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bless-my-demons · 2 months ago

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Scared Of Losing You

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?

Losing his imprint, that’s what.

Warnings: hurt/comfort followed by fluff of course and curse words - PG-13.

Notes: This is literally just a one-shot that would not leave me alone so I had to get it out! It’s all in reader’s pov with no physical description and gender neutral for the most part I think. I also listened to The Wire by the Vancouver Sleep Clinic while I was writing this, if you want the right vibes✨ enjoy my first Paul fic!

Word count: 1700

Masterlist

Beep… beep… beep…

The constant tone is almost soothing, almost, but not quite - there’s too much pain.

The hospital sheets crinkle as I try to shift to find a more comfortable position, but a soft inhale has my eyes snapping open against the bright light above my bed to search for the source of the sound.

“Sam?” I try to keep my voice low, but it comes out as more of a dry croak.

Sam leans forward in his chair to reach for the cup of ice on the tray near my bed, “Yeah, kid.” He keeps his own voice quiet, but I can hear the tiredness in the deep rumble.

It’s after my first sip of cold water that I take in everyone piled in my room. Embry, Quil, Jared, even Jacob - the boys are sprawled out on various chairs and couches, all completely knocked out and some of them even snoring lightly.

But there’s another, Paul. And my heart beats a little faster taking him in, the heart monitor giving me away.

“He’s been here the whole time, hasn’t even left to shower.” Sam shifts back into his chair positioned next to the foot of my bed, directly across from his best friend on the other side, his eyes worrying over said man. “To be fair, none of us have been able to leave.”

“Sam-” I’m speechless for a few seconds, “what happened?”

He loosens a sigh so deep, it pulls something in my chest. God, how long have I been here? Looking over Paul’s sleeping form, I try to put the pieces together - his head is buried face-down in his crossed arms, leaning on the end of my bed near my left leg, one of his warm hands wrapped around my ankle-my uninjured ankle. His shirt is rumbled, but I can see stubble on his cheek peeking out from where his face is hidden. If it weren’t for the pain, I’d be an absolute hot mess at the physical contact; the way his large hand easily wraps around my ankle, how warm my side is due to the heat emanating from this mountain of a man despite the cold of the hospital room.

“You were in a car accident leaving the reservation after your dinner with Emily. You didn’t text her when she expected you to be home, you didn’t answer your phone and it went straight to voicemail…” I can see the genuine concern on his face as he recalls it, “When we got there, Chief Swan was already on scene.”

“How bad? How long have I been here?” I can feel my throat starting to constrict, my heart rate starting to tick a little faster.

Sam’s eyes flick to the monitor, brotherly worry written all over the creases in between his eyebrows and the hard press of his lips.

“Three days.” This time it’s not Sam that answers, it’s the deep tenor that invades my dreams as well as damn near every waking thought of mine, Paul Lahote.

My head whips to meet his intense gaze so fast that it makes me slightly nauseous, his hand lightly squeezing my ankle in a way that tugs at another string in my chest.

“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam rises from his seat and I panic slightly, he’s leaving me with Paul. Paul Lahote, the guy I have an insanely intense crush on, the guy that doesn’t do feelings. The panic subsides quickly though, I giggle slightly at Sam trying to wake up and usher the boys still half-asleep out of my room.

The door clicks behind them, silencing their grumbles and their absence echos in the room. Sucking all the air out with their departure, it’s damn near impossible to meet his eyes again.

“Sweetheart.” The tenderness and hush in his voice is unfair, coupled with the gentle swipe of his thumb over the skin of my ankle. Damn, he doesn’t fight fair.

It’s like a magnet, the way my eyes draw back to his. They look so fucking tired and it hurts.

“Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a nicked lung, and a broken tibia. Not to mention all the cuts-” he cuts himself off, hands and gaze running over my uninjured leg like he’s trying to reinforce something inside himself.

“Paul-” He stills at his name, eyes closing, inhaling deep. “Paul.”

Finally he turns to me, eyes opening and showing the slightest bit of tears pooling at the edges and its another pang to the center of my chest.

“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” My voice is small, not sure how to tread this tense situation.

A wet laugh tumbles out as his hands abandon my leg to rub at his temples. “You.” It’s quiet and I almost don’t catch it over the beeping of monitors.

“What?” I ask, my voice taking on an incredulous tone. Surely I didn’t hear him right, right?

“You.” His eyes lock onto mine with full force, face set. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” he rubs at his chest like it hurts and my breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” The pause hitching his breath, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” his groan of frustration slides over my skin and lodges in my throat with the rest of my guilt. “I-I-”

His stuttering renders me absolutely speechless, Paul Lahote showing feelings? Feelings for me? Is this real life?

“So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”

“Paul, I’m fine.” I try to reach for his hands, but a stabbing pain in my side stops me, right - the ribs.

“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake then they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” The tremble in his hands stop his rant, drawing his attention somewhere else. His next words are a whisper, “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.”

The conviction in his statement makes my chin wobble.

“Sweetheart,” he rises from his chair and cups my cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” the strong thumb swiping over my cheekbone only weakens my thin resolve and a tear spills over.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice wobbles, damn me for not being stronger, but everything hurts and he’s being so vulnerable and-and-and it’s so scary.

He leans down further, forehead pressing to my own, his nose barely brushing mine. My heart rate monitor picks up its cadence once again and that smirk I’ve always loved crinkles the side of his stupid, perfect mouth.

“I’m the one that’s sorry.” His admission confuses me, he’s sorry? “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”

My heart fully stops functioning and my mouth drops open at this new bit of information.

His lips brush my cheek as they whisper into my ear, “breathe.” My entire body is a live wire as I gulp oxygen down.

“You don’t have to say anything-” his immediate insecurity about his confession is too much.

I cut him off before I lose my resolve, “kiss me?”

His eyes widen comically for a second, as if he didn’t picture the possibility I could return his affections. Silly man.

His fingers gently glide under my chin to tilt it upwards, his eyes searching every inch of my face, like he’s looking for something.

“If you-” his turn to cut me off, his warm lips seal over mine.

Surely I’m dead. I must be, it’s the only logical reason. Either that or this is a really, really nice dream. The immersive kind, where it’s too good to be true. It’s a crime really, for lips to be so full and soft and just right-

The barely audible whimper that leaves my mouth when he pulls away a fraction of an inch is embarrassing. What’s even more embarrassing is the way I reach to chase those lips, but once again my ribs decide to protest the action, goddamnit.

