direction of Suo, the tone in his voice–thick with faux concern–alluding to the pleasure he’s getting from watching you like this. He’s all too aware of what you’re hiding—he’s the culprit who put you in this situation.

He shrugs innocently, “you’re developing sweat stains,” you follow his finger as he points at you. To your horror, giant wet spots have formed at your armpits and collar. You groan, the realization that if you don’t shed these clothes soon, you’ll likely meet your untimely demise via heatstroke—and that’s a very unsexy way to go. 

A shaky hand grips the drawstring of the sweatshirt, and you peel it off with the sweatpants following shortly after. Before you can set the clothes beside you, Kotaha lets out an audible gasp. You wince, knowing that your movements and her sharp intake of breath will surely draw the boys' attention—a result that you were trying your damnedest to avoid.

You thought Hiragi’s booming voice would be the first to reach your ears, but instead, it’s Sakura’s. 

“What happened to YOU?!” 

The volleyball spinning through the air hits him square in the chest; a loud thud has him doubling over in pain, but it’s not enough to break away Hiragi’s stare from the bruises and hickeys that litter your neck, chest, and thighs.

After gathering himself, Sakura stands up and turns his attention to Suo, “You should really keep a better watch over your girl. She’s obviously getting her butt kicked somewhere-”

Sakura is unable to finish before Hiragi interjects. He takes a step forward, and if you weren’t on sand, you’d be almost positive that the sheer force would shake the earth. “Suo, what did you do to my sister's skin?”

You stare at Hiragi, deep veins already protruding from his forehead. If looks could kill, Suo would be dead right now. You give a sideglance at your boyfriend, who has two hands raised near his head and his shoulders shrugged up to appear non-threatening. 

“I am NOT doing this right now!”  You proclaim, hurriedly picking up the keys to Hiragi’s car and padding through the sand, trying your damnedest to escape the sound of rising voices. 

Suo follows you soon after de-escalating the situation. Assuring Hiragi that he may have gotten carried away with the amount of hickeys and bruises he left on your skin wasn’t easy by any means, but you two were both consenting adults, so there wasn’t much Hiragi could do anyhow. He desperately wanted to add that you didn’t mind the bruises when they were happening to you—but that didn’t seem wise.

Hiragi’s truck is parked next to the property line between the beach and the expanse of forest. When you arrived, the parking lot was full of people, but beach-goers packed their belongings and left as the day neared its end.

Suo can’t see you as he approaches the truck's passenger side, so he assumes you’re on the driver's side. As he rounds the corner, he’s met with the sight of you bending over and attempting to fish the keys off the ground, which must have fallen. The sight of your ass completely swallowing the seat of your bikini bottoms has him suddenly leaning against the car for support and blood flowing south. Even with one eye covered, he can see the outline of your puffy pussy. The bikini is much better, he thinks to himself.

You turn around, hearing the sound of gravel shifting quietly—hoping that your brother hasn’t followed you, but it’s Suo. 

“Well, that was awk-“ you begin, but you're cut off. The fluidity and quickness of his motions still surprise and catch you off guard. He pins you in place to the truck with his body—chest to chest.  

You can see arousal churning in his eye as his now rock-hard cock presses against your thigh. At that moment, you’re thankful that the shade of the trees shrouds this side of the truck and that anyone coming from the beach would need to walk around the vehicle to catch you in the act.

For Suo, the build-up of knowing what you were trying to hide from the group and the eventual reveal of his handiwork had given him one hell of a rush. Being in on the secret was fun, but the way Hiragi’s eyes darted over your skin, the way he caught Kaji’s cheeks reddening as his eyes swept over your exposed and marked-up flesh, it was practically unbearable.

Suo’s hand tugs at the string of your bikini top, and it doesn’t take long before the flimsy fabric releases and drifts to your feet. You shiver as cool air licks at your breasts and nipples, hardening the sensitive buds upon contact. It isn’t until Suo’s warm hands cup and massage your breasts that you let out a whimper; his touch feels firm and needy, delivering pinches and squeezes to the over-sensitive and bruised flesh.

“S-someone could c-catch us!” You protest in a hushed whisper, but you’re not pushing him away—you tilt your head back to rest it against the truck and arch your spine to give him more access to you.

“They’d be so lucky,” he growls softly into your neck.

As your stomach twists in arousal and nervousness, you know that the Hayato Suo who is fondling you in the parking lot against your brother's truck is a different Hayato than the one your friends interact with. 

Suo is often poised and has immense control over his emotions, but sometimes, he gets so overcome by desire that it feels like a gaseous cloud is seeping into your pores and lungs. 

You’ve become a welcome victim to the Suo that likes to grip you so desperately that he leaves bruises, bites you so hard that sometimes it breaks the skin, and fucks you so roughly that you’re confident that you’ve experienced the closest thing you can to death.  

“Suo, we shouldn’t. They saw my bruises and the hickeys. Toma might kill you.”

“You can’t convince me that this isn’t something you want. This,” he presses two fingers against the seat of your bikini, which sink into the moistness of you, “tells me otherwise.”

Your face grows hot because he’s right. You’re not innocent in your shared dynamic like Kotoha, and Hiragi would like to think—you crave him just as much as he craves you. 

You’re just as much of a thrill-seeker as he is but you two have to be quick; anyone in your group could come looking for you any second—and nothing would destroy your arousal more than Hiragi seeing your boyfriend fucking you in public. Suo would enjoy that, though. 

It’s as though he can read your mind because Suo is pulling down your bikini bottoms so that they hang around your ankles. 

His lips are on yours, his kisses somehow hungrier than his touches. Suo kisses you as though he’s found solace against the plush of your lips and the treasure housed within your mouth. He tilts his head so his tongue can explore every inch of you deeper; he’s unapologetically devouring you.

When he finally pulls away for air, his voice is low and almost gravelly, a departure from his usual calm tone.  

“You make me become the most disrespectful version of myself, Y/N.”

His fingers roll and pinch at your nipples, but his eye is on yours. His gaze is intense, and even though he looks at you as though you are his prey and he is your predator, the last thing you want to do is look away.

He continues, “I want nothing more than to be the nice, sweet boyfriend your friends and brother want me to be, but you turn me into someone I don’t recognize.”

He’s pushing his shorts down, and you groan at the sight of him. His dick sits straight up against his abdomen with a slight curve, an aggressive vein pulsates on the side, and the crimson tip of it is smeared in an ungodly amount of precum. How can such a pretty dick look so angry? 

Without much prep or warning, he pushes into your wet sex; he’s so deep so quickly that your body jerks reactively. 

He can’t hold back the moan that escapes his lips at finally burying himself in you. His mouth has found purchase against your neck; both he and you can feel your pulse quickening, firing rapidly against his tongue as it reaches out to lick at your skin. 

“When I look at you, just as you are, I want to ruin you. So if that means I’m covering you with bruises, hickeys, or the most intimate parts of me, so be it.” 

He sinks his teeth into your neck, and the sharp pain makes your eyes roll back. The searing sensation doesn't last long as his tongue laps up the droplets of blood that bubble from the punctures.  

“Tell me that you’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you,” his fingers are digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he holds your legs around his waist, allowing him to bounce you on his cock.. 

“H-Hayato, I’m just as obsessed with you, baby. I promise.”

And you mean it. You’ve never felt a love quite so all-consuming and suffocating. He’s explored every inch of your body; at first, the way his eyes drank you in made you squirm, but he assured you that he was simply appreciating what was his—you wouldn’t fault an art curator for appraising the Mona Lisa, would you, Y/N? No? Then let me be.

Suo has licked parts of you with enthusiasm, parts that you’d be embarrassed to admit to anyone. 

And for you, the taste of him is just as nourishing. When he pulls your head back by your hair,  his hungry eye communicating to you without him having to say it, you find yourself eagerly opening your mouth and accepting his spit on your outstretched tongue. 

The good girl muttered in his smooth voice afterward, and his infamous smile that reaches his eyes when he looks at you makes your clit twitch. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s his spit, cum, or other golden liquid of his, you want it all. 

During intimacy, Suo tears you down to the most basic, hedonistic version of yourself—his delivery never includes harsh language in the traditional sense—he would absolutely never call you out of your name. You are far too important to be called something derogatory. Sometimes you’ll refer to yourself as “his whore” or “his slutty girl,” and it will make him leak so much precum he has to catch his breath, but he hasn’t reached a point in which he has personally referred to you as those titles…yet.  

For now, he uses deft fingers and honeyed words dripping in veiled threats of orgasm denial and overstimulation to push you to the precipice of your pleasure—and you trust him to build you back up afterward with softly cooed hymns of worship and strokes of your tender skin. To Suo, you are a goddess, a deity to be revered. To Suo, you are everything. 

And it isn’t until moments like this that you see his mask slip. Your usually stoic boyfriend's mouth opening and closing in pleasure the same way that yours is, soft guttural moans escaping his lips and his brow furrowing, obviously about to lose control to you—-for you.

“You are everything, dove. You are my everything.” He groans as your silky walls clench around him, clutching him for dear life.

“You like it when I compliment you, pretty girl?”

You give him a grunt of approval, feeling yourself so close to becoming undone as he fills your head up with chants of his devotion.

At this point, each thrust has his dick bottoming out into your sopping-wet cunt. Pelvis to pelvis, you can feel every inch of you stretching to accommodate him. His maroon-colored pubic hair tickles at your skin, dampening at the contact of your slick as deep thuds from frantic thrusts fill the air.

And even though you’re only participating in a quickie, a rarity for you both, your cunt still drools just the same, streaks of it managing to glide down your inner thigh and leave droplets at his feet. 

“S-suo,” your nails dig into his shoulders, resulting in a delicious hiss from his lips. “Y-you have to pull out! You aren’t wearing a c-condom!”

Suo presses his lips to your ear; you can barely make out what he’s saying over the soft gasps and the way he’s suckling at your earlobe that he has pulled between his teeth.

“I can’t. You’re mine, and I want to fill you up. So you have to take it, dove. Take all of it.” 

And the way Suo says it, you know that he isn’t asking; he’s telling you what he plans to do to your body because you are an extension of him–you are his, and it’s his right to cum in you without silly obstacles like “protection.”

His pounding against your cervix feels animalistic, and the force of him fucking you is making the truck rock back and forth. 

You bite your lip and hold onto him for dear life as that oh-so-familiar feeling takes over. Your thighs squeeze him, and to muffle the scream bubbling up into your throat, you take a note out of Suo’s handbook and bite his shoulder so hard that he sees a hot, white flash. 

In that moment, you give each other everything—all of you becomes all of him—mixing into a mess of creamy, frothy white essence that drips down balls, legs, and thighs.

Between soft kisses on the fresh hickeys and bite marks along your neck, Suo chuckles, “Hiragi is going to be upset.”

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 3

WC: 1861 Masterpost CW: mentions of blood, past experimentation, and torture

Duke tugged the sleeves of the hoodie he had thrown on as he rolled out of bed down over his hands. The Cave was freezing. Usually the temperature was nice. Dressing up in layers of body armor and fighting crime made a person hot and the cool air of the Cave was a relief. When pulled out of bed by an all-hands meeting it was another story and so Duke tucked himself further in the hoodie.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t even his hoodie. This family (and those let into the inner circle) were almost all clothing thieves. Duke had even caught Wally West with his missing Gotham Academy hoodie once. The weird lack of boundaries had taken some getting used to. Seeing various family members naked for decontamination showers or medical procedures helped hurry that along. It was hard to care about who’s hoddie it was was after washing off cuddle pollen together.

The roar of a bike filled the Cave and Duke didn’t even look up. He knew the sound of Red Hood’s bike.

Man, he really had been in this family too long now, he thought and buried his face in his arms. Would they notice if he just went back to sleep?

“Perhaps some tea, Master Duke?”

Guess so.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Duke said and dragged himself properly upright to accept the mug of tea. At least it was warm.

Duke sipped at the tea, his favorite blend of course, as Jason sped into the Cave like the badass bastard he was. He spun his bike to a stop in one of the open spots.

“Hood,” Bruce addressed the other, the Batman™ gravel seeped into his voice even though he was dressed down in sweats, a hoodie Duke was pretty sure was actually Jason’s, and a brace on his wrist.

They all knew what Bruce meant though: report why an all-hands was called, why Tim wasn’t there, did those of them not suited up need to, was anyone they cared about hurt?

“No, old man, you report,” Jason said as he stalked up the steps towards them. “Who the fuck were you fucking fifteen years ago?”

Duke pinched himself to make sure he was actually awake and not still in bed having the most awkward dream. Alright, well, that hurt. So much for being saved from this conversation by the T-rex suddenly coming to life and breathing fire and them having to take it down with squirt guns and pool noodles.

He’d had some weird dreams since coming to live in the manor, alright?

“Um, ask what now, little wing?” Dick asked, looking between Jason and Bruce.

“I asked what I asked,” Jason said. He’d made it to the computer and they all turned obediently to look at the screen. Jason tugged off his helmet and set it down as he leaned against the console. “Who the fuck were you sleeping with at that time, Bruce?”

Bruce stared at Jason for a long moment. “Selina, mostly. Some socialites and such maybe still. What’s going on, Jason?”

“Oracle,” Jason said, not taking his eyes Bruce. “Red should have sent you some media. You’ll get why. Throw something fitting up on the screen.”

Despite what the superhero community and Gotham thought, everyone in the Cave knew that Batman was far from unflappable. They had all pulled one over on him before. But Duke had never seen Bruce looking like that before. As that image went up on the screen, it looked like someone had just shattered his brittle heart into pieces.

Duke couldn’t blame him. The sickly looking guy on the screen made Duke want to go find someone to punch and it wasn’t his face the other was wearing.

“Holy shit,” Steph whispered.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” Damian ordered.

“Jay?” Dick prompted when Bruce seemed unable to find the words.

Jason scowled down at the ground. “Red and I were on patrol. He noticed… blood.”

Babs brought another image up on the left monitor without prompting. It was a Gotham alley like any other except it was splattered with a green spray.