Paul takes pity on me with a chuckle, resealing his lips over mine, thank god. No one should have a mouth this delicious, lips this full and warm. I’m a goner - go ahead and wheel me to the morgue, I can die happy now that I’ve finally found out what it’s like to kiss Paul Lahote.

His hands gently slide into my hair, causing a gasp to punch through from the goosebumps the warm caress pours down my spine. His tongue seizes the opportunity to lick past my lips and I happily swallow the moan he elicits right before he peels himself away.

Backing up and taking a lap around the end of the bed, I catch the flush in his cheeks as he blows out a long breath and grin to myself self-satisfied. I made the Paul Lahote flustered.

“Too much?” I ask, unable to contain myself.

For once he looks like a fish out of water, but before she could scramble a response together, a gentle knock at the door draws both our attention as Emily peeks her head around the edge, “knock, knock.”

Relief at seeing my best friend soothes the burning heat in my cheeks almost immediately.

“Come in.” Paul pushes the chair closer so that he can take my much smaller hand in his, careful of the IV taped to the back of my hand. I can’t contain the butterflies that erupt at the satisfied grin his mouth is set in, eyes glued to our joined hands.

“I’m so glad you’re awake and alright!” Her concerned ramblings fading off as the boys file back in. Sam clapping a hand on Paul’s shoulder and suspiciously empty handed with no promised coffee in sight, but I can’t look away. Not from the man that just flipped my word upside down with a couple words and a kiss.

Part Two

#twilight fanfiction #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x y/n #Paul Lahote x gn!reader #paul lahote fluff #hurt/comfort

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aakeysmash · 5 months ago

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college!sukuna would have you as a sugar baby: exam season edition

college!sukuna masterlist

“You know what, I should just drop out,” you ramble, pacing in your living room, hair disheveled and a pencil behind your ear.

Sukuna just hums, sitting on the sofa while munching on chickpea chips he bought the other day saying that “protein is protein”.

“Or or or… I should find a rich man! Yeah, I should be a sugar baby,” you continue, and he just nods, mindlessly scrolling through the tv channels.

“At least I would be happy with my ass on a yacht. Hey, do you think I have sugar baby material?” You ask him, stopping for a second, thinking. All you get as an answer is a grunt. “Sukuna? Are you even listening to me?” You wave your hand in front of the tv. That catches his attention, but only for a mere quarter of a second.

“What?”

You sigh, exasperated. “Why am I even talking to you?”

“Do a spin,” he says, lowly, still not sparing you a glance, putting a bunch of chips in his mouth. You’re so out of your mind that you actually do, and when you turn around his eyes are on you for the first time since you started talking 30 minutes ago. 30 minutes of straight whines. He’s giving you a once over, gaze fixed over how your oversized sweater is falling from your left shoulder, letting him see the top of your boob. He imagines himself sucking exactly on that spot, your breath by his ear, his mark on your-

“Yeah, I’d pay for you,” he says nonchalantly, getting back to zapping.

“You would?” You say excitedly. “Wait. You would?” You add after a moment, taken aback, your face falling progressively. You whine again. “I’m never going to be a sugar baby,” you finish, sprawling out on the carpet near the sofa he’s sitting on, closing your eyes.

“Yo, I have taste, the fuck you mean?” He replies roughly, looking down at you and slightly kicking you in the ribs. Just enough to barely move you from your star-like pose. You open your eyes, looking up at his four ones, assuming a mocking face.

“Now do you?” You say, doubtful, rolling on your side before sitting up while he’s flipping you off. You’re face to face with his knees. Yeah, knees. Keep it PG.

He gets his elbows on said knees, putting his index finger under your chin to raise your face. “Yeah baby, I’d keep you as my prettiest whore if I had like 50 years more than I do,” he says. Then he immediately adds “But I don’t, so stop fucking complaining and let me watch my damn tv. It’s fucking Saturday, give me a break,” flicking your forehead and blowing on your face at the same time. He tastes like real chickpeas and you’re almost impressed by how the pack of chips didn’t lie about the ingredients. He sprawls back on the sofa, occupying as much space as he can by laying down on his side with one of his hands under his chin, returning to his chickpea chips with the other. You scrunch your face, then pout.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t take 5 exams in a week,” you whine, getting your forehead on the little 7 inches rectangle that is left naturally near his chest.

“Suck it up, pussy boy,” he answers, bored. You’ve been going at it for what feels like an eternity and he’d already have lost his patience if seeing you miserable didn’t get a snort out of him. You turn your head to face him, hair all in your face from the movement, but you don’t have the strength to put it in a more comfortable position.

“You don’t get it,” you sigh, your features turning even more worried. You stay like that long enough to start dozing off (and seeing how sleep deprived you are lately, that’s about 40 seconds max), hearing him clean his hands. Suddenly, you feel his hand brushing on your cheek lightly, moving your hair behind your ear and away from your face.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he tells you gruffly, scratching lightly on the top of your head. You hum. You know he’s right. He knows you know you’re capable of doing it. He gives your head a couple more pats before pushing it a bit.

“Go study and stop bothering me now. This tv ain’t gonna watch itself,” he says calmly.

You get up, nodding. “Thanks, man. I know I can always count on you for some backhanded comfort,” you reply, corners of your mouth turning upwards for the first time since exam season started (literally two days ago. Hey, you’re a smiley person!). He grunts, not looking at you again, and you know that’s all you’re going to get from him.

You get back in your room to study, and suddenly he finds himself losing interest in his chips in 15 minutes, the buzzing sound of the voices from the western movie he’s watching merely a background noise. Was it always so quiet when you weren’t around?

#college au #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna fluff

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neoraso · 9 months ago

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talk to me in your love language | lmk

idol!mark x non!idol reader (him being an idol is not part of the plot at all, it's just for context) wc: ~2.8k warnings: i truthfully do not know how it became suggestive it was supposed to be sweet, still only like pg-13, lots of kissing and suggestive comments but no actual smut.

it really was nothing big, so why was your heart racing? this was absolutely not the first time you’ve prepared gifts for mark, but you never got over the giddiness that came with waiting for him to come home. whenever you made these small gestures, he always made sure to let you know how thankful he was, how special you were to him, but even still, sometimes you felt like it wasn’t enough. it was hard to say how you felt out loud, so you relied on writing it in letters, sometimes with stickers or little doodles. flowers and his favorite snacks, printed pictures of the two of you were the usual pairings. these gifts were given sporadically and usually for no reason other than you felt a surge of love that had to come out somehow.

oh well, it didn’t matter now because you could already hear the keypad being pressed as the front door opened, followed by an immediate calling out for you. it was nearing 8 p.m. and he had left at 9 o’clock this morning so, as usual, he had had an exhausting day. with an inward sigh, you hoped this would cheer him up. he had told you on occasion that no matter how much he worked, how little he slept, or how defeated he felt, seeing and being with you made everything worth it. now that he had you, there was no way he could live without you. of course, you felt the same and took opportunities like this to prove it.

“babe?” you could tell he hadn’t even gotten his shoes off or put his bag down before half shouting again, “baby? are you home?”

you busied yourself grabbing his gift from the drawer of your bedside table before responding as you exited the bedroom.

“yes sir. here i am.” you replied, dramatically spreading your arms with a sweet grin. you were sure you’d never get tired of looking at him and how his face lights up with a smile that spreads slowly when he sees you.

shaking his head to move his bangs out of his eyes, he immediately walked towards you, hands drawn to your hips and smiling oh so sincerely down at you.

“how’s my girl?” he said lowly, sliding his hands up and down your sides. “you gonna give me a kiss or what? been waiting all day.”

already flustered even after being with him so long, sometimes he caught you off guard with how bold he could be now. he had certainly grown from the bashful, wide-eyed boy you knew him as years ago. what’s worse is half the time he didn’t even realize what he was doing.

“i’m good…” you dragged out the words trying to ignore how close his mouth was to yours. his eyes were trained on your lips and you knew he was only half paying attention.

you could barely keep it together when his nose touched yours and his mouth slid over your slightly parted lips. just before he could have his way with you, you spoke against him.

“i got you something…”

at this, his eyes widened and he pulled away to see what you were talking about, his gaze trailed down to your right hand landing on the small jewelry box in your palm.

“what’s this? it’s not my birthday. wait- is it?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at how startled he was. “no, it’s not your birthday- or any other occasion, don’t worry. no occasion other than just another day i wanted to say i love you.”

he had still been holding your waist but now reached up to take the box from you before looking back into your eyes with a glint of something in his own that you couldn’t put your finger on.

“let me know if it fits you or you don’t like it and i can return it…” suddenly self-conscious, you started twisting the ring he had given you on your one year anniversary around your finger. it had become a habit when you were nervous to fidget with the band engraved with his initial. he picked up on this as well, but instead of commenting he simply opened the box carefully. a smile instantly cut across his face when he figured out what was engraved on the pendant of the thin, shiny silver bracelet. then you could also tell that he noticed the small note attached to the inside of the lid.

day one of my forever <3

“is this the date of when i actually like finally for real asked you to be my girlfriend?” he said through the grin that had only widened after looking at your expectant expression. as obsessed and endeared by him as you were, he was sure he was at least eight times more enamored with you. you let out a laugh at his description, nodding to confirm.

“yeah i thought, maybe you should have something of us too. obviously something not too flashy because… you know. but i just thought it would be cute. i can get the chain adjusted if it’s too short or-“

he cut you off with a kiss to your cheek, pulling you in for a hug and kissing your hair when he had you close enough.

“it’s perfect baby. thank you so much…” he trailed off, swaying with you in his arms (still in the doorway.) after a couple minutes, he breathed in slowly and deeply before speaking again.

“i feel like you’re always doing these things for me, and i can never reciprocate.” you could’ve sworn his voice cracked at the end of his sentence which alarmed you because he was almost never choked up and especially not over a bracelet. instead of pulling away to look at him (because you knew he probably wouldn’t let you if he was actually crying) you patted his back, holding him tight too.

“aw baby,” you reassured him, “i don’t do this for anything in return. this is just how i show my love. i love you unconditionally anddon’t expect anything from you on top of everything you already do for me.” now you did pull away, slightly pushing him backwards by his chest. you only briefly acknowledged how his eyes were just a bit shinier than normal and instead pulled his face to yours with both hands now that they were free.

kissing him in between phrases you tried to tell him how you felt.

“you’re so sweet to me,”

“always cheering me up,”

“making sure i get good sleep, if i’ve taken my vitamins,” he was chasing your mouth at this point, nearly drunk from how much affection was pouring out of you.

“hugging me~”

“holding me~”

“making me laugh~”

“and, you give me gifts too.” with a final kiss you stood back and patted his chest and continued, “so basically, don’t feel bad. you just express it differently. and i’ve never doubted your love. not even once. okay?”

he hid his face in your neck and pressed his lips against the skin there, dragging his mouth back and forth making you shiver and thread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“okay… well i really do love it. and i love you,” he kissed your neck and continued as his lips ghosted upwards towards your ear, “you know i’d do anything for you don’t you?”

“yes…i do…” your answer was airy as you could only whisper trying to keep your knees from buckling with how close he was. obviously, he was unaware of the effect he was having on you because he keptgoing, moving upwards and inhaling audibly before kissing your cheek, finally ghosting over the corner of your mouth until pressing against your lips full on. you responded immediately, giving in to his original request (a mutually beneficial one).

surprisingly, he pulled away before you, just far enough that you could look into his eyes but still feel his warm breath on your face.

“you know i keep everything you give me. every letter, the movie tickets from our dates, i even still have that little shell you found at the beach and gave to me just because it was pretty.” now he was smiling again, petting your hair and straightening his posture upwards so his mouth was level with your forehead, leaving yet another kiss there. you hadn’t said anything to his confession, stunned that things you thought were insignificant meant so much to him. your lack of response didn’t faze him because he knew what you meant to say just from the way you looked up at him.

“come on, help me put this on then we can get some food, i’m starving.”

“you didn’t eat?” you asked him with a frown, now grabbing the fabric of his hoodie at his wrists that were hanging onto your shoulders.

instead of answering right away, he just straightened his arms more, starting to step forward forcing you to walk backwards, you could only laugh a bit at how you both had to waddle all the way to the couch.