“That is Lazarus water, that is not blood,” Damian said. His words were as haughty as ever, but there was a wobble under them.

“It’s blood for him,” Jason said. “Trust me. I held the kid as Red stitched him up. Knife wound. It was the only… new wound. Oracle, did Red send you…”

A new image popped up on the left screen and Jason closed his eyes. Duke had to swallow heavily and look away himself. He got now why Jason came in demanding who Bruce had slept with. Bruce’s heart was going to break all over again.

“Who?” Cass signed. Her motion was sharp and aggressive as she pulled her thumb from her chin after the sign.

“We don’t know,” Jason said. “He was jumpy.”

The picture of the horrible injuries was replaced by a video, clearly from Red’s suit. The guy was pressed against the wall, one hand gripped tight over the wet, green stain on his hoodie. He looked dwarfed in it.

“Hey, looks like you could use some help with that wound before you bleed out,” Tim said in the video. Duke could hear how he was keeping his tone carefully light.

“…just who are you supposed to be?” The guy’s voice could barely be heard.

“You must not be from Gotham. I’m Red Robin, one of the heroes here.”

The guy snorted, curling further into himself rather than relaxing at that. “So you’re just going to hand me over to the government then?”

Everyone in the cave stiffened at that, including Jason, which was interesting.

“Why would I do that? I’m a vigilante. Do you know how illegal what I do is? I just don’t want to see you bleed out. Maybe I can even take you to a safe house where you can rest.”

“So that you can interrogate me? No thanks.”

“I mean, I’d like to know who tried to kill a kid, but that’s to make them pay, not you.”

As the guy gave a horrible laugh, Duke reached out and touched Cass’ elbow, reminding her they were all there. These sort of things always hit her hard. She sent him a grateful smile before focusing back on the screen. “Maybe I deserve it.”

The guy tensed suddenly, weight shifting like he was about to bolt as the video slumped slightly sideways.

Jason’s voice rumbled from close to the camera. “You’re what, sixteen?”

“…fifteen?”

“Uncertain,” Cass spoke. Duke had to agree, the guy didn’t know how old he was, not for sure.

“Yeah, no fifteen year old deserves to bleed out. You know who I am?”

Duke tracked the motion of the hood as it slipped. The white hair was curious, considering Bruce, but if the guy was a meta or had been in the Lazarus Pits long enough… or worse, both…

“I’m Red Hood. I protect part of this city called Crime Alley. I’m not afraid to kill a shithead, especially ones that hurt kids, but I never harm a kid,” the Jason of the video said, something they all knew was true. It was an argument still often enough on bad days. “I’ve got places to put you if you needed somewhere safe; places not in the system. Or we can get you somewhere. Do you have a place to go to?”

The guy laughed again. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.”

It was Tim who asked, “Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?”

After the photo earlier, they all knew what the guy would look like when he lifted his head, but it still made Duke glance over at Bruce.

“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

-

Jason motioned and the video stopped there and went away.

Bruce closed his eyes.

I need to get to Bruce Wayne.

Another son he didn’t know about. Another son he failed to save from a horrible childhood because he didn’t know they existed.

“He didn’t want to see you right away, but we think that Tim and I convinced him that we could arrange a meeting between you and him,” Jason said.

“Of course,” Bruce answered instantly.

Jason just gave a little nod and explained, “He doesn’t trust the offer, or us, completely. It was enough to get him to the safe house. Passed out on the way.”

“And still asleep,” Tim piped up from the computer. “I’ve been running analysis on the… collar he’s wearing. It’s definitely a one off, but very professionally made. There’s, well, there was a tracker in it that’s been crushed. It’s meant to deliver a shock if someone messes with it, but I can disable that long enough to remove it.”

“You should wait until one of is is there,” Duke spoke up. “Just… in case there’s a reaction when it’s removed.”

Duke ducked his head when all eyes turned to him, still bashful as the newest member of the family. Bruce had been trying to reassure the other, but he knew that was far from his own strength. Clearly he needed to try a different approach.

“Just, you know, he’s clearly a meta? Of some type? It’s probably a containment collar and it could release a, you know, backlog? Of power?”

“Good thinking,” Bruce assured Duke.

“Someone better get here quick then. I hate seeing this thing on him,” Tim grumbled. At least he agreed.

Bruce looked back at the photo still on the center screen to the pale, drawn face. Even in sleep his son’s face was etched with pain.

“Bruce?” Dick prompted.

Bruce took a breath and made himself focus, to be Batman, not a grieving father. How often had he had to make that choice? “Dick, you and Jason both should go. Tim, as soon as the collar is off I want you and Oracle working on it but stay mindful of traps.”

“Will do,” Tim replied.

“And what of the rest of us?” Damian asked.

His youngest had come so far, but Bruce knew this would be a big disruption for him. They would have to watch him. He caught Cass’ eyes and she gave the slightest nod.

“I want Robin, Batgirl, and Spoiler out on the streets. Don’t ask questions yet, we don’t want to lead anyone to him, but get a sense of the mood around the big players. If this is already on anyone’s radar, I want to know.”

“And you need to make a list,” Jason said. “Kid talked in his sleep, begged his mom to stop. Could just be nightmares…”

“I’ll make one,” Bruce said. His bedroom proclivities were hardly what the papers reported, but with how this new son wasn’t certain of his age, it could be pre-Dick, or even at the start of Dick joining the family. It certainly meant there would be more names then any of the years later on. Whoever it was though, Bruce would find them.

He had to try and do that much for his son.

--- AN: Not entirely sure about Bruce's part here, but he's always harder for me to write! I think goal is to get at least one POV with all of the kids, so I guess Dick's is next likely! I'm super fuzzy today (fatigue, day fuck it, seven? Eight? Of this headache), so I hope this is at least decent~

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost to be notified!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Wearing their jackets (CRP) (Part 1/?)

Not sure how many parts this will make, maybe 3 at maximum hmm.. I'll rotate this between fandoms because I know some of yall probably don't wanna see the same prompt for the same fandom over and over LMAO

Characters: slenderman, splendorman, masky, hoodie, ticci toby

Notes: reader is gn, written on mobile.. admittedly admin may have written this or something similar for some of these characters but he's too tired to check + he generally loves rewriting older posts to compare and contrast stuff, written on mobile

CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

There aren't many pieces of clothing you can get off of him... but on the off chance that he takes off his coat and you can get your hands on it...

Doesn't matter how you're built, you're going to be practically drowning in the fabric... smells like the woods... earthy with pine... very comforting...

He's not used to having people stealing his clothing... if you're sleeping he's going to let you keep it for the time being

Why do you steal, though? Please explain so he can understand...... leaves his coat out unattended a little more often

SPLENDORMAN

You don't even need to steal anything! Just ask and he's going to give you whatever you want! His coat? His jacket? His bow? Whatever you want!

Thinks you look so so cute in them! Asks you to strike a pose in them! Trails behind you to make sure you don't slip or trip on the coat as it drags behind you

Doesn't matter the reason you want to wear his clothing, it makes his heart melt regardless

Starts shrugging off his jacket the moment you start shivering

MASKY

Honestly if you manage to get the damn thing off of him you're probably capable of everything you set your mind to... that's to say that it's not an easy task

WILL take it back from you when he finds you, but he MIGHT let you have it for a while if you explain that you just missed him while he was away from you... and the jacket

He doesn't get it, it's just fabric and he's here now so why do you still cling to it?

Leans into your side while you're wearing his jacket

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky, getting his jacket is a feat in of itself... but he's more likely to let you keep it from the get go

After all why let your hard work of sneaking and stealing go to waste? No sense in that!

He.... starts wearing his hoodie less and less just so you get the satisfaction going forward, thinks its endearing how proud of yourself you look when you walk into the room wearing his stuff

WILL slip you in the hoodie with him so you can both wear it

TICCI TOBY

His jacket is either going to be really soft or itchy... he... probably doesn't take the best care of it... so steal it at your own risk!

It's not that it smells or anything it's just that it's older and he's always running around with it on... at least he uses your place to wash it now!

Feels mixed feelings about you taking his stuff- he thinks it'd sweet that you want to wear it because you miss him or get comfort about it.. but he would prefer if you asked him first before taking it

Headcanoning that he's cagey of his belongings and is protective of them

[tsunamis-for-uzumaki]

Tips for making actually cheap punk clothes from someone that has spent a maximum of $11 on any specific project over 3 years:

Bottle caps make AMAZING pins. There's countless ways to make bottlecap pins, but I mainly do it by 1) filling the cap with hot glue and 2) gluing a safety pin to the back. It's up to the individual. But the point is: Save bottlecaps.

DRINK CANS ARE AMAZING FOR MAKING SPIKES! Any aluminum can works - Monster cans, beer cans, etc. - all you have to do is cut off the tops and bottoms; make it a flat sheet; cut the metal into small semicircles; and roll it into cones. They stay in place easily with hot glue, and when you put them onto anything, they look just as good as store-bought.

Save Can Tabs. They can be put onto jackets, made into chains, earrings, necklaces, or anything else you want.

Literally anything can be made punk. Jeans, cargo pants, denim jackets, t-shirts, shoes, hoodies - the sky's the limit. Don't let these tiktok punks tell you that only their $80 Social Distortion pants and $120 denim jackets can be punk. Any clothes you pull out of a dumpster can be punkified.

Old T-shirts that no longer fit and have a design on them can be cut out and made into backpieces. Band shirts are particularly great for this, so if you thrift a Motorhead shirt that's too small, you can cut out the design and sew it onto a jacket and bam - you've got an exclusive piece of merch.

This one's more of an opinion, but: If you're patching up a jacket, sew the patches onto the outside of the jacket. If you're patching up pants, create holes where you want the design, and sew the patches from the inside of the pants.

Do research. If a "thrift store" calls itself a cheap alternative store, but has $50 jeans, it's not a thrift store. It's a vintage reseller, and the clothes are almost always WAY overpriced.

Shoplift carefully. Go somewhere you don't usually go - a large chain like Walmart or Target or Staples, not a local business - and take small things. Don't go somewhere that you're a regular at, or shoplift multiple times in a short period of times, or do too much at once. You will develop a track record and have more of a chance of being caught. However, the workers don't get paid less for you stealing, and the big suits in corporate won't notice or care about a missing pack of dental floss.

Experiment! Have fun with it! I've been Frankenstein-ing my jacket for years and counting - I've taken off the sleeves, added new sleeves, painted on it, put patches on it, added pins, anything you can think of. Be loud, be ugly, be weird, be happy.

If you have a painted patch or spot on pants/a jacket/whatever and it's old, but you want to take it off now, or if you just made a mistake, acetone can get pretty much any amount and age of paint out of any fabric. By acetone, I mean most nail polish removers or rubbing alcohols.

Now, I hate buying things for making punk clothes, but there are a few things that, in my opinion, are investments that last FOREVER. This includes: Hot glue guns; nail polish remover (for the last tip, mainly); paint pens and containers of paint (fabric or not); sharpies; dental floss or just normal thread; fabric scissors; and SAFETY PINS. None of them are very expensive, but they'll come in handy for years.

ESPECIALLY SHARPIES. That's the one thing I won't debate is a perfect investment. You can get a set of 12 colors or 12 black ones for like $9, and you can use them for EVERYTHING. The color also won't bleed when washed, as opposed to most pens and markers.

SAFETY PINS ARE A FASHION STATEMENT IN AND OF ITSELF. They're super useful in making clothes and jewelry, they're cheap and easy to find, and just nice to line the hems of your pants with.

When you make a square patch, fold in the edges slightly so that the edges don't fray. This makes it slightly harder to sew on, but it keeps the patch in good condition for longer - unless the idea is to look tattered. Then don't.

Don't be afraid to add something random and weird to your clothing because "oh people are gonna see it and know I like this weird niche thing" - that's the whole point! It's an expression of who YOU are, not what people want you to be. If people - especially other punks - judge you for it, fuck them. Unless...

No swastikas, no iron crosses, no symbols of oppression, no TERF shit. I'd say that's the only rule of punk - to say "oppression is punk" is going against everything punk stands for. Of course, if you do it anyways, you should at least know you deserve the beating you get at a basement show attended by underpaid and rage-filled faggots.

Of course, these are just mine, and there's plenty more that I do not know. If you've got your own way of doing things that goes against mine, that's awesome. But if you need to start somewhere as a kid punk, I hope this helped.

[amourcheol]

filmbro-zoned (teaser)

❝Who knew all it takes is a hot girl with top-tier taste for a man to admit he's wrong?❞

g e n r e : college! au, fluff, crack, suggestive

w o r d c o u n t : 1k for teaser (approx 20k words for full fic)

s u m m a r y : self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slams his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

w a r n i n g s : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, mc is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual sex because im fearing god today, barbenheimer reference <3

p l a y l i s t : if you're too shy (then let me know) by the 1975 || q&a by seventeen || wonderful women by the smiths || confidence by ocean alley

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @hiraethmae @lllucere @intoanothermind @kokoiinuts

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : who would have thought i'd be writing a college au huh...alice will never let me live this down...also guys once again so sorry for constantly posting this hopefully i have found a way for the loophole...let us see if this teaser gets shown in the tags...

“WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON WOLF OF WALL STREET, AMERICAN PSYCHO, PULP FICTION…FIGHT CLUB, SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, SCARFACE…”

You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?” 

He could not help the scoff. “And you called me a Filmbro.” He set his forearms on the counter, locking his hands together. “What do you need these movies for?”

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

The term had him pausing. Of course—the ex-boyfriend. How has he heard of this man, but not know a thing about him? Shit, he did not even know your name.

“This ex of yours has an…interesting taste,” he said slowly. “What’s he like?”

“I can tell you he attends the same college as you. Well, us,” you clarified, jerking your head towards the college colours of your server’s hoodie. “Film major. Just like you, actually.” 

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

A hesitant nod of his head. “I have a few classes with him.”

“Oh?” Your stare was a little more intense now. “What do you think of him?”