“nah, i ate earlier today but i left before the guys did so i could see you.” he belatedly replied, looking a bit too happy with his decision even in the face of your glare (even though he had tried to explain to you that it was more adorable than menacing). you spared him the lecture about taking care of himself because all that mattered now was that he was here, and you could take care of him all you wanted.

he flopped onto the couch with a loud sigh, swiftly pulling you down too with the grip he had on you. you scooted back, getting more comfortable when he guided your legs over his lap throwing his head over the back of the sofa with his eyes closed. you could see the exhaustion in his face and let out a small breath too, causing him to open one eye to check on you only to find you looking back at him fondly. you reached towards his hand that was still grasping the jewelry box, but he seemed to think that you meant to hold his hand because he grabbed your fingers as soon as they touched the cool leather of the box.

“i was trying to help you put this on, silly.”

“oh” was all he could say, the tips of his ears red as he tried to calm his heart down, letting go of the gift and wondering if it was always going to be this nerve-wracking being around you.

he hoped so.

he was still looking at you with visible heart eyes by the time you finished securing the bracelet around his wrist. before you removed your left hand, he softly held your fingers over his palm, admiring the ring on your middle finger.

“you wear this every day huh?” he said, chest puffing with pride at his girl wearing a ring with his name. he only saw your nod out of the corner of his eye before getting lost back in thought. he began stroking the finger next to it, your ring finger. he took a pause, with his eyes still fixed on your hand. “there’ll be a ring here next, i promise.”

you didn’t even have a chance to say anything before he leaned over to leave a quick kiss on your lips before continuing like nothing had happened. the tension dissipated just as easily as he had built it up, giving you major whiplash (which actually was nothing new with him).

“i’m thinking chicken, whatchu want girl?” he was teasing you now, squeezing the flesh of your exposed thigh, his bracelet cool against your skin. his other hand maneuvered his phone out of his pocket. your mind was still replaying his words from just a second ago, so you responded dazedly,

“whatever you want baby.” you replied simply, truly just wanting him to eat at all.

“aw, i have everything i want but i would also like some fried chicken.” he replied looking all too pleased with himself.

“how romantic.” you said flippantly, adjusting your position onto your knees to look at his phone screen for the menu. after about 30 seconds you realized he was staring at you again. when you turned your head to face him, he grinned as if this was his plan all along.

“hi.” he said simply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. it was your turn to be flustered now as you could feel your face heating up, but you still didn’t want to look away.

“hello...”

he looked at you for a moment.

“you’re so pretty, did you know that?”

he says this often, and still, it never fails to make your heart skip a beat.

“my boyfriend has told me that once or twice…”

“hm, seems like your boyfriend is slacking, what ever could he do to show you how special you are?” he played right along.

“well, he could kiss me right now for starters…”

“that’s a simple enough request.” he was already leaning in with his nose brushing yours. you met him there, parting your lips when he lightly grabbed your cheeks. he hastily slid his tongue in and pressed you impossibly close, practically panting into your mouth when you reciprocated just as eagerly. his eyes were still closed and his chest was rising and falling just a tad heavier than usual when you pulled away from him.

this only lasted for five seconds before he was already guiding you towards his face by the back of your neck so you had to talk against his mouth.

“my boyfriend…allllways shows me how pretty and special i am to him.” you kissed him once, “i have no complaints.” another kiss “love him more than he knows.” a final kiss to his lips, another on the beauty mark on each of his cheeks and a final one to his nose before attempting to sit back up.

this whole time you had been hovering over him sideways, only being held up by your hand on his knee. it was such an awkward position you tried to return to your original arrangement but he refused, tugging you closer and manipulating your hips until you were sat with your back on his chest.

“there we go, now you can help me order.” he rested his cheek on your head and turned his face a bit to kiss you there several times.

“you know what i like baby, i trust you to order.”

“yeah i do know what you like, i could show you if you want…” you couldn’t see him but you know he was smirking and raising his eyebrows suggestively like he always did when he tried to start something.

“can you order the food first and then show me?”

“can you kiss me again?”

“mark.”

“ok my bad, my bad.” finally paying for the food he all but threw his phone to the side and almost instantaneously flipping you (as delicately as possible) with your back to the couch, hovering over you.

“wow, somebody is excited.” you teased before holding in your breath when he put his face in your neck, immediately mouthing at it.

“wanted to be with my girl allll day, you gonna deny me of it?” he leaned back up over you, with a pleading look on his face. he knew if you didn’t really want his affection, you’d say it, so it was a half-rhetorical question.

“no, no, carry on cutie pie”

he groaned at this making you giggle, knowing how calling him cute makes him want to prove something. it was a fun trick you liked to pull out every once in a while.

“ugh dude, you’re killing the moment right now, we were having a moment.”

you opted to trail your finger along the neckline of his hoodie and lifting your knee upwards so it brushed the inside of his thigh. his expression was one of slight panic which always satisfied you when you got to have your moments.

“so sorry baby, let’s go have a moment anywhere but this couch my neck is already getting tweaked i can feel it.”

with your green light, he got impatient all over again. he tugged you up off the couch with him, practically vibrating with anticipation. he couldn’t even wait to kiss you again, eagerly pressing his lips to yours once you got on your feet.

“i really do love the gift baby, and i love you, can’t wait to wear it everywhere. love you so much…” he was whispering against your mouth between each kiss, grabbing at your sides.

he had a tendency to be insatiable.

you had tangled your fingers in his hair in his frenzy and now worked to smooth down the strands. cooing at him,

“aw i love you too, you’re so sweet baby, and handsome, and if i recall correctly, were just offering to show me something…” you brought him back to the task at hand and he was quick with his response, nudging you towards the bedroom.

“wayyy ahead of you.”

the food could wait.

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manvitha05 · 12 days ago

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shyamvandanapg · 7 months ago

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venusrising91 · 5 months ago

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Gym-body

Pairing: Huta x Male reader

Genre: Smut 18+ mdni

Summary: You've always wanted a gym body. Your new trainer can help you achieve it—if you could only pry your eyes off his toned biceps for long enough to follow instructions. (Thank you to brattyboy for the request!)

Word count: 1,755 (2 pgs)

You weren’t sure if you could trust your own two eyes. It was pretty early and you hadn’t had any coffee yet. Only a bitter pre-workout drink. The interior of the gym was pretty dark. It was barely 6AM—the only available time-slot for the gym’s most highly reviewed and sought after personal trainer. He stood near the weights, looking suspiciously similar to the only boy you’ve ever had a crush on—Huta Lee.

Except he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man. Tall and muscular. So carved that he could’ve been a Greek god.

What the fuck was he doing here?

You should’ve paid closer attention to the photos on his employee profile. In them, his face had been obscured by a mask but now, as you looked at his page on your phone again, huddled in the corner near the mirrors, you saw that the eyes staring out at you from within the screen were familiar. You could never forget those eyes: dreamy and dark.

“You my 6am client?” asked Huta, walking toward you with two dumb-bells.

You had resolved to leave but…fuck. Too late to chicken out now.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am,” you replied, voice trembling.

“What are you doing hiding in the corner? Come out. I won’t bite.”

You pocketed your phone and shuffled over to him. Did he recognize you? You hoped not. He never took much notice of you in high-school. But you always noticed him. He’d gotten so much bigger since those teenage days—you could hardly believe this was the same scrawny Huta that you were so enamored with back then.

He eyed you as you stood before him, then asked, “So what area are you looking to strengthen?” As he said this, he assessed your body, dragging his gaze over your chest, your arms, then lower, lingering on your…fuck.

fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!

You were getting hard just off the sight of him, the outline of your arousal creating a tent in your shorts.

“Is that because of me?” asked Huta. You froze. He saw it?

Your heart quickened, beating fast as you scrambled for a reply.

Huta chuckled. “Relax, I’m just fucking with you. Certain pre-workout drinks make me hard, too. Some dudes get wood for a while because of the increased blood flow. Should wear off once we start warming up.”

You were so flustered that you didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Every word and sentence went right out of your head. All you could focus on was the throbbing between your legs—of Huta’s lips and eyes as they gazed out at you. Of his chiseled body and the faint traces of his cologne as it wafted through the air around you.

“I...I think I should go,” you said.

Huta chuckled again. “Oh come on, it’s just an erection, bro. It’ll wear off. Let's go, pick up the weights. We’ll do a few sets, take the edge off.”

You did as he said, albeit with a degree of reluctance.

He guided you through a warm-up and a full body work-out. By the time it was over, you were still aching and erect. It had been so long since anyone touched you. And Huta had his hands on you, spotting you through most of the session. You practically raced out of the gym after finishing the last set.

For the rest of the day, he was all you could think about. At work, at dinner, in the shower.

Later that night in bed, you set your alarm and thought about the session as you lay there. Behind your closed eyes, Huta came into focus, the fantasy of being with him weaving itself to life in the blank space of your mind. You couldn’t resist touching yourself, and came hard to the thought of him—of his naked body, then drifted.

In the morning, he was there waiting for you in the gym. The workout was just as painstaking as yesterday’s. Twice he caught sight of the bulge between your legs, widening his eyes as he regarded it.

“Starting to think you’ve got a crush on me,” Huta said with a devious grin after spotting you for a round of sit-ups.

You adjusted your shorts and rose, feeling too shy to respond. You didn’t trust the words that might spill from your lips. Around him, you felt so insecure and unsure of yourself, and just like the sight of your hardened cock, Huta noticed this, too. “Wait, don’t tell me you actually—”

“What if I do?” you blurted it out with no thought for consequences.

The look in his eyes. What were you thinking saying something like that? You wanted to kick yourself. Quickly, you collected your gym bag and rushed through the doors.

Huta shouted after you.

Outside of your pulse roaring like a lion in your ears, you could hear nothing, and you refused to stop for clarification. Whatever he’d said, he could say it to your back.

At home, you tried to forget. It was all so stupid of you. Huta was just as unavailable to you now as he had been in high school. You considered quitting the gym, and you would have, but you’d already paid in advance for three more sessions. If you kept your mouth shut and your eyes down, maybe you could get through them without another foolish incident.

The next morning (following a restless night) you entered the gym and found Huta waiting. He was frowning. Your gazes met for a split second. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his expression didn’t look welcoming in the least.

He was short with you—ordering you around and giving you hard looks for the entirety of the session. During your last set, he glared at you, arms crossed.

“The other day. What was that about?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, y/n.”

Your name. He’d said your name. Your real name (you’d given him a fake one once you realized who he was) He knew you?

“You know who I—”

“Of course I do. Clocked you as soon as you walked through the doors for our first session. You haven’t changed a bit. Still as shy and awkward as ever. Thought you might’ve outgrown it. Guess I was wrong.”

You didn’t know what to say. Seconds ticked by in silence. Then: “Why do you keep teasing me about my—”

“About your hard-on? Why do you think?”

“I-I-I…don’t—I…”

“Are you seriously that clueless?”

You couldn’t think straight, and gathered your belongings, then headed for the locker room. You needed to get away from him.

But he followed you inside.

The next few moments were a blur. Before you realized it, Huta had you pinned against one of the lockers, breathing down on you. He stood so close that the tips of your noses touched.

“I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. You were my biggest crush,” he said against your mouth.

All this time, he wanted you, too?

Something unfurled in you, so many years of pent up passion and wanting bursting forth all at once to claim you. You reached into Huta’s sweatpants and took him in your hand. He groaned at the contact, throwing his head back.

“That’s it, just like that,” he whispered as you stroked him. After a few pulls he drew back. “Not here,” he said, panting. With this, he grabbed you by the wrist and led you out of the locker room.

He’d taken you to the showers. It was early, and there were barely any gym-goers present. Every stall was empty. Huta pulled back the curtain of one and ushered you inside. He had his mouth on you in an instant. Sucking and biting at your willing flesh.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” Huta said, trailing kisses across your chest. All you could do was moan as his lips and tongue traced lustful patterns against you.

“I want you inside me,” you panted, breathless.

He took a break from kissing you and grinned, turning on the shower in the process. Each of you stripped off your clothing. Then slowly, he reached behind you, and within moments, his fingers found your hole. He pushed at your entrance, gently. The water streamed over both of your naked bodies, providing a small amount of lubrication. Just not enough.

You winced as his finger sank deeper into your tight ring of muscles.

“Loosen up, baby—relax, I won’t hurt you,” Huta said as he pressed a kiss into the hollow of your throat.