Right. 

Another fated question—the people around him had to stop asking him such controversial questions, or else he was bound to piss someone off. You were already letting him off the hook too many times; one more judgemental comment, and he was having that Princess movie set smashed on his head.

Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by. 

What all these people failed to realise, though, was that Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university—and the planet, if dramatics were in order. If you thought that Vernon was a filmbro, then Mingyu was Filmbrother. Filmcomrade. Filmnemesis. 

It was as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his head. “You can be honest, you know. He did dump me at the end of the day.” A smirk began to appear. “Say your worst.”

The reassurance did not help. “I mean,” he started, swiping your card, “He’s okay? I haven’t talked to him enough to have an opinion on him.” 

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

But because the fates like to shit on his head every now and then for kicks, they decided to leave you unsatisfied with his answer. “Or, you can keep lying!” 

Excellent intuition, really. “I’m not!” he exclaimed, slapping the card back on the counter. “I really don’t know much about him.”

The big man upstairs was testing him even further, when, with a determined gaze, you set your elbows atop the surface. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side as you inspected him, and Vernon blinked back at the sheer lack of space you had created. His mouth twisted, eyes frantically darting at the features of your face, not quite taking in the entirety of your being. Your vision seemed to work perfectly, because it caught the slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, where it was just pale skin seconds before.

Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.” 

Fuck everything and everyone, because that only made him blush more furiously. You could not help the chuckle that escaped, deciding to cease torturing him and take your card. “I’ll not say the answer, Mr. Filmbro, but I think you already know.”

Since he had no plans of turning into a human form of a ketchup bottle, he evaded the topic entirely, instead focusing on interrogating you. “You still haven’t told me how Mingyu is related to the movie list you made.”

That seemed to hold your interest. “Oh, of course!” Putting the list back into your bag, you began, “Well, the list holds my ex-boyfriend’s favourite films. I wanted to know your opinion on a few.”

He could not contain his sigh. Oh, he had an opinion on these films that you mentioned. Again, he would rather be buried with his thoughts on the specific genre than ever tell you. The curiosity, though, was eventually going to eat him alive.

So much for minding his business.

“I mean…” he began to think, trying to find the right words. “I don’t mind them? Godfather is a good film, but I’ve seen better from Brando. I like American Psycho, but again, people tend to miss the point of the movie.”

As you nodded, listening to his two-cents on the movies you mentioned, he paused, furrowing his brows. “Why do you care about my opinion?”

You smacked your lips together, folding the list back. “I don’t know much about you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, “But you don’t run a filmstore without knowing a thing or two about the films you sell.”

“So?” He crossed his arms atop the counter. “Shouldn’t you have asked the guy who you made the list about?”

“Trust me,” you said, your smirk turning more into a rageful flash of teeth, “I know exactly what he thinks of these films.”

Don’t particularly know what to make of that comment. “Well, I don’t know what my opinion for these films is going to help you in any way.”

“It has helped.” You paused then, waiting to see if he would egg you on, asking how his seemingly tame opinions would play into the grand scheme of things. “All part of my master plan.”

Master plan? Vernon may have been interested before, but he was certain that, before, he could have hid it without letting you catch onto it. In a sudden flash, though, as if his mouth was beyond his control, he regrettably slipped out the words which had you smiling more than he would have liked.

“What master plan?”

He almost closed his eyes. Shit. Now I’m fucking invested.

The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.” 

[areyouwell]

Somnophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of sleep. Children or adults with this condition may experience hallucinations, voices and in some cases, death.

Ch.4

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

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, no spoilers ;), mentions of suicide attempt, scarring, nightmarish sequences

Word count: 13.2k

A/N: a reward for all your patience :)

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside

‘Told ya you looked tired. Get some rest, see you at 11 am. L.’

You’d woken up that morning to a note scribbled on a folded piece of paper, propped up against your alarm clock in such a way that you couldn’t actually see the time. And it had been like that every day for almost a month before that month fell into two. You and Logan fell into a comfortable rhythm, teaching classes together every other day, and on the days you weren’t teaching, he was helping you develop your mutation. 

You’d cook together, sometimes for the kids as well, and spend hours talking over dinner before heading into the lounge and cosying up in front of some movie or tv-show. Most of the time Logan noticed just as you were nodding off and would switch off the show before carrying you back up to your room. Sometimes you were still awake, but you didn’t protest. It was all part of the routine. 

However, one thing was bothering you slightly. You’d assumed, with Logan’s more animalistic instincts, he’d waste no time pouncing on you and dragging you into bed, though the moment things would get a little heated between the two of you, he’d pull back, breathless and warm, muttering something like “Not here.” You were fine with it, for now at least, but considering the two of you went from strangers to kissing in the kitchen to Nick Cave, it took you off guard a little. 

Though you’d settled on the explanation that maybe he wanted to take things a little slower, you were frustrated. Pent up. And it was taking all of your concentration not to pounce on him now as he shrugged off his flannel shirt. Neither of you had class today, which meant it was a training day. Not that your training has been useful. You seemed to have regressed, being unable to pull the shadows out with you as you had that first time. It was a completely different kind of frustration, and it was pissing you off. Majorly.

“I’m starting to think Xavier was wrong and that we all collectively imagined what we saw a month ago,” you lamented, hanging up your hoodie on one of the hooks near the door. You’d occupied a regular training room for this session, opting to leave the danger room for another day. Nothing had been accomplished, though it did serve to prove once again just how well you and Logan worked together.

Logan folded his arms across his chest. In truth, he thought this was going to be a lot easier than it was turning out to be. The progress you’d made in that first session set him up with a false sense of confidence, though he had to remain encouraging, despite the growing concern that you may not be able to pull this off. That was why he’d asked Charles to take over from Scott. He’d lost too many people in his life and was unable to do anything about it. If things were going to go anywhere between you, he needed reassurance that you weren’t about to disintegrate in his arms. Because the thought of ever losing you genuinely terrified the shit out of him.  “When was the last time Charles was wrong, hm?” 

You huffed, rolling your shoulders, wincing slightly from the cracking of your joints. “First time for everything…” you grumbled, hooking your elbow around your other to stretch out the muscle. Logan swallowed, his eyes drinking in your appearance. A pair of fitted gym leggings that had him gritting his teeth every time you turned around, paired with a front-zip sports bra that his fingers itched to tug down. He could smell your morning shower, the deodorant you used, whatever body spray you decided fit for today. Never one of those gaudy, overly fragrant perfumes. You preferred a softer scent, something that gave the allure of a misty forest, or a rainy lake. 

Fuck you smelt divine. Logan’s teeth ground together, wondering if what he had planned for today was a good idea. He’d been holding himself back from you. Fear of hurting you or driving you away had him shoving his instincts and desires to one side, burying them deep, deep beneath the surface. He could smell it on you, though. When he barely had enough strength to control himself, with wandering hands and lingering touches. He could smell how turned on you got and it killed him to step away from you every goddamn time. 

It was fucking torture. He was torturing himself. He was torturing you.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all… but it was a little too late now.

“I don’t wanna focus on your mutation today…” he began, and you whipped around to face him.

“What? Why? Isn’t that kinda the whole point?” You challenged, and Logan sighed. You were irritable today, and rightly so. He recognised how the lack of progress must have been making you feel, and he knew you were scared, and he wished he could tell you he was scared too. How he was terrified of failing you. But he couldn’t, not if he wanted you to have someone to lean on. 

“You rely on it too much.”

“Says the man who tanks bullets because he knows he can heal.” you shot back, folding your arms defensively. Logan took a breath.

“That’s different, sweets. ‘S not circumstantial. You get surrounded in the sunlight with nothin’ around to duck into, and you’re dead.” However, that would never be the case because Logan couldn’t imagine a situation like that where he wouldn’t be by your side. But the hypothetical worked to make his point.

“Okaaaay, what do you suggest then, Professor?” there was nothing malicious in your tone this time, the curve of your smile doing dangerous things to his head. He pushed it down again, cursing his body’s truly terrible timing, before gesturing to his chest.

“Hit me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You heard. Hit me.”

“No!” 

“Yes.”

You took a step back. “I’m not gonna fight you, Lo’.”

“Why?” he took a step forward, smirking wildly. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

“Yes! Extremely!” Logan barked a laugh at your honesty, earning himself a smile of your own. “Look at you! How is this a fair fight?” you grinned broadly at the ridiculous idea of sparring with him. “I pick my battles, Howlett, and I’m not about to pick one where I get my ass handed to me!” you exclaimed through bubbles of laughter. Logan listened to the constant urge to be closer to you, stepping forward to wrap you in his arms, your chin against his chest as you craned your neck to look up at him.

“I’ll go easy on ya, how ‘bout that?” He was provoking you. The sly bastard knew you couldn’t deny a challenge like that, and the way your eyes narrowed told him he’d hit the jackpot.

“You’re incredibly grating, you know that?” you hissed, wriggling to free yourself from his arms, only for him to respond by holding you tighter.

“Yeah? You gonna do anythin’ about it?” he smirked again, and you had an extremely strong urge to wipe it from his stupidly handsome face through any means possible.

“Let me go and find out.”

“Get free.”

You huffed. “Logan I’m serious.”

He raised a brow. “Yeah? So am I. Get free. And don’t use your mutation.” If you weren’t so pissed off, you would have fainted at the way he fucking growled. But instead, you took a calming breath. Annoyingly, he was right. You did rely on your mutation a lot when in combat. You’d been lucky enough on missions so far not to get caught without any shadows around, but from what you could tell from the very few meetings you were permitted to attend, was that the fight was evolving. Technology was evolving, and if an all out war was to break out, the odds between humans and mutants would be falling into humanity’s favour. 

And sometimes, a good ol’ fashioned punch to the face was worth more than dragging people into shadow. 

Tensing and flexing, you attempted to contort from his arms, resulting in nothing but an infuriating chuckle from your captor. “Strugglin’?” he asked, condescension dripping from his tone, and you spared him a fleeting glance only to see a mocking pout on his face. 

“Fucking asshole.” you snarled, managing to free your arms enough to push back against his chest. But Logan was strong. Insanely fucking strong, and you were held fast.

“Now what?” he poked, deriving a sick amount of sadistic joy from watching your growing fury. He wasn’t worried. You were already harbouring a lot of frustration, and this was the best way he knew to help you let it out. Since the other option was off the table for now.

You’d been formulating a plan for the last few minutes, your last few wriggles had been purely for show. Lulling him into a false sense of cocky security. Your hands slipped beneath his arms, grabbing a secure hold on his forearms. Sending him a knife-like smile, you went to push against his arms.

Logan sensed what you were about to do, feeling slight pressure against his elbow, he moved his arms lower, assuming you were about to attempt slipping out underneath. 

Bingo.

You barked a triumphant laugh, changing your grip in an instant. Your hands slipped up between his arms and your waist and gripping his shoulders. Logan didn’t have time to do so much as blink before your foot pushed against his hip and you flipped backwards and out of his embrace, landing a sharp blow beneath his jaw with your knee before you rolled back to a steadying stance a few paces away.

He blinked, hand subconsciously braced against his chin. It was a savage blow, but the throbbing faded almost instantly. He stretched his jaw, pride blossoming in his chest. “Good job, honestly didn’t think–” he was cut off instantly as you ran towards him, glaring venom. Something in you had shifted, and he’d be lying to himself if it didn’t make him think twice about pissing you off so much. 

He dodged back as you swung a punch, your left hook flying dangerously close to his nose. You moved with a speed he hadn’t seen from you yet, and with precision he’d only expect from highly trained veterans. You swung again from the right, and he dodged left, only to be met with a sharp blow from your leg. How had you shifted your weight so damn quickly? He didn’t have time to contemplate before your foot slammed into the centre of his chest and he stumbled backwards.

Catching his footing, Logan looked back at you, eyes wide in complete surprise. You stood dangerously still, your dark gaze watching him like a hawk. He was right in his observation. Something in you had shifted. Like a switch being flipped, you’d gone from treating this as a simple training exercise to actually engaging in a fight. He held his hands up in an attempt to placate you. “Alright, let’s take a breath, yeah?”

You silently bared your teeth before launching yourself at him again. Your leg sweeping towards his face in a roundhouse kick. He flinched back, pushing your foot to continue its trajectory past him, only to barely escape another attempt to decapitate him from your other leg. He caught it in his palm, his hand gripping your ankle tightly as he called your name. But you didn’t respond, using his grip on your foot to pull yourself closer. 

You hooked your leg around his neck, the way you pulled yourself upright was a testament to your sheer core strength as you shifted your weight back, and attempted to bring both of you to the floor. But Logan was a lot sturdier than you’d anticipated, loosening his hold and quickstepping forward, letting you fall to the floor. You were only down for a second before you flipped upright again. 

Logan watched as you extended your arm into the shadow behind you, cast by the metal balance bar running along all four walls of the room. Whoever this was, whoever he was fighting, you weren’t there anymore. Was this what happened the night Jade died? He couldn’t contemplate that right now, not as the thin shadow along the floor started to morph and shift, running like water from your fingertips to your elbow. He watched in horrified awe as the darkness solidified into a blade around your forearm, your hand having disappeared completely into a sharp point. 

“Holy shit…” he breathed along with a terrifying realisation. 

You were trying to kill him. 

He called your name again as you lowered into a crouch, waiting for a beat before once again sprinting toward him, leaping with inhumane strength. There was a sharp clang as obsidian met metal, Logan’s claws unsheathing from his knuckles to meet your overhead blow. You wrenched your blade from between his crossed claws, launching into a flurry of swipes, slashes and kicks. With every strike, the shadows shifted to each limb with clinical precision, your movements timed to perfection. 

Logan was meeting you blow for blow, though never striking back. He was purely on the defensive, simply trying to stop you from taking off his head or hands. He didn’t know how to get through to you, calling your name having absolutely no effect, and he was getting desperate. “You gotta st–” he flinched backwards to avoid yet another savage swipe. “Stop!” he shouted desperately, ducking below your slash and snatching your other wrist. He managed to make you pause long enough to look into your eyes.

Or, what used to be your eyes? Those captivating irises he’d come to know so well had been replaced by wells of nothingness, and if he hadn’t known any better, he’d say they were just a result of using your mutation to this extent. But he’d seen your eyes that first time you’d dragged shadows with you, they hadn’t been like this. This was something else altogether. You were completely absent. Hollow. 

What the fuck?

Logan barked a cry as searing pain shot through his hand, that black blade piercing through his palm and through the back. He yanked back, flexing his fingers as he started to heal immediately, though blood still left his hand slick. 

“Logan? What’s–” he whipped around to see Jean in the doorway, her eyes now fixed on you, mouth agape in horror. “Shit! Logan, step back!” she instructed, and he did so immediately. Looking back at you, he saw you didn’t move, though your muscles shook with the effort to do so. Jean was holding you fast, he could see sweat beading on her brow with the strain. “The Professor’s on his way now. Damn, she’s strong. You alright?” she asked, not taking her eyes from your immobilised form, your lips pulled up in a permanent snarl, your empty eyes darting between Logan and Jean.

Logan nodded a little hesitantly. “Yeah, ‘m fine…” whilst it wasn’t exactly a lie, it wasn’t the whole truth either. Physically he’d always be fine, his healing factor always saw to that. But it wasn’t your deadly strikes that alarmed him. Nor the sniper precision of your blows. He would be fine with both of these things if it wasn’t for the unmistakable stench of fear. 

Logan knew better than anyone, the more cornered the animal, the louder the snarl, the more viscous the bite. You weren’t acting on logic, you were acting out of fear. You were scared. He could smell the desperation to survive, the necessity to fight your way out. Your strikes had been cold and calculated, but every landed blow had a feeling of panic behind them. 

But you’d told him your past. Where the hell could this have come from? Was it simply an inherent part of your mutation?

Answers could wait as he took a cautious step towards you, his hands held out before him. “It’s okay, you’re okay…” he soothed, glancing back to see the strain on Jean lessen slightly. He looked back at you. “It’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt ya, you’re safe,” he continued, ignoring Jean’s call of protest. “It’s me, yeah? It’s Logan. ‘M not gonna hurt ya, firefly. Never gonna hurt ya…” he reached out slowly, his heart breaking as your breathing quickened, wide eyes flickering between his hand and his face. If Jean hadn’t been holding you, he had an awful feeling you would have flinched away. Although, if Jean hadn’t been holding you, he had no doubts he’d be on the ground slowly healing from whatever you’d have done. 

His palm gently cupped the side of your face and your breathing stopped altogether, void-like eyes staring endlessly into his, your brow creasing as if you were searching for something. He watched as you stopped struggling against Jean’s hold. “You’re alright, it’s just me. It’s just Logan…” You exhaled a breath, your eyes closing, visibly relaxing into his touch. 

“What the fuck happened?!” your eyes flew open again, your head snapping to the doorway where Scott, Xavier and Ororo had just appeared, Scott’s fingers braced against his glasses. You only managed to swing your arm a few inches, Jean catching you before your blade pierced Logan’s gut. He jumped back, though instinctively positioned himself between Scott’s line of sight and your frozen form.

“Damnit Scott, we had her!” he seethed, wanting nothing more than to knock him to the ground. If he wasn’t so trigger-happy with his eyes, Logan would have done. But the hand on his sunglasses had him staying put. 

“Charles I can’t hold her for much longer…” Jean strained, her hand shaking ever so slightly. Xavier placed two fingers against his temple, closing his eyes slowly. 

“Let her go, Jean…” he instructed, and the woman instantly fell to her knees, Scott crouching by her side, his arm around her shoulders, though his eyes never left you. Logan turned back to where you’d been released, your chest heaving, head twitching slightly as Xavier invaded your thoughts. Your eyes screwed shut, your hands flew to your head, Logan only just managing to catch your bladed wrist before you sliced your ear off. He grit his teeth against the pain of the edge carving through his palm, but he didn’t let go. He’d endure it. He’d endure fucking anything if it meant you’d be safe.

You whimpered as your legs gave out, crumpling into his hold as he gently lowered you to the floor. It was a terrifying display, your body contorting and writhing, your back arching as if you were possessed whilst Charles worked to set you free or bring you back or whatever the fuck he was doing.

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay. I promise you’re safe. ‘M gonna look after you, yeah? You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe…” he kept whispering over and over in the hopes that wherever you were, you could hear him. You could follow his voice. Holding you against his chest, he grazed his lips against your hair as you started to slow, hearing your heartbeat begin to settle. You still twitched slightly here and there, but you’d stopped writhing.

When you fell still completely, Logan had to shakily check your pulse just to make sure you were still alive. Finding the slight but steady beating beneath his fingertips, he raised his eyes to the rest of the team, irises glittering with murderous intent. “What the fuck was that?” he snarled, looking at each mutant individually. 

Ororo seemed the only one brave enough to step forward, Charles still occupied with your mind. “It… we saw this happen once before, around three years ago now. It was the night–”

“Jade died…” Logan finished, his features instantly softening as he looked back down at you, palm smoothing your hair from your face. “Why? Why does this happen?”

Charles removed his fingers from his temple, opening his eyes now you’d been placated. 

“We don’t know…” Jean exchanged a glance with the Professor as Storm continued. She crossed the room to kneel by your side, now knowing you were unconscious and no longer dangerous. “We think anger might be a trigger.”

“She wasn’t angry,” Logan countered, his eyes not leaving your face. “She was scared. I could smell it. She was fucking terrified like we were…” he trailed off, not wanting to voice what he was thinking. It was like you thought he was trying to hurt you. You fought back out of self-preservation. “I don’t understand… she’s told me about her upbringing. Her childhood, I didn’t-” he cut himself off as he took your hand, eyes widening as he noticed something he hadn’t before. How the fuck had he not noticed this before?

A thin, heavy scar ran down the length of your wrist, a centimetre wide and a few inches long. His breath caught in his throat as he rushed to check your other hand, finding a mirrored mark. Running his thumb down the scar, his eyes flickered to Ororo’s, who looked away.

“Guess she hadn’t got round to telling you that yet…” she said by way of explanation. His heart shattered. It had been a long time since Logan had cried, but he felt hot tears line his eyes. The thought of you being low enough to attempt to take your own life, the possibility of you succeeding and he never got to meet you. To know you. To love you.

He gathered you back into his arms and held you close, tucking your head beneath his chin. He wanted to apologise. To apologise for not being there for you. For not even knowing you. It was illogical and pointless, but he wanted to make up for not always being there for you. For only coming into your life now. 

“We should get her to the med bay,” Jean broke the silence, standing from where she was recovering on the floor, Scott’s arm still wrapped around her shoulder, steadying her. 

“I can’t be the only one thinking what we should actually do, and what we should have done years ago. She’s unstable, there’s kids here for fuck’s sake!” Cyclops exclaimed, gesturing to the floors above.

Logan felt his anger bubble to the surface. He didn’t need to be telepathic to know what Scott was talking about, and there was no way in hell he was about to stand by and let this motherfucker neutralise you. “Why don’tcha say it out loud, Scott,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “Let everyone know what ya thinkin’.”

“Logan take a breath, nothing’s going to happen to her,” Ororo placed a calming hand on his shoulder, though he was too riled up to care. “Right Scott?” she prompted, and Scott scoffed loudly.

“Yeah, right. Though, not that it shouldn’t.”

Logan snapped. Passing your body to Ororo, he leapt from the ground, claws bursting through his knuckles as he thundered towards Scott, who was taking his arm from around Jean to grip his sunglasses in retaliation.

“That’s enough!” Xavier’s voice cut through both the air and Logan’s mind, and taking a glance to the group, everyone else had heard it in their heads as well. He ground to a halt, eyes glaring bloody murder at Cyclops. “Now is not the time to fight amongst ourselves. Storm, take her to the med bay. Jean, I need you in my office please. And you two,” he looked pointedly between Logan and Scott. “Find somewhere far away from each other.”

“Fine by me.”

“Not a problem,” they spoke in unison before Logan turned back to where Ororo was holding you in her lap. “I got her, just lead the way,” he spoke curtly, stooping to effortlessly pick you up, holding you tight in his arms. Storm nodded as she stood, dusting her knees off before heading for the door. Logan took a minute to look down at you, drinking in your unconscious appearance. He felt a pang of fear for you echoing throughout his chest, brows pinching as his eyes frantically flickered across your face. 

“She’ll be okay Logan, just give her time,” Charles said gently, knowing to choose his words carefully. 

“We don’t got time.” Was all he said in return, before following Storm out the door and to the med bay.

Time was simply a concept. Nothing mattered. You’d found yourself sinking into your mind, taking a backseat in your own body. Floating in water but breathing wasn’t impossible. It was peaceful, tranquil, the same kind of feeling when you were nestled against Logan’s chest in an evening, or standing by his side and instructing him how to perfect a sear on a steak. 

Logan. Your chest surged as you thought of him, colours around you shifting and swirling from obsidian to the dark greens and browns you associated with his scent. Being around him. Content wore a new face, joy had a new feeling. Swirling colours became scenery as your bare feet touched grass. Wind kissed your cheeks as you looked around at the rolling hills surrounding, nothing but blue skies above you. Though you were confused, nothing could dampen your sense of ease. Pinewood and smoke wafted through the breeze and you turned but saw nothing. 

“Come back.”

You turned again, laughing as if he’d told a joke. It was his voice, unmistakably. You guessed he was just in a playful mood. Your toes dug into the ground as you spun around, laughter bubbling from your chest. 

“Where are you?” you called out, only your echoing voice answering from the hillside. The wind died down, birdsong quieting to nothing as you waited for his voice again. 

“Come back to me.”

You whirled again, your smile slowly fading as you once again were met with nothing. “Logan? C’mon, this isn’t funny anymore!” you called out, hoping he would finally stop the games and come out. You could feel panic start to rise as you heard nothing in response. You spun and twisted, only to be met with silence and emptiness, the ease of the countryside now morphing into anxious loneliness. “Logan…?” you called out again weakly, your hand crossing your front to hold your arm in an attempt to bring some kind of comfort. 

The next time you turned, your heart stopped and you stepped back. Seven humanoid shadows stood before you, their forms shifting like smoke. In unison, their heads cocked to the side. Like the shifting of emotions, the blue sky faded to grey, then to black. Angry, broiling storm clouds swirled overhead, and once again in unison, the shadows sank into the ground.

Fear gripped your heart as you tried to do the same, but found yourself unable to. You tried again, only to force yourself to your knees, the ground refusing to let you pass despite the darkness overhead. With a frustrated cry, you punched the earth with your fist, as if you were able to beat it into submission.

“Come back.” 

This time his voice provided no comfort as you hung your head, tears stinging your eyes and falling into the grass, blades shifting slightly. “I want to…” you responded shakily, despair clawing at your mind, having no idea how. But you had to. It didn’t matter how. You just had to.

Standing back to your feet, you took a deep breath. You could do this. You could find your way back. With newfound determination, you took a step forward.

Only to find, the moment your foot touched the ground, a hand crawled from the shadow, wrapping around your ankle. Once again panic clawed at your chest as you tried to yank yourself free, watching in horror as one of those seven shadows rose from the ground, its humanoid body contorted and backwards, head twitching from side to side. 

You tried to pull away. Tried to take a step back, only to find another holding your other foot, rising only far enough for its head and shoulders to reform from the ground. Another hand grabbed at your thigh, then another around your waist. You fought to free yourself, kicking and flailing as you felt the ground beneath you give way and you started to sink. A hand clawed down your back, another wrapped around your neck, silencing your desperate scream as your hand outstretched towards the dark sky above.

Your eyes went dark as those shadows gripped your face, obscuring your vision before all you could feel was nothing. You were nothing. And you were sinking. 

Down. Down down you were dragged, those inky black hands weighing you down like a ball and chain through water, only this time you couldn’t breathe. You tried to scream again only to find yourself voiceless, bubbles of emptiness rising from your mouth. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been drowning before light burst from above you and you inhaled a guttural breath, closing your eyes against the blinding white. When you managed to adjust to the light, you cracked open your lids, panic still flooding your veins. An operating theatre? No, it was too light. But judging from the instruments to your left, that’s exactly where you were. You tried to lift your head only to find coarse leather strapping you down. Trying to move your arms and legs resulted in the same conclusion. 

A whimper escaped from the other side of the room, and you turned your head, eyes widening as you saw your brother, clad in some kind of hospital gown, tears streaming down his face. “Rowan…?” you croaked, your throat raw from what, you didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered shakily, before agony flared through your body and you released a blood-curdling scream, fire reining free throughout your nerves, your limbs straining against the bonds holding you down.

‘We remember.’

Your eyes flew open as you sat bolt upright on the table, panic surging adrenaline through your system as you took in your surroundings. You were still there, in that room, just a different version of it. But you weren’t tied down, not this time. No, this time, you followed the wires hooking your body up to a monitor, the dips and valleys in the lines meaning nothing to you, only serving to fuel your fear.

You ripped the stickers from your body, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Whatever, or whoever was holding you clearly didn’t have the sense to leave you unattended. You might still be learning how to control your mutation, but that didn’t mean you weren’t dangerous.

Crossing to the drawers opposite, you tugged the top one open, rifling through the contents in the hopes of finding some kind of weapon. A scalpel, a knife, hell you’d take a staple gun at this moment. Anything that would help you escape this nightmare. You had to find Rowan. Why the fuck was he here? What the hell was going on? You brushed the questions to the side for now.

None of that mattered at the moment. Your sole goal was to find him and get the two of you out of here. 

A slight sing sliced through your fingertip as you rifled through the second drawer, pulling out a small scalpel. It wasn’t ideal, but you figured it was better than nothing. Clutching it tightly in your hands, you cursed medical rooms for their bright white lighting, only finding singular shadows beneath the bed and around the desks. Nothing connected, so you couldn’t travel far. 