You grabbed hold of his erection as he finger fucked you, giving him tight fisted pumps. He moaned after each one, and in response, pushed his finger further into your depths. Your hole absorbed him, up to the knuckle. The pleasure made your eyes roll back.

He had you leaking all over the shower floor from the rhythm of his steady penetration.

“That’s it. Look how well you’re taking it. Good boy,” he said as he grabbed a handful of your ass, and spread your cheeks wider. He swirled his digit deeper inside of you. You almost came, and would have, but he stopped abruptly, easing his finger out of you. The sensation made you whimper and tremble. “Lean against the wall. I want to lick you.”

He didn’t wait for you to move, and shoved you against the tiles of the stall. Before you knew it, his tongue was inside of you, licking that delicate, forbidden place. He ate you like a main dish. Halfway through, he brought his hand around to tug on your hard cock. His efforts resulted in two back to back orgasms, each leaving you weaker than the last. By the third, you watched the thick ropes shooting down the drain in amazement. Stunned that your body had produced so much semen for him.

Huta would have given you a fourth orgasm, but you stopped him.

“Had enough?” he asked, licking his lips.

You nodded. “Just about.”

“My turn, then. Get on your knees.”

You didn’t have to be told. You were longing to taste him. He made the most beautiful, ruined, helpless sounds as you swallowed his length, taking it to the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck, y/n, just like that. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t intend to. Not even when you’d drained him of his load. He’d lost it quickly. You had been eager to please him. He praised you afterward, calling you a good boy, and showering you with compliments.

The two of you had made a mess in the shower stall. You bathed together, each working a lather on the other.

Back in the locker room, you dressed and exchanged what could only be described as coy pillow talk.

If every work-out was going to end like this, then you’d have the perfect gym body in no time.

#kpop fanfic #kpop x you #btob huta #btob minhyuk #male reader #btob #kpop smut #smut writing

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jindalservices1 · 8 months ago

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Best PG in Zirakpur By Jindal Services

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saltypatrolunknown · 1 year ago

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VIJAY PG Gurugram, Haryana

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bumpkinspice0 · 6 months ago

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Know One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 2/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Your emotions start to settle and you get to know Logan a little more Warnings: Hangover? Negative self-talk, SEXUAL TENSION, pg-13 dirty talk, talk of past trauma/abuse

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

You always found it wasn’t the hangover that was the worst part after a night of drinking— it was the shame. A heavy groan rolls out of your lips, your achy shoulders leaning over the third cup of coffee that was forced on you. You’re still surprised you had the courage to leave your room at all. This isn’t the first time the X-men nursed you back to the land of living after a night of less-than-savory decisions, but you do hope it’s the last.

Thankfully, you hadn’t seen Logan all morning.

He drove you both home. He carried you to bed. You called him a fucking calendar boy. God, you had to be here for at least another week. How on earth are you going to get through this? Could you possibly avoid him for days? With enough dedication… Maybe.

“You and Logan seem to have made up then?” Storm muses, taking a seat next to you at the kitchen counter.

“We… went to Stevie’s,” You grumble into your coffee.

“Of course you did,” She tries and fails to hide her smile. You’d drug Storm there plenty of times back in the day.

“I thought I’d be nice. Be The bigger person, ya know. Make peace. It was supposed to be one drink, Ororo,” You slump down to the counter, burying your face in your arms, “He carried me to my goddamn bed.”

“Did he now?” You hear the intrigue in her voice.

“I called him a lumberjack. Or a firefighter or something. Scream-sang half the way home too I think.”

“Mmm,” she hums into her mug before taking a generous sip of coffee, “And did… anything else happen last night?”

You immediately shoot up, cheeks heating in an instant. Storm always loved the juicier gossip.

“Nope!” you blurt just a little too loudly, “Just shamefully being tucked in, unfortunately.”

“Shame. I think he likes you.”

“Yeah… right,” You wheeze, “The professor made him my chaperone to the greenhouse yesterday, I got drunk on his dime, and on top of that I think I scratched up his bike when I knocked it over… with him on it.”

“Details, darling. Details.” She gets up to round the kitchen island, pulling out a cereal box and two bowls. “More importantly, what do you think of him?”

“Well, he wrecked the flowers you got me.” you bluntly point out.

“A fact that I’m sure Jean is scolding him for this very moment,” she pours two bowls of Honeycombs, one heftier than the other, “He’s a difficult person, yes, but he’s trying to get better too. It took a lot of convincing from all of us when he first came here.”

Sounds like someone else that used to come here. You want to say it but the double meaning in her tone is clear.

You recall trying to run away at least twice when you first came to the X Mansion. It was scary, and you’d been in fight or flight mode for so long that you didn’t know how to react. Everything was always a matter of time at that point in your life. It seemed like everyone became an enemy, eventually. Every home was abandoned, eventually. You would have run out of time eventually— if it wasn’t for Charles.

“He’s not so bad on the eyes either though, is he?” Storm slides a near overflowing bowl to you, milk splashing over the sides.

“Ro,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to hide your smile more than anything. She was always so forward, “I think I said he could be in a calendar last night. Like the sexy calendars.”

“Ah, so the drunken confessions have gotten the ball rolling,” Storm slides back in next to you, “Other than his leg buckling good looks, what else do you think of him?”

It’s still too early in this relationship to form a concrete opinion about him. He ruined your flowers and you got drunk with him. It’s not the best start to a friendship— but you’ve had worse.

You think back to the hastily taken-off shoes next to your bed. An untouched glass of water on your nightstand you immediately downed. The crinkles around his eyes that deepened when he laughed at whatever you were rambling about back at the bar. An abandoned red flannel left around your shoulders when you woke up this morning…

He didn’t talk much, but he listened. He cared in his own tough guy way.

“I think… he’s nice.”

______________

You choose to work on the tunnels today, not ready to face the blinding sunlight outside. The max dose of ibuprofen and a steady supply of Gatorade were working overtime as you blast further into the rock. There was still at least half a mile to clear out and Hank wanted to get started on the wiring for the lights and ventilation as soon as possible.

Ideally, you wouldn't be doing anything today. Drinking always took it out of you, but you couldn’t just loaf around the mansion nursing a hangover when you were hired to do a job. You didn’t even get in the tunnel until noon and after an hour of punching through bedrock, you’re already exhausted.