You whirled at the slight whoosh of the doors behind you opening, holding the scalpel in front of you threateningly, attempting to still your trembling hand. Though it took your eyes a moment to register who you were looking at, you knew that voice and the way he softly called your name like the back of your hand.

Logan had only stepped out for a few moments, spending the last three days by your side, vigilant, unmoving. But upon the insistence of Jean, he’d taken seconds for himself to smoke a cigar and calm down. Every twitch of your body, every micromovement he noticed, every small cry of his name set him on edge, fighting the urge to pull the medical tags from your body and keep you safe up in his room, build a home for you there. He’d resisted purely because both Jean and Charles had said it was safer to monitor your brain and heart.

But now here you were, eyes wide, pointing a scalpel at him. He held his hands up, trying to show you he didn’t mean any harm. “It’s me…” he soothed as you looked around wildly as if trying to recognise your surroundings.

How was he here? Why was he here? Had they got him too? But he looked fine, dressed in his usual white singlet, worn jeans and brown flannel. “Logan?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, taking a slow step towards you. “Yeah,” he confirmed, noticing how you were still caught up in confusion and fear.

“Wh– where am I? Where are we?” you asked frantically, still keeping the small blade pointed towards him as he inched closer around the bed.

“We’re in the med bay, underneath the school. ‘S’okay, you’re safe here.” he explained slowly, gingerly reaching for the knife in your hand, his fingers wrapping around the warm metal as he gently took it from your grasp and set it down. 

You let him take it from you, your heart settling in your chest as he encircled your wrist. “The school?” you asked, uncertainty lacing your tone. Logan nodded in confirmation, and you let loose a steadying breath. “What happened?” your voice was barely audible, shaking slightly as he guided you into his arms and enveloped you in a sense of security.

“You’re okay…” he breathed, not only to reassure you but to also reassure himself. For three days he’d sat by your bedside, listening to people tell him you were gonna be okay, but it was so fucking hard to believe them when you were lying unconscious on a medical bed, the only sound being the steady beep of the heart monitor you were hooked up to. 

Seeing you here, on your feet, awake, set that fear to rest. He set his chin atop your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in, your scent wrapping around his heart in a comforting embrace. You were safe. You were okay.

You allowed yourself to simply feel him, basking in his presence and the peace he brought you. Your arms slowly wrapped around his body beneath his shirt, clasping tightly at the back of his singlet. “I don’t understand…”

“I know. Neither do we, not fully. But we will, ‘kay? Promise,” he hoped it was enough to reassure you, but it was barely enough to reassure himself. “What d’you remember?” he asked pulling back slightly to cup a hand against your jaw, angling your face to look up at him. 

You swallowed, brow furrowing as you tried to think back to the last thing you remember. “Training. We were training. You said we weren’t gonna focus on my mutation, and you challenged me to get out of your grip… that’s it,” you explained quietly, your eyes flickering between his own in search of some kind of answer. “That’s what happened with Jade, isn’t it? It was the same thing…” Logan nodded again, though almost imperceptibly as if he was afraid to confirm your own fears. “What happened?” you asked again, though this time a little firmer.

Logan took a breath, bracing himself for your reaction before he’d even spoken. “You tried to kill me…”

You instantly stepped out of his arms, and as much as he didn’t want to, he let you. Horror flickered across your face as you looked down at your hands as if you could see the blood staining them. You couldn’t do this again. You couldn’t kill someone else you loved because you couldn’t control yourself. “It wasn’t your fault, I pushed you too hard. I didn’t know this w–”

“Don’t.” you stopped him quietly, eyes staring, unblinking, at the white tiles beneath your bare feet. “Please don’t…” you inhaled shakily, balling your hands into fists by your side. “Scott was right.”

Logan froze, knowing exactly what you were referring to. He guessed what he suggested three days ago wasn’t the first time he’d said it. “The fuck he was. You lost control, that doesn’t make you a monster. Y’think half the kids here were monsters before they learnt how to control their mutations?”

“Half the kids here don’t try to kill the people they fucking care about!” you cried, feeling like he just wasn’t listening to you. 

“No, they just do it by accident. Remind you of anyone?” He didn’t know how else to get you to see. You were no different from those who just hadn’t learnt to control it yet. “Why is it always so different when it comes to you, hm?” he took your hands in his own, begging you to understand. 

“I don’t wanna kill you, Logan. I don’t know what I'd do if I did…” you looked up, tears silently sliding from your eyes. But Logan simply smiled.

“Then ain’t it peachy I can’t die. Hundred ‘n’ thirty still going strong,” he thumbed away the tears from your cheeks as you blinked in realisation. “Forgot that, didn’t ya?” 

“Yeah… guess I did.” you tried to smile, but Logan could tell you were still burdened by guilt and grief. Planting a kiss on your forehead, he guided you back to the centre of his chest, wrapping you up again. 

“We’ll figure it out, yeah? Whatever this thing is, we’ll figure it out. Charles can help you,” he promised, his hand stroking through the back of your hair. “And fuck Scott, he doesn’t know what he’s fucking talking about.” That earned him a teary chuckle against the crook of his neck.

“Fuck Scott,” You repeated, nestling closer into his embrace. “Thank you, Lo’.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he responded, pressing his nose against the top of your head, breathing in your distinct scent. “The good news is, you harnessed your mutation flawlessly.” 

You looked up at him with slight awe, your mouth parted slightly. “Seriously?”

Logan nodded. “I almost brought ya back as well, so I’m thinkin’ we should–”

“Don’t even say it,” you interrupted, your chin resting against his chest. “Not a good idea.”

“Might be the only way,” he shrugged, delicately moving a strand of your hair from your face. “Think it over.” He prompted softly, his hand travelling from your jaw to your cheek, eyes lingering on your lips for a beat before he dipped down, capturing you in a soft kiss. Your lids fluttered closed, arms sliding from his back up to his neck, your fingers finding a home in his soft hair. 

You groaned softly as his hands left your face to occupy your waist, lingering long enough to squeeze you gently before descending lower to your thighs and hoisting you against him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, ankles crossed against the dip of his back. 

Logan swallowed your gasp as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, and he couldn’t tame his low growl of approval when you opened your mouth for him, your nails scratching lightly through his hair and tugging against the soft strands in a way that had his closed eyes rolling skyward. Carrying you back to the steel table, he set you down, his lips never detaching from yours even as your back touched the steel. Your ankles stayed crossed at his tailbone, and the way you arched your hips into his growing arousal had him groaning your name against your lips.

The sweet scent of your slick drove him fucking wild, and he knew he had to stop himself before he fucked you here and now on this godforsaken table. He drew back from you, jaw falling open as you dug your nails into his shoulders. Fuck you looked so good, a passionate flush dusted your cheeks, your lips slightly reddened from his mouth. He panted against you, attempting to catch his breath. “We can’t, n–”

“Not here, right?” you finished, frustrated irritation lacing your tone. “Then where, Lo’? Because so far, it hasn’t been anywhere.” You finished, sitting up as he pulled away from your legs. “What’re you so afraid of?” It was your turn to gently pry, hoping to gain insight as to why he always stopped just when things were getting good. 

He looked away from you, tensing his jaw against your question. “‘M not afraid…” 

“That’s a lie.”

His eyes shot back to look at you, recalling the last time he called you out. He’d used that same phrase, that same no-bullshit tone. Logan debated shooting back at you the same way you did back then, but at the same time, he wasn’t that petty. He could be petty, sure, but not that petty.

He ran a hand down the side of his face, taking a deep breath. He heard you shift on the table, your hand gently pulling his palm down. “I’m not made of glass, I won’t shatter.”

But that’s exactly what he was afraid of. “I– I’m good at controlling my instincts most of the time… but when I feel you like that… when I can smell how you react to me, it gets so much more difficult. I’m so afraid of hurting you,” he confessed, and you silently pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Logan. Was your plan to just, not have sex this whole relationship?” you asked softly, watching as he processed the wording of your question. 

“Well, no but, is that what this is…?” he asked slowly, and you raised a brow.

“I wouldn’t exactly call us friends, Lo’, but I guessed we never really discussed it…” you mused, not a single worry on your mind. You were what you were, labels didn’t really matter to you, and you had a feeling they didn’t matter to him either. 

“Hate the title of boyfriend,” He wrinkled his nose and you snorted a laugh. “Makes me sound like some inexperienced kid.”

“How would I know how experienced you are, you refuse to have sex with me. Maybe it’s appropriate.” You teased, and Logan shot you a dark look full of even darker promises. “I’m not too bothered either way, to be honest. We don’t have to put a label on things. We’re just…”

“Together.” He finished, his dark glare softening at the words he uttered and how right they felt. 

“Exactly. And you’re not the only one who can heal, remember?” You flashed him a grin now it was his turn to blink. “Now look who’s forgetting things.” He returned your smile before pulling you in for another lingering kiss, both his hands braced against the soft skin of your waist. He hadn’t forgotten about the scars on your wrists, nor the way you’d cried for him in your unconscious state, but he’d save those questions for later, for when you weren’t in the med bay still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing three days ago.

Not that he minded. You smelt irresistible. 

Footsteps echoed in his ears from behind the door, and he separated from you. He glanced to the door in response to your look of confusion just as the two halves separated and Jean strode through, stopping immediately upon seeing you.

“You’re awake! How’re you feeling?” she asked, setting down her mug of coffee on the desk before crossing to the flatlined heart monitor and switching it off, the screen going dark.

“Physically or mentally?” you asked, a little sarcastically, and Logan had to pretend he was extremely interested in the screens around Jean’s desk, covering his mouth with his palm to hide his smile.

“You were out for three days, it’s only natural for me to ask.” She responded flatly, shooting Logan a pointed look which he chose to ignore.

“I’m fine. Weirded out and I wanna know why this keeps happening, but I’m fine.” You shrugged, wanting nothing more than to head up to your room, shower until you burn off all of your skin, and fall into bed. Preferably with Logan by your side, but you’d take what you could get with that whole situation. 

Jean shifted on her feet, busying herself with the monitor, and Logan picked up the distinct scent of discomfort. “The Professor’s working on it, for now, he wants you to rest, maybe take a break from training and teaching, too.”

You scoffed, standing up from the table. “He gonna send me away for another two years, yeah? Keep the big bad wolf away from the children? Just in case I go ape-shit again and commit mass murder. Seems like a sound plan, worked last time, didn’t it? Oh, except it didn’t, because I’ve only been back two months and the same fucking thing happened. Only this time we got lucky because Claws over here can’t fucking die” You spat, annunciating every fucking syllable. 

Logan shifted his gaze to you, giving you a look as if to ask why he was being dragged into this. You responded with something he could only interpret as apologetic. Good enough.

“It wasn’t like that–”

“It was and you know it, don’t you?” Logan chimed in, suddenly feeling the need to rush to your defence. You’d already been through enough today, you didn’t need to be gaslit to be added to the pile. “Just like you know more about what’s going on here, right?” He raised a brow, coming to stand by your side, an arm braced against your shoulder. 

Whatever Logan had noticed, you trusted his instincts, staying silent as Jean straightened, her gaze steely. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Logan,” she responded plainly, before turning to you. “And since you seem well enough to wander around and rifle through my equipment, I’d say you’re well enough to head out.” It was as rude as Jean was ever going to get without being unprofessional and telling you to get the fuck out. 

You raised your head, narrowing your eyes in challenge, before deciding that maybe scrapping so soon after you woke up was a bad idea. So instead you turned on your heel, striding out the door with your dignity and without leaking blood. 

Logan fell into step beside you, his palm resting at the small of your back. “Ya know, she could barely contain you when you went all… freaky. You’re strong as shit.” He smirked down at you, and your eyes widened along with your smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You both entered the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. “Fuckin’ A.” You grinned, and if he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t think he’d ever been more proud of you.

“I’ll be below so if you need anythin’, just shout, I’ll hear ya,” Logan instructed so sincerely your heart skipped a beat. After insisting he made you a rudimentary evening snack of grilled cheese, he’d escorted you up the stairs and into your room and was now looking into your eyes with such seriousness it made you laugh a little.

“Logan, I’m taking a shower, not heading into the Colosseum. Though, you’d know all about that, right? What were the Romans like?” you asked, feigning innocence when he rolled his eyes. “What? I’m curious.”

“Glad ya feelin’ better, freak.” He flicked your forehead and you chuckled, not bothering to swipe his hand away. “If you need anything–”

“Howl at the moon three times and spin in a circle yeah Logan I get it. Now clear off so I can shower, I smell like a dead horse.” You shooed him away, but he caught both your hands in one of his own, his bare arms flexing as he pulled you closer so he could lean into your ear.

“You smell fucking delicious,” he growled and your knees almost buckled. Fuck, how could he do that with one small phrase? “But I’ll let ya go, see you later.” He pecked a kiss to your lips, brows raising in surprise when you leaned into him in a much more passionate display before you pulled away far too quickly for his liking.

“See you in a bit!” you beamed, before heading into your ensuite and shutting the door, leaving him standing breathless in the middle of your room. 

You were gonna be the fucking death of him. If he could die, that is.

To say your shower was refreshing was an understatement. Scalding water seared your skin slightly, leaving behind delicious tingles of cleanliness as you scrubbed the last three days of unconsciousness from your skin, using the wild bluebell shower gel Ororo had gifted you for Christmas last year. It was definitely one of your favourite scents –other than pinewood, smoke and whiskey, obviously– but it was the gel you used the least out of fear of running out of it. You lathered your skin, shivering slightly as you remembered the way Logan was holding you earlier. The way his fingers dug into your thighs, the way he squeezed your waist. 

You had to shake yourself back to reality before you used all the water in the goddamn mansion. Quickly rinsing yourself, you switched off the shower and snatched the towel hanging from the hook on the back of the door and opened the window to let out some of the steam. Drying yourself off, you vaguely hoped your plants would forgive you for neglecting them for three days, though a delusional part of you said they’d understand.

Maybe you were losing your mind. 

You finished up moisturising your face, rubbing in the last bits of cream and securing your towel around your chest before opening the door to your room, steam rolling from the bathroom and onto your sad-looking tropical plants, who you swore instantly perked up. 

“Yeah yeah, no need to be so dramatic Herbert, I’m sure you can survive three days without me.” You said to your Herringbone Plant. You found that naming them and giving them all personalities helped with the development and growth… or so you told yourself. 

You crossed to your built-in wardrobe, pausing as you saw an incredibly familiar flannel on your window seat. You had a vague recollection of Logan setting it down when he took a seat there, the two of you talking for a minute of thirty before you finally remembered you needed a shower. 

Considering how little he seemed to talk to the rest of the teachers here, it served to make you feel pretty damn special the way he would talk for hours with you. You smiled thinking about it, picking up the shirt and feeling the material beneath your fingers. It still smelt like him, and your smile widened further.

There was a quick knock at your door, and you barely had time to welcome whoever it was before it opened. “Sorry, forgot my– fuck.”

Logan stood in your doorway, his eyes shamelessly looking you up and down, from your heat-flushed collar to the tops of your thighs where your towel cut off, down to your feet before trailing back up. “Fuck…” he repeated, and your breath quickened just like that.

Maybe he could die. Because there was no possible way he’d just survived looking at you this way. You looked edible, for fuck’s sake, and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the side of your neck and listen to you whimper beneath him. He closed his eyes against the images plaguing his mind, hoping to hell neither Charles nor Jean were prowling around the mansion’s minds.

“Looking for this?” you asked, your tone laced with faux innocence as you held up his shirt. “Shame, I was just about to see how good it looked on me.” You pouted, and Logan closed the door with the back of his foot in response.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His eyes were dark, pupils blown with lust as he watched you thread your arms through the sleeves that were much too big for you. 

Oh, you were having too much fun with this game, making sure the flannel covered your ass as you turned away from him, letting the towel fall from around your chest to pool at your feet. You grinned wildly at his audible groan as you started feeding the buttons through their respective holes, stopping just low enough that your nipples were covered, but not much else.

You took a step back, glancing at your appearance in your floor-length mirror on the opposite side of your room. “Think it suits me, personally,” you turned, placing a hand on your waist, accentuating just how baggy his clothes were on you. “Don’t you?”

Logan’s chest heaved at the sight of you in his clothes. His clothes. Your hips swayed as you sauntered towards him, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and tugging him closer. His breath hitched as you traced your fingertips across his naval, only briefly dipping below the waist of his jeans, untucking the white singlet he was wearing. “Cat got your tongue?” your voice was as softly teasing as your fingers, his entire body shivering as your hands skirted beneath the white fabric, your palm cooler against his heated skin.

“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart.” He grit as you thumbed the thick vein pulsing just inside his hip bone. That sweet scent of your arousal hit him like a truck as you leaned up to his ear, biting softly at the sensitive skin just beneath. 

“Then ain’t it just peachy I can heal?” you used his phrasing from before, and it was Logan’s undoing. Ducking back, he crashed his lips onto yours, your mouth eagerly parting to allow his thick tongue to dance with yours. He wrenched your hands from his front, throwing them around his neck as he lifted you from the floor in exactly the same way he did not an hour ago. 

Though this time you moaned freely as your core pushed against the steadily growing steel in his jeans. He bucked his hips in response, growling as you both all but fell onto the bed, your hands tightening their rough grip in his hair. He let his eyes roll as he nipped the supple flesh of your lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your chin, over your jaw and into your neck. His tongue smoothing the sharp bites he left against your skin.

“Logan…” you breathed his name when he found the scar on the side of your neck, your hands clawing at his shoulders when he sucked a small bruise against the mark. You gasped, tilting your head up to provide him with easier access.

His hands had been trailing up and down your sides, venturing beneath his shirt, feeling your bare skin against his palm. Your chest inflated as he teased the underside of your breasts with his fingers, and he nipped against that spot on your neck at the same time as encasing your breasts in his hands. You whimpered beneath him and it was everything he’d dreamed of, and so much more. 

“Fuck, sweetheart you’re killin’ me.” He groaned as you wrapped your legs around his waist again, pulling his clothed cock closer to your core. His hands squeezed and groped at the soft skin of your chest, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to hear you gasp again.

He could tell you were getting impatient, your hands trailing down his back to the hem of his singlet, pulling it up to his shoulders. He drew back from you briefly, sitting on his heels and pulling the top over his head. You swore you drooled.

“Holy shit Lo’, you’ve been keepin’ this from me?” You followed him up, your legs still wrapped around his hips as your hands found the muscles of his abs, drinking in every valley, plain and peak of his physique. Your fingers grazed up through the hair dusting his chest, bracing against the hard plateaus of his pecs. “Fuck me…” you breathed in disbelief, and Logan responded with a wild smirk.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” he trailed off, hands cupping the sides of your neck as he brought you in for another searing kiss. Logan gently pushed you back down on the bed, swallowing your low moans of need. His fingers deftly plucked at the buttons of his shirt, exposing more of your body for his hands to feast on. He pulled back again to shove the material off your shoulders, dragging it from beneath you to discard on the floor. “Gorgeous.” He uttered under his breath.

You were completely bare before him, and his eyes locked onto every perfect imperfection on your body, from the various scars on your chest and stomach to the small dents left behind by his own fingertips. You panted softly, placing a foot against his shoulder just as he went to lean back down and hold your lips hostage once again.

“Even this up, Howlett.” You breathed, and Logan turned his head to nip your ankle sharply. Though before he could even think about loosening his belt, you’d already surged forward, your hands flying to the buckle at his waist, your head ducking into the crook of his neck you so often liked to nestle into. Only this time you bit savagely, earning yourself a surprise, husky groan. 

There was a soft clink of metal as you pulled at the leather around his waist, placing it within arm’s reach. Just in case, you told yourself as you licked at the slight salt of his clavicle. You popped the button of his jeans, careful to pull down the zipper before shoving the rough fabric down below his hips. Logan tugged them the rest of the way, shoving them somewhere with the rest of the discarded clothes. 

You fell back against the pillows of your bed, unable to stop yourself from biting your lip as you devoured the sight of his tented briefs, his heaving chest and dark eyes. Crawling back over your sprawled form, Logan dipped back to your neck, ghosting his lips down across your collarbones, his tongue lavishing the dip between the bone and your throat, before descending further between your breasts. 

He nipped at the soft flesh, his mouth fluttering from left to right as if he couldn’t pick which one he wanted to devour. Your back arched in desperation, pushing your pebbled nipples further into his face before he sucked one into his mouth, teething slightly the sensitive skin. You gasped his name, your nails returning to his sinewy shoulders as pleasure coursed through your veins, one of your hands reaching up to grip the headboard behind you. Fuck he was good at this, switching between sucking softly and nipping sharply, before releasing your breath with a gentle pop, only to devour the other. 

Your hips bucked against his abdomen and he moaned against you, grinding his desperate cock against the soft fabric of your duvet. He wanted to taste you first, wanted to feel you on his tongue before he even thought about fucking you. His hands replaced his mouth on your breasts as he travelled further down your body, biting and sucking every scar he came across before he was nestled sweetly between your thighs, drowning in the sickly sweet scent of your dripping arousal glistening between your thighs, the coarse, dark hair around your cunt now completely damp.

Anticipation set your nerves alight as you waited for him to do something, anything. And you threw your head back when his lips settled on your inner thigh, finding yet another scar for his tongue and teeth to explore. You whined softly, needily when he skipped your pussy completely, moving to the other side and leaving a mess of bruises for you to inspect later. 

“Fuck Logan, do something!” You managed to grit, feeling his huffed laughter fan your aching cunt. 

“I am doing somethin’ baby. Wanna be more specific?” he teased lightly, fingers tracing circles against your outer thigh. You bucked your hips towards his face, grinding into thin air. You called to him like a siren calls to a lost sailor, and he was all too happy to fall into the ocean for you as long as he was allowed to stay here for the rest of his long life. 

“Fuck me with your tongue goddamnit!” you spat impatiently, and he grinned victoriously. His grip tightened against your thighs as he dragged you down and onto his face, his lips instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

You pitched back, spine arching as you pinched your lips together to stop yourself from crying out. Bolts of electric pleasure struck each and every nerve, setting you on fire as you writhed beneath his tongue, your hands darting to his hair, dragging him to where you needed him most.

Logan’s deep groan reverberated against your throbbing pearl, adding another layer to your ecstasy, and you barely managed to make a mental note that he liked his hair pulled before you were drowning in honey-laced lightning once again. 

You tasted better than he could ever imagine, and he’d imagined this a lot in the last two months. Your slick like morning dew on his tongue, he ate you out as if he were starved. He guessed he was, in a way. Starved of having you like this, a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. It fucked with his head, the way you sounded so submissive and yet the grip in his hair was anything but. His cock throbbed with each tug, tip leaking copiously as one of his hands shifted from the outside of your thigh to inside, teasing your throbbing entrance with his fingertips. 

Your mouth hung open as he slowly inserted a thick finger, your walls clamping down as if he would try to escape. Logan latched onto your clit once again, sucking along with every pulse of his wrist, the pad of his fingertip massaging that delicious bundle of nerves hidden inside your cunt. 

Back arching, chest heaving, you held his head exactly there, not letting him move as you could feel those knots tighten and tense, the thread of your arousal building to snap into a mind-blowing orgasm. Your hips undulated in time to the pumps of his finger and the sucks of your clit, riding his face with each pulse of hot pleasure.

You couldn’t stop your pitched whine as he slowly inserted a second finger into your tight cunt, curling them against your liquid heat. You gasped his name to the sky above, managing to crack your eyes open and look down to where he’d made a home between your thighs. 

Sensing your gaze on him, Logan raised his eyes to yours. Your pinched brows, flush face, and gaping mouth were all the encouragement he needed to tongue-fuck you with renewed vigour, lapping at your leaking essence with reckless abandon.

“Fuck! F–fuck, Logan… ‘m gonna cum. G’gonna– gonna make me cum!” you warned, and he responded with nothing but a dark, sadistic smirk as he ground his fingers against that spot that made you see stars.

With another, long suck of your clit, you came undone, the wire finally snapping as you barrelled into your orgasm. Your hands clawed at the sheets by your head, your back arched off the bed with a soft cry of his name. Logan held you fast against his face, eliciting a deep moan, loudly slurping your release like it would in any way satiate his thirst for you. But it only served as an aphrodisiac for his own neglected desires. 

Shadows trembled around the room as you panted with each wave of ecstasy, your hips bucking with no rhyme or reason against his face until the pleasure became a little too much, a little too intense, and you had to tug him away by his hair, gasping as you were met with resistance before he acquiesced.  

You felt like you were floating, basking in the cloud-like afterglow of your high, only to be brought back by Logan’s hand cupping your face, guiding you to look at him and his smug smirk.

“Still with me?” he asked cockily, and you didn’t have the mind to do anything but nod and laugh lightly.

“Yeah, just about. I take it back… You’re definitely experienced…” you breathed and he hummed a chuckle against your cheek. 

“Been around for a while, you learn a thing or two,” he grinned before his jaw went slack with a silent moan. He hadn’t noticed your hand move from beside your head, only realising when you palmed his steel cock through his briefs. You gently pushed his shoulder until he rolled onto his back, swinging your leg over his waist to seat yourself atop his aching heat, rolling your hips slightly and watching as his head fell back, neck exposed for you.

Leaning down, you licked a long stripe up his throat and along the rough stubble beneath his bearded jaw, pinching his ear between your teeth. You tugged slightly, and his hands braced against your waist, guiding you to continue your movements with your hips. You wanted to take your time with him the same way he did with you, but your desperation to feel him inside of you outweighed your yearning to both hear and taste him cum on your tongue. 

Sitting back on your heels, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs, dragging them down over his muscular thighs, smirking slightly as his cock sprang back to lightly slap against his naval. He was fucking delectable, flushed tip leaking clear slick, veins pulsing down either side of his shaft. You pushed down the want to trace them with your tongue as you shoved his fabric past his knees. 

Logan kicked off his briefs a little too eagerly, and if he wasn’t so drunk off arousal, he would check his behaviour. But the truth was, he didn’t care. Not in this moment. Not when you scooted back a little to take his member in your hands, slowly sliding your palms up and down. 

“Shit darlin’, like that. Fuck, just like that…” he groaned lowly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you circled his tip with the centre of your palm. His hips bucked into your grip as you alternated your hands, using a corkscrew motion that had him squeezing his eyes shut, every sense consumed by the pleasure you were giving him. 

You thumbed down one of those pulsing veins and watched as he inhaled sharply, bearing his teeth in a silent, heated snarl. Biting your lip, you rose on your knees, leaning forwards before sinking onto his cock. 

Your back arched as he filled you, stretching your needy cunt deliciously. A long, low moan rose from the depths of Logan’s chest as you seated yourself fully, your cunt pulsing rhythmically around his sensitive heat. Taking a moment to adjust to the feeling, your nails sank into the muscles of his chest, slowly clawing down to his naval and watching as his brows pinched in desperation.

If you were feeling a little meaner, you’d have made him wait. But you’d both waited long enough, so you languidly rolled your hips, mouth falling open as his tip grazed the spot his fingers had been massaging not moments ago. “Logan…” you uttered breathlessly, falling into a steady tempo. 

The shadows of the room quivered and shifted along with your movements, and you felt an itch along your back up to your shoulder blades. Logan cracked his eyes open, watching as the darkness around the room morphed into those same two, broad wings he’d seen that first time your mutation flared. However, nothing was threatening about the sight. If anything, seeing the way they flexed and fluttered as you picked up your pace filled him with a sense of wonder. Fuck you were so fucking beautiful.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, fighting with his instincts to pound up into you in favour of savouring the way your hips ground against him, your cunt squeezing him in a vice grip, obsidian wings extending towards the edges of your room. Rising into a sit, you whimpered softly with the slight jostle, before downright crying out as his fingers grazed the shadowy membrane. 