You emerge from the tunnel back into the basement for a small break, soot already covering you despite your less-than-enthusiastic work effort. For once you didn’t want to bury yourself in your work— metaphorically at least. For the first time since you got here, you give yourself a chance to breathe.

The sleek lower halls of the X-men haven’t changed. It looks the same, but it feels completely different— just like fucking everything lately. Nothing changed here, but you have. A place you were once so proud to be. Now… now you don’t know.

But maybe you’re starting to come to terms with it— feeling comfortable, even. It’s okay that things change, literally everything does. That’s what moving forward is all about.

Is that what you were doing? Moving forward?

You come to the display cases, everyone’s suits standing proudly on faceless mannequins. Suits of the current X-Men and the past. They still had yours, of course. A plaque that read ‘(Bull)Dozer’ rested at its feet. You wonder if it would still fit you.

“Always wondered who wore that one.” A now familiar gruff voice pulls you out of your reminiscing. You turn and there he is, leaning against the adjacent wall, that blasted smirk on his face.

He’s suited up, a fresh sheen of sweat marking his forehead and a faint smell of smoke lingering around him. He must have just come from the danger room.

You give your own smirk and give him a quick once-over, taking in the garish yellow that covered him from head to toe, “I didn’t expect yours to be so… Bright.”

“Goes with my eyes,” He teases, coming to stand next to you. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how filthy you surely must be. You resist the urge to dust yourself off. There was no use, you were covered in dirt. “How you feeling today, darlin’?”

The pet name shoots butterflies straight to your stomach. Either from embarrassment or… something else.

“Just fine.” You say as confidently as you can.

“Didn’t expect you to be so… productive today.” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’ve been around the block a few times. I’m tough.”

“I’m sure you are.”

The air is suddenly suffocating and you’re not sure how much of it is in your head. You don’t dare bring up whatever you could have possibly said last night. You couldn’t just ignore it either.

“I wanted to say… thanks… for last night,” you break the silence, “But also I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry you had to play babysitter.”

“Ya know you’ve got a nasty habit of apologizing for things you shouldn’t be apologizing for.”

“Logan–”

“I had a good time last night,” He cuts you off, going from a teasing tone to a more serious one. He means it. He wants you to know he means it, “Wasn’t the first time I had to carry someone to bed and it won’t be the last. I didn’t mind. You were pretty fun before that too. Play a mean game of pool.”

You’re not sure but you swear you see him wink.

You feel the rush to your cheeks again. Since when did you get so shy around shit like this? Maybe it was just him. Something about him had this effect on you.

You goddamn teenager.

“Doing the Danger Room solo, huh?” you quickly change the subject.

“Not a very good team player,” he shrugs, “Not that anyone here would be much of a challenge if they wanted to join.”

“Cocky prick,” you scoff, “I bet I could take you.”

Something in his demeanor changes. His eyes darken and a playful grin pulls at his lips. All the pet names, sneaking up on you, making you blush. He’s been flirting… might as well flirt back.

“That so, princess?”

You want to backstep. You should backstep— but damn, playing with fire never seemed so fun.

“Yeah, I do think so.” You cross your arms, a playful challenge.

“And what makes you say that?” He steps closer, you don’t back down.

“I’ve met a lot of men that think they’re hot shit. Men that need to be knocked down a peg. I don’t mind being the one to do it. They always walk away with their tail between their legs.”

Something in his eyes darkens as he crowds you against the wall. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. He leans down.

“Sounds like a lot of boys to me.” he nearly growls. “You’ve put a lot of boys in their place, princess?”

“Only when they deserve it.”

A deep hum of approval rumbles in his throat. The feralness of his tone awakens something inside of you. It stirs in your belly and shoots between your legs.

You’re playing a very dangerous game but can’t seem to help yourself— not with Logan.

Suddenly, he pulls away, all of the air you were holding in your lungs going with him.

“Hank.” He grumbles under his breath as he steps away.

Sure enough, the big blue man himself rounds the corner, several scattered papers and blueprints in hand.

“My dear, there you are!” Beast walks directly between you and Logan, completely unaware of the tension he’s breaking. “I wanted to discuss some foundational plans with you for the new win,” he places a hand on your back and gently starts guiding you down the hallway. “If you’ll excuse us, Logan.”

“Sure, bub,” you catch a glimpse of Logan scowling over your shoulder, “Do whatcha gotta do.”

________________

Days. It’s been days since you’ve seen him. It’s been days since you’ve seen much of anyone, really.

Scott had everyone on high alert since the evening of your hangover. More activity was detected around the Trask extremist's now not-so-hidden hideout. Charles has been on the phone with any government official he can and the rest of the gang has been on around-the-clock reconnaissance. Thank god the only thing the US government hates more than mutants is domestic terrorism. If they can solve this amicably and quietly, they will.

And you just keep digging your holes in the ground.

You finished the tunnels yesterday, both far longer than the previous ones were. One exiting over half a mile to the West and another to the East. All that was left were the gardens now.

It was the work that would take the longest anyway. They had to be sculpted meticulously, level, and somewhat aesthetic looking. Much harder than just boring a hole into the ground. Things that looked beautiful required more focus and time, that’s true with anything. You had a little less than a week to finish the job. Then… you’re not sure. Just go back to your regular life, you suppose.

Do you really want to go back?

The question continuously repeats in your head as you try your best to focus on leveling the dirt beneath your palms. This job back at your school did not go as planned— at all. You thought you could do this quickly without drawing in the guilt. Quick in and out then back to your mediocre career and lackluster social life. In hindsight, you feel like a fool for thinking you could do this without old feelings stirring up. Feelings that weren’t nearly as bitter as you thought they were. Charles mentioned in passing how he’d like to start a new environmental science course, they’re just having trouble finding someone who has time. A trap, surely. Jean did say your thoughts are very loud lately, the professor’s no doubt overheard your inner conflict.

This thing with Logan wasn’t helping either.

Nothing more than lust, you think. Carnal desires stirring for someone mysterious. A bad boy. A rogue. If you were younger you would have already found him late one night and jumped his bones. For some reason that felt… trashy. That and Scott’s had the man on call constantly. Even though he’s made it clear the feeling is mutual, you don’t want to necessarily piss where you lay. But that would only matter if you stayed.