You panted into his parted lips, barely able to form a thought other than how fucking good he felt inside you as you bounced on his cock, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clawing red hot lines down the thick muscles of his back. Logan growled in your ear, no longer able to resist the urge to fuck up into your molten ecstasy.

“You’re so fuckin’ good sweetheart. Feel so fuckin’ good.” he groaned, moving his hand from your wind to your waist, encouraging your movements. He could tell you were close, your thighs shaking slightly both with the effort and the pleasure, your pitched whimpers fanning his neck as you buried your head, nipping and biting in the space where his shoulder met his throat. 

“‘M so fucking close… fuck ‘m so close!” you gaped, nails still scratching down his back, earning yourself yet another delicious growl. Logan bucked his hips, pulling your head back from his neck by your hair to look him in the eye. He wanted to watch. Craved the sight of you losing control on his cock, because of his cock. The hand on your waist skirted down between your thighs, fingers expertly playing with your clit as you crested your high.

Head thrown back, spine arched, you exploded in euphoria, pleasure coursing through your body like a tidal wave, crashing on the shore. Your wings flared in either direction, shaking as he continued to grind his tip deep inside you, rubbing your swollen, sensitive pearl ruthlessly. Breathing came second to feeling, unable to inhale as you all but seized up completely, your muscles trembling along with every wave of your orgasm. 

Logan panted against the hollow of your throat, all and any self-control quickly dissolving as he recklessly flipped you both over, your clock and lamp clattering to the floor as the tips of your void-like wings swept beneath you, his hands gripping the pillow beside your head.

Seeing you cum on him like that, feeling your walls tightened and quiver, Logan lost every semblance of self-control he was clinging to. Sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your neck, he pounded into you relentlessly. Pure, unadulterated pleasure spiked through his system as you whimpered and whined beneath him, your nails clutching his shoulders, breaking the skin and clinging on. 

“Fuckin’ perfect for me. Shit darlin’, squeezing me so good.” He snarled before his teeth returned to the dents he’d made against your neck. He tasted iron as he bit down and you cried out in pain-addled pleasure, dragging your sharp nails from his shoulders, down either side of his spine, to the dip in his back. Your ankles locked around his waist, and it was his undoing. 

Logan’s hips stuttered as he utterly lost control, his staggered groan muffled by the skin of your neck, eyes screwed so tight he saw stars. His fingers gripped the fabric on either side of your head, razor-sharp claws ripping through the threads and sinking into the headboard as he hit his climax, bucking with each spasm of ecstasy flooding his veins. His cock reached new depths as he filled you so completely, anchoring deep within your cunt. Muscles flexing and contracting, he rode out his orgasm as your tight walls milked him for all he was worth, before he almost collapsed into you, his chest heaving.

He struggled to recall a time when he’d cum so fucking hard, his ears almost ringing as those sharp bolts of pleasure started to recede and he pulled his teeth from your neck, tongue swiping up the small trickles of blood he’d drawn. 

Were you still alive? Honestly, you couldn’t tell, feeling so weightless you were sure your soul had left your body. You only knew you were still clutching to the mortal coil because of the satisfying scratch in your shoulder blades as those shadows returned to the room, leaving you with just your corporeal body. 

Logan rose on his arms, his claws retracting into his knuckles as he looked down at you, and you looked up at him, both speechless. Why the fuck had the two of you waited so long to do that. Your brows pinched as he pulled out of you, his hand cupping the side of your face. Since neither of you could form words, he encouraged you to speak through your lips, moulding his own against your mouth.

And you poured every ounce of your adoration into him, arms circling his shoulders, holding him close. You could feel his grin growing before he drew back from you, sweat sliding down his brow.

You responded by mirroring his smile, laughter bubbling from your chest. “Holy shit…” you manage to breathe as he rolled off you, drawing you into his tight embrace. 

He inhaled deeply, basking in the scent of flowers, iron, sweat and sex. “Yeah…” was all he could say, still finding himself reeling a little. “Sorry ‘bout your neck. And your pillows. And headboard… and lamp……” he paused sheepishly. “And the clock.”

You giggled madly as he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him and using you almost as a blanket. You folded your arms across his chest, Bracing your chin atop the backs of your hands and gazed up at him whilst he got comfortable, an arm propped up behind his head. “Please, I think a clock and lamp are worth possibly the best sex I’ve had in my life.” You smirked, bending your legs at the knee for your heels to rest at your tailbone. 

“Yeah? Better than the infamous Shots Shack bin shed?” he teased, cocking a brow.

“Know your limits, Howlett,” You bit back, to his deep chuckle of amusement. Letting the silence settle for a moment, you allowed yourself to reflect on what had just transpired, blinking in realisation as you remembered. “Did… did I pull the shadows…?” you asked slowly, and Logan’s smile widened to a toothy grin.

“Yep. Now that I think about it… this might be a good way to train.” You smacked his chest, your face a picture of faux scandal. 

“Logan Howlett, are you suggesting we have sex every time we train?” You asked in mock offence, unable to keep your façade as he genuinely debated it for a moment. “Not sure Charles would be too pleased. Or Scott, for that matter.”

“I’m sure they’d get over it,” he responded and you snorted a laugh, rising from his chest to sit at his side, stretching your sore arms and back. Your neck throbbed a little, but honestly, you didn’t mind, it served as a reminder of the pleasure you’d just shared. It was the best kind of pain. 

The idea of showering now filled you with dread. You couldn’t be fucking bothered, realistically. Besides, Logan seemed to like it when you smelt like a dead horse earlier. Settling on your decision, you tugged at the duvet beneath you both, clambering beneath the soft blanket and snuggling into his side, an arm slung across his front, ear pressed against the beat of his heart.

A fond smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at you nestled against his chest, your deep sigh fanning his pecs. It had been far too long since he’d felt peace like this. Far too long since he’d felt this kind of comfort, it almost made his eyes water, only now recognising how fucking lonely he’s felt. 

Sinking back into the pillows, Logan’s arms wrapped around your tired form, holding you close. God fucking help anything or anyone that dares try and take this away from him. He’d lost too much, and though he was terrified of losing you too, it only solidified that he’d fight claw, tooth and nail to keep you safe.

Your breathing steadied as you succumbed to the exhaustion and slow, soothing swipes of Logan’s thumb against your waist. It would take a while for him to fall asleep, and he wished he’d had the foresight to bring a cigar with him when he came to retrieve his flannel. But just like you with your shower, the idea of even leaving the bed wasn’t even worth entertaining, let alone the idea of leaving you.

So instead he simply lay with you, listening to the sound of your breathing and the beat your your heart, until sleep knocked at the door of his mind, and he closed his eyes.

Only to snap awake mere hours later. What the time was, he had no idea, your clock at been knocked to the ground in the tryst. You’d both shifted in your sleep and whilst your head was still buried in his chest, he’d turned to face you. 

Logan’s eyes blinked against the darkness, adjusting rapidly to the severe lack of light. Something was off. He could sense it. 

Silently, his claws fed through his knuckles, instinctively moving his hands from your body as he slowly raised his head.

And froze solid.

Seven humanoid figures draped in smoking shadow stood around the bed, heads cocked to the same side as if their necks had been snapped. His pulse quickened, adrenaline pumping through his veins, fight or flight response triggered.

Although, there was never much flight involved when it came to Logan. He didn’t move, not out of fear, but to not provoke anything. They stood unnaturally still, simply watching with eyeless faces. You shifted in your sleep, and Logan spared a glance at your vulnerable state, his protective instincts flaring wildly at this unknown threat. 

Simultaneously, they all began to sink into the floor, and Logan watched with subdued horror as their bodies faded into the darkness as you stirred awake.

“Lo’? You ‘kay?” you asked groggily, your eyes heavy with sleep. 

He nodded. “Fine. Heard something ‘s’all.” He lied, though making a promise to tell you the truth once the sun had risen. “Probably just one of the kids. Go back to sleep,” he smoothed your hair from your face as he settled back next to you, wrapping you up safely in his arms. You breathed deeply, murmuring something even he couldn’t comprehend before you were dragged once again back to sleep.

Logan stayed awake until long into the small hours of the morning, watching the room with vigilance, glancing it at you with each slight sound you made in your sleep. But whatever those things were, they didn’t return that night. 

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 5

And here we arrive at the second post today. I'm just trying to move through my backlog so that I'm down to my preferred three ahead. Glitters is at the rut, so only a chapter or two left to write, so that's almost done. Soulmates is to filling the gaps in the "In Media Res" scene and is nearing its end, too. Which means with any luck, I'll be down to just three WIP at the end of the month: Moonlight, Boy w/a Bat, and this one.

In this chapter, we have Eddie being a menace and giving Steve and Robin the fright of their lives. And because my Steddie never take anything slow, they kiss about it.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

The last spot on The Fallen’s American tour was Pasadena just to flip Dustin’s shit now that he was in Hawkin’s, Eddie was sure.

Eddie bought nose bleed seats because he didn’t want to throw Steve off of his playing. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass him and take the spotlight off their music.

He tucked his signature locks under a hat, removed his face piercings, and made sure all his tattoos were covered. He wore an Abbadon hoodie over his regular clothes and got into place in his seat.

He watched the whole show with great enthusiasm, banging along to his favorite songs.

Eddie was most of the way through the show when the twelve year old boy next to him clocked him for who he really is.

He put his finger up to his lips and winked. The boy nodded solemnly and he turned back to spectacle in front of them, like he hadn’t seen the frontman for the biggest metal band in the world sitting in the nose bleed seats for The Fallen.

Eddie lucked out on that one. Boys that age were of two schools of thought regarding secrets, either everyone knew or no one did. He stumbled on the latter.

Thank god!

He really didn’t want this to blow up on him before he got a chance to surprise Steve.

The concert was even more amazing than the one in Indy and Eddie’s skin was just thrumming with excitement as he paid off a member of stadium staff to send the flowers to the dressing room.

They let him wait in the wings without telling anyone who he was. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for Steve to get his flowers. But he wasn’t bored. He watched the roadies and techs scramble about breaking down the set pieces.

He saw two of them carrying Astraeus’s wings and they were even cooler close up. He could that they weren’t just glittery blue, but actual galaxies and constellations.

He was about to ask if he could touch them when a woman in a stylish, black pant suit and sunglasses came storming over to him in a panic.

“Eddie Munson?” she hissed. “Come with me, now!”

Eddie grinned. “Right with you, darlin’.”

He followed her all the way to the dressing room, hands in his back pockets and a skip in his step.

****

Steve was tired. Fuck he was so tired. He scrubbed his face trying to get the sweat off.

The dressing room was heavily guarded so that he could get out his getup to shower and get the patina of being on stage off of his skin.

He would get back into Abbadon before he walked out, but he just needed to be him for a moment.

He stepped out of the shower and looked around at the gifts from fans. The management had put in the ones they thought he would want to see the most.

In the pile was the most striking blue roses he had ever seen. They were almost a midnight blue. His favorite color and his favorite flower. He walked over to them slowly as he dried himself off with the towel.

There was a simple note.

“I know your secret, sweetheart.

But don’t worry, it’s safe with me.”

Steve’s hand shook as he read the note over and over again. He made a dive for his phone, towel forgotten on the floor.

He sent off a quick text to Robin.

-Find Eddie Munson, now!

He got a message back with just one word.

-How!

He replied.

-He’s here

Steve dressed and then sat down on the sofa, settling in to wait. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door and he put the mask up to his face while the door was open, intending to lower it again. But seeing Eddie standing there with a feral grin on his face.

He wavered, unsure.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said, his grin never leaving his face. “Did you like the flowers?”

The woman looked back and forth between them in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Eddie turned to her. “You see, Robin, I figured out that Stevie here is the lead singer of an up and coming metal band. And that you two have been keeping secrets.”

Steve dropped the mask in shock, revealing his face. “How?”

Robin took off her sunglasses. “Who told? Who the fuck do I have to sue?”

Eddie smirked. “No one.”

“You’re trying to tell me,” she said with a scoff, “that Mr Double Super Senior figured out something that had been so closely guarded for the last couple of years?”

“Yup!”

Steve stood up and threw the mask on the sofa. He walked carefully over to the man he closely regarded as his best friend, the high heels of his costume clicking on the wood floor.

“How’d you do it, Eds?” he whispered when he got close enough. “How did you figure it out before the press, before our friends who are literal geniuses, before my own fucking parents?”

Eddie lifted up Steve’s jaw up with his fingers and then tapped on the two moles on the side of his neck. The ones Eddie always thought of as love bites.

“My moles?” Steve asked, unsure.

“I noticed them when I went to the concert with Dustin in Indy,” Eddie said softly. “That’s how I knew it was you.”

“Have you got some obsession with moles or something?” Robin sneered.

He shook his head. “Just Stevie.”

Steve gasped. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Robin repeated. “I’m still going to have to make you sign an NDA. I’m sorry. I know you won’t tell, but I have to be sure.”

Eddie nodded. “Send it to my lawyers.”

She nodded and slipped out of the door, barely opening it wide enough for her to exit. She put the glasses back on and decided she needed a drink. A big one. Maybe three.

****

“Sit down, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “I know how exhausting shows can be and you did it in high heels.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle but did as he was told.

“I never thought that someone would figure it out,” he said shakily. “I’m so scared right now.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “Oh, Stevie. I didn’t think it would frighten you, otherwise I would have just kept my mouth shut.”

Steve looked him in the eyes. “I’m not frightened of you or that you would tell. It’s just that old adage of if you want to keep a secret between two people–”

“You kill one,” Eddie finished grimly. “I know, baby.”

After a few months of silence Steve whispered, “So you’re obsessed with me?”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Yeah. Have been for years.”

“How long?” Steve asked biting his lip and playing with the sleeve of his hooded coat. He looked away not sure he really wanted the answer. Was this new, because he was in a metal band? Was it recent, with Steve not being as readily available as he was before?

“Since high school.”

Steve’s head snapped up and he looked at up at him in awe. “Holy shit, Eds, that’s forever.”

A soft, fond smile spread out over Eddie’s face, his dimples deepening to sharp lines on his cheeks.

It was Steve’s favorite smile of his. And one he was learning might just be for him and him alone.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie breathed, “I know.”

They were so close, their breath mingled together, their noses brushed and Steve’s eyelashes fanned out, almost touching Eddie’s cheek.

Steve let out a gasp and Eddie closed the distance. Their lips met and Steve would swear for years to come that there were god damned fireworks. There had to be. Nothing and no one had ever felt like this. It was warm and soft and hot and sexy and bright and dark all at once. Every nerve ending lit up where just their lips touched.

And then Eddie cupped the back of his head and whatever thoughts that were in Steve’s head flew out the window. Every fear, every anxiety, every doubt went running for the hills. All he needed in this very moment was Eddie.

Until the end of time.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed when he finally managed to pull away.

Steve could only agree. “Um...can you meet me at my hotel?”

Eddie licked his lips. He wanted to take Stevie apart right then right there. But it would put Steve in danger of being discovered.

And that could not happen.

Now that he knew Steve’s secret, now that Steve was letting him in. Like all the way in, he would do anything to protect him.

“Yeah, baby,” he agreed. “I’ll meet you there. Message Celeste,” he winked, “and let her know to sneak me in.”

Steve relaxed that final increment. He kissed him fiercely. “Thanks for understanding, Eds. I love you so much.”

Eddie blushed, shoving a strand of hair into his mouth to hide his face. “Ah, sweetheart. There’s nothing to thank me for. I’d burn the world down for you if you asked.”

Steve kissed him again. “I think it’s best if I go out first and then message you when the coast is clear.”

Eddie nodded.

He was still in disguise. Only four people knew who he was. The kid, Robin and Steve, and the dude he paid to get the flowers in Steve’s dressing room.

Which Eddie would send his own team of lawyers to make sure the man didn’t so much as breathe the wrong direction.

He would then, of course meet with “Celeste” and “Abbadon” to construct the perfect cover story for Steve being on the tour with Corroded Coffin. Provided Steve said yes.

Twenty minutes later, Eddie emerged from the dressing room to see only a couple of roadies still milling around.

He blinked at one of them for a moment, but then the guy disappeared around a corner and he couldn’t be sure.

He would swear later it looked like Simon Olsen. Steve’s friend. But that couldn’t be right? Couldn’t it?

He shook himself off. He had a hotel to get to and paparazzi to dodge.

Eddie slipped into his old middle school persona. The one from before he moved in with his uncle, Wayne. The one where he could shrink in on himself.

Become... not invisible, per se. Not important enough to be worth a look at.

He removed the hoodie and handed it to fan lingering outside. He roughed up his hair, untied the shoelaces on his boots, rubbed dirt on his knees and hands.

Once his new disguise was in place, he shambled down the street and people moved right through him as if he wasn’t there.

Eddie had to fight down a grin. People were eaten up with curiosity on how he could avoid getting papped no matter where he went. And this right here was his secret. Appear homeless and no one would give a damn.

He got into position and texted ‘Celeste’ he had arrived. He took the time to smooth out his hair and stretch out his spine. Walking hunched over like that hurt as he kicked and screamed into his late twenties. Something he never thought he would reach.

He texted Jeff to let him know he wouldn’t be back to night and settled in to wait.

Soon enough he was led up through the back way and then into Steve’s hotel room.

As soon as the door closed, Steve was on him.

“Are you okay? Did anyone see you?” And then, “Why are you so dirty?”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Just a little thing I learned from dear ole dad about walking about unseen. So just let me clean up a bit and I’m all yours.”

Steve bit his lip and nodded nervously.

Eddie chuckled. “Unless you wanted to join me in the shower?” he said over his shoulder.

Steve perked right up and followed Eddie into the en suite bathroom, kicking the door closed with a grin.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot

[shadowystan]

YANDERE! celebrity x f!reader – he's so pretty, so popular (you really don't wanna be his sweetheart)

No but YANDERE!celebrity with a toxic fanbase.

It's not him you should be scared of. Not his bodyguards or his influential family; not his obsessive ex or crushing best friend.

The fanbase.

Jealous fans would cloud your life. If you have social media, you'd be hacked a few thousand times a week. If you block them, turn off your comments and go private, you'd get doxxed. Plain and simple.

It's upsetting. It's suffocating. And it's downright terrifying whenever you're out in public. Death threats at your face, stalkers outside your door. No peace of mind, none whatsoever.

But of course if you're pretty enough...

YANDERE!fans who want nothing but the best for their idol. Only someone as dazzling as you could deserve him.

(It's set in stone. You have no choice.)

YANDERE!fans who're the epitome of degeneracy. Writing dirty, smutty fanfiction on the side while making ship edits with you and their celebrity. It doesn't matter how many times you've streamed live, asking them to quit it because the both of you weren't official or how much it makes you uncomfortable.

YANDERE!fans who instead of agreeing and respecting your wishes, go as far as to send you everything. Gone are the rules of RPF. They're spiteful, they're overbearing and most of all, they want you to know you have no power.

YANDERE!fans who litter whoever you try to date with messages of "kill yourself <3" or "jump off a roof. respectfully." on their social media comments or DMs.

YANDERE!fans who spread elaborate rumors about you when you do something that remotely doesn't meet their standards.

The air was soothing. The atmosphere lively. You heard the chatter of the birds, the laughs of the couples, the giggles of the teen girls-

"-Let's say she assaulted someone!"

What?

Leaning slightly to the left, you nonchalantly readjusted the dark spectacles framing your eyes. Hoodie pulled over your face and a lone piece of lettuce peeking out of your lips, the thought that someone might recognize you left your mind for the briefest of times.

And you focused on the task at hand. Eavesdropping on the conversation happening two tables to your side.

They were being rather loud. And concerning. Quite concerning.

"-That's too much, Sana." A puff of air left your mouth, a reassured smile curling in it's stead. At least Sana had wise friends-

"I mean how bad would it look for Iseul's reputation? He can't be dating an assaulter!"

You froze.

Iseul. Iseul. Iseul. Iseul Iseul Iseul Iseul-

That damned name.

A bunch of collective "oohs" and "aahs" splattered. The teenagers nodded in agreement, being particularly vocal.

"Let's say she bullied one of us!"

"Or that she has been to prison!"

"We caught her shoplifting?"

"Boring!"

A fry was thrown at whoever said the last word. Useless bickering followed by rolls of their eyes, the girls easily overcame the little hindrance and got back to brainstorming.

You sucked in a breath, spoon limply hanging off your fingers.

They were definitely talking about you.

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. It's not a big deal. This is normal-

"We should break into her house or something. The address is leaked anyway."

The table screeched, you stood up.

Legs having a brain of their own, you paced out of the restaurant, the memories of the girls fibbing and bickering and planning like no tomorrow kept echoing through your mind. Like a broken record. Since when had your life turned to such shambles?

God. Why were things like this for you?

Releasing a shaky breath, you gulped, burying the insecurity deep inside of you. Whipping the lopsided glasses away, you stop caring for a moment.

You don't care. For sure. But then your hands are moving and they're looking through your pockets, seeking for something and my goodness, since when did your phone start feeling so heavy?

Unfamiliar and hesitant, you went through your contact list, heart beating so fast that you felt like it'll rip right out of your chest. Your lips quivered, flushed skin feeling hotter and hotter by the second. A fever? Or was this anger?

You shivered, ignoring the tears and the salt and the aching, aching feel of your soul. You fiddled for a moment – just a moment – but then you're harshly pressing the call button and wiping snot off your nose before placing the phone to your ear and waiting like a madwoman. Impatient and uncalm and-

"My love! You called!"

Him.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

How you hate him.

"I'll-I'll do it,-" You spluttered, very much on the verge of choking on your own spit and mumbling strings of curses at him and them and every single person who's so, SO mean to you- "I-i'll make it official. We.. we will! Just..- just please.."

You've perished. You've perished until this second, this moment and you'll continue perishing but-

"J-just.. make them stop."

Don't you deserve a break too? With everything he puts you through?

A tsk from his side was heard. Iseul sounded amused, almost cross with you. Almost pouty. Almost smiling.

"Really now? This easy? Things were only just getting fun."

You wanted to gut YANDERE!celebrity. Brutally.

[babybeastluv]

would you be open to write smth with top!tzuyu with spanking, edging, and oral 🙈

Birthday Wishes

Top! Tzuyu x Fem Reader

word count: 1.2k

cw: Spanking, slight edging, oral, overstimulation, face sitting, nipple play

an: sorry to the anon who requested this and had to wait so long

tags: @cry4tzu @miinatozakiii @forbebeandjam

-

Birthdays were always a sore subject for you. So when your birthday rolled around this year and your girlfriend asked what you wanted to do you simply replied with “nothing and no presents either.”

Tzuyu not knowing why you don’t like to celebrate your birthday, decided that the week leading up to your special day she was going to get you small things as to make it seem like she was truly doing nothing for your birthday.

Day 1: She gifts you a small silver necklace

Day 2: A matching ring set

Day 3: A small pair of silver earrings

Day 4: A silver bracelet that has both of your initials carved into it

Day 5: A framed picture of you and her kissing on the beach during sunset

By the fifth day you had finally figured out what she was doing, you thought it was sweet but also thought it was a little much given that you told her you wanted nothing for your birthday.

On the sixth day you walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, only to find her making breakfast for you with a bouquet of flowers sitting on counter. “Babe I told you I didn’t want anything for my birthday.” You said as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind.

She lets out a small chuckle as she turns the stove off and turns around to place a kiss on the top of your head. “I know what you said but I can’t not do anything for your birthday. So I’m going to ask again, what do you want for your birthday?” She questions for a second time.

You think for a moment as you sit down to eat the amazing breakfast she had cooked, “I want to just spend the day with you” you say with a smile on your face.

She looks at you confused but then simply says “okay if that’s what you want” then goes about eating.

Day seven rolls around and you woke up to a basket full of your favorite things such as, candies, chips, drinks and other small things. There was even a new blanket and hoodie inside. You noticed a small note sticking out from under the basket.

Picking it up you read it and it was truly beautiful, Tzuyu had such a way with words and it made you cry. She may not know the reason you don’t like your birthday but you just found a reason to start.

The following day was spent cuddled up to her watching all of your favorite movies and eating the snacks she had bought for you, looking up at her with a soft smile on your face as the third movie of the day played. You couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to be dating her.

“I can feel you staring” she says as she slowly turns to look down at you, leaning up you place a quick peck on her lips “thank you” you whispered as you climbed into her lap kissing her again.

Wrapping her arms around your waist she kisses you back, deepening the kiss. You moan against her lips as she slowly starts to grind your hips along her own.

Pulling away from the kiss you rest your forehead on hers as she runs her fingers through your hair, slowly she starts to lean in again aiming for your neck as she moves all your hair to one side.

Sucking and kissing it gently as she leaves dark purple marks in her wake. As she continues to mark up your neck she begins to shift so that you’re laying down on the couch her hovering above you as quiet whimpers leave your lips.

“More” you husk out as you place your hands under her shirt and on her toned abs.

Moving on from attacking your neck she moves her hands down to slowly slide your shirt up as she kisses your lips again before fully removing the useless piece of clothing.

“You’re so pretty baby” she exclaims as she looks you up and down. Your upper half completely bare and exposed to her as she slowly runs her hand over your stomach leaning down and taking a nipple into her mouth.

Her soft gentle hand continues to trace over the soft skin of your abdomen as she skillfully works your nipple in her mouth.

Back arching in ecstasy when the hand that was once gracing your stomach pinches the unoccupied nipple.

A moan of her name slips past your lips and you entangle your fingers in her hair to hold her against your chest.

Releasing your nipple with a pop she looks up at you as her hands travel down to your underwear, slowly she begins to slide the soaked piece of fabric down your legs and tosses it behind her.

A sharp gasp leaves your mouth when the cool air from the room breezes past your warm cunt. A devilish smirk graces your girlfriends lips as she looks your body over once more before she dive in.

Her lips attach themselves to your clit as she brings your legs up and over your shoulders. The prolonged ministrations of her lapping you up quickly begins to build as you feel your first orgasm approaching.

"Tzu" you mumble out as she continues to work at your lower half, legs slightly shaking as you come undone on her tounge.

Lapping up your juices she places gentle kisses along your inner thighs as her hands slowly snake around your body.

She flips you both over so you were now sitting on her face as she lays beneath you, she begins to eat you out again as you grip the back of the couch and throw your head back.

"Fuck Tzuyu" you moan out as she squeezes your thighs.

As your second orgasm approaches Tzuyu pulls away, letting out a whine she crawls out from under you and gets behind you on the couch.

"We aren't done yet pretty girl" she whispers in your ear as her hands find their way to your hips.

Pushing you slightly forward so you're now leaning over the back of the couch she brings her left hand down across your ass, a loud moan escapes the confines of your throat as she repeats this action.

Ass bright red, sweet nectar dripping down onto the couch. You whimper out as she reaches around and begins to slowly rub your clit.

Placing sweet kisses across the nape of your neck as she picks up her pace.

"ngh tzu I'm so close" you moan out as her thigh presses up against your dripping cunt from behind. Fingers still working at your clit diligently.

Teeth sinking into your neck sends you over the edge.

-

An hour and four orgasms later Tzuyu has you a panting mess. Sweet kisses are being placed all over you chest as she slowly works her way back up to your face.

Smililing tiredly up at her as she hovers over you again.

"Happy birthday sweet girl" she says as she strokes your cheek and leans down to places kisses on your forehead.

"Thank you baby" you mumble out through a yawn.

"Thank you for making this night rememberable love" you say as you lean up and place a kiss to her soft lips.

Laying down together on the couch you lay your head on her chest as your legs intertwine and the both of you succumb to sleep.