You want him. You want him bad and you're being skittish about it because you don’t want to fuck up the dynamics of the team… because you want to stay.

You want to stay.

The roar of the Blackbird coming into land sends your ears ringing. They’re back from their latest reconnaissance mission. The sun was going to set within the hour. Your work would be done for the day and everyone would be home—everyone including him.

You have no idea what you’ll do but… something. Tell Charles and Scott you want to stay? Finally pounce on Logan? Or just hide away in your room— that seems most likely.

Unfortunately, the choice is made for you.

“Still no flowers planted yet?” the sweet rumble of Logan’s voice pricks the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Tomorrow maybe. Almost done with the beds,” you say as casually as possible. He comes to stand at the top tier of the garden several feet above you. He’s changed out of his uniform and you’re still in your 2 day old work clothes. Why does he keep finding you when you’re completely covered in dirt?

“Nice shirt,” he nods towards you.

You look down at your grime-covered torso. You’d put on his flannel this morning. Why in God's name did you do that?

“Yeah some fella from the bar left it in my room,” you joke as you make your way up to him. “Sorry, musta just grabbed it without thinking.”

“I don’t mind. Suits you,” he reaches out, helping you up the final step. He pauses, just for a moment. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

And there’s that awkward little silence brewing again you're both so good at. He’s desperately the person you want to see and the last person you want to talk to at the same time. Still, he sought you out first— and that meant something.

You both decide to break the silence at once.

“I’m sorry I’ve been—”

“Would you wanna get you another—”

Were you always this bad at this or is it just him?

He chuckles, scratching the back of his head, “Got a little break in the action. Was wondering if I… could get you another drink?”

Your entire body screams no but your stupid heart is pounding yes. Maybe if you take it easy this time you’ll be fine. You actually remembered to eat today so that’s working in your favor.

“I’m not sure I can show my face at Stevie’s again.” You joke.

“Nah, not that dump. " He turns and starts walking back to the mansion, “somewhere much more local this time.”

_______________

The sun is just starting to kiss the treeline when you settle into your seat. You promised to start a fire in the pit and Logan promised to bring the beer. It at least gave you a little time to get rid of all the dirt that was caking you head to toe. Sharing a drink while watching the sunset on the back porch with a bonfire. You don’t think he intended for it to be as romantic as it was, but you can’t say you really mind.

Logan comes through the sliding door, six-pack in hand. You don’t even get a word out before he’s already offering an opened bottle.

“Maybe take it easy this time,” he smirks.

“Mm, maybe you should have got me a juice box instead if you’re so worried.”

“Oh, and here I thought you were a tough girl.”

Jesus fucking christ.

You accept the beer and dare not make eye contact.

“Cheeky ass,” you attempt to shoot back, taking a heavy swig from the bottle.

He takes a seat next to you on the bench with a heavy groan. “I’ve been called worse.”

You don’t doubt it. You were calling him worse barely a week ago. Now you’re sharing a drink at sunset with him? Well, another drink.

“How was the mission?”

He just grunts in response, leaning over his knees to peer into the fire, “Fucking annoying.”

“The bad guys or Scott?”

“Both,” He huffed a laugh, taking a swig from his bottle. “Just gettin’ impatient is all. Summers has us all waitin’ for the right moment. Can’t let them know we’re watching. Probably the right call with guys like these. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, tough guy.”

Your heart isn’t racing as much now. The air between you is getting lighter by the second. This wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t so bad. Not entirely the gruff and tough guy you made him out to be.

He could have marched right up to you and asked you to come up to his room, and you would have said yes. You could have come banging on his door one night for a quick fuck, but you didn’t. There was that desire here, but there was something else building too. You wanted to know him. He seemed to want to know you too.

You want to stay.

“You miss it?”

“What?” the question catches you off guard.

“The X-Men. Being an X-man.” Logan clarifies, “Do you miss it?”

It's a loaded question, one you might have answered differently a few weeks ago.

“Yes.”

He’s just as surprised by your bluntness as you are.

“Why leave then?” he prods a little further.

You want to know him, he wants to know you.

“I wanted to see if I could do it. Just… be a person. Free to just exist in the world, ya know?” you instinctively curl your legs into your chest. “And I guess I did it, in a way. I’m not struggling, a business owner with steady work, but that doesn’t change the way they look at me. They want what I can do. I’m a one-man construction crew. Cheaper and faster, but still just a mutant, someone you pay under the table. I guess I forgot I couldn’t really change anyone's mind either.”

He lets your little confession linger for a moment before speaking again.

“Fuck ‘em.”

You raise a brow.

“Fuck ‘em. Never thought it was much worth being part of anyway.”

Guess you’re not the only blunt one here.

You unfurl your legs, stretching your feet out to the edge of the fire. You wish you’d kicked off your work boots earlier.

“What about you, Wolverine? Do you like being an X-man?”

“Tch, now ain’t that a big question.” He raises the bottle to his lips.

“So you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.” the bottle lowers.

“You don’t seem to say much about yourself.” You’re baiting him, just a little.

“Fair enough,” he concedes with a sigh, “I do. I like bein’ here, bein’ part of something, but it's got its own challenges. I’ve got my own challenges. Demons like everyone else. Guess that’s how we all ended up here, isn’t it? Fucked up as that is.”

He’s a man of few words, but each of them is spot on. You’re only here because you were running, just like everyone else.

“So is that a yes—” you tease.

His knee knocks against yours with a chuckle, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

His thigh doesn’t move away, resting lazily against yours. You swear you can feel his body heat radiating up your whole leg.

“Would you come back?” He turns the conversation back to you again.

“I… I don’t know yet,” you admit.

“Yet?”

“I don’t know if they’d take me. If Charles would—I’ve been—”

“They would.” his blunt candor cuts through your insecurity like a knife. Logan is a man who only seems to say what he means, and that’s comforting, strangely enough. “I don’t know much about it, but family is family. All you gotta do is ask with this crowd.”

A reassuring heat creeps into your cheeks at his words. You know he’s right. The only one you need to convince is yourself now.

“Yeah,” you thumb at the neck of your beer, long forgotten and surely completely warmed through by now. You set it on the ground, “I might…I might just ask.”

You feel him shift, leaning in closer to you. You finally turn your eyes from the dancing fire and face him. His normally hardened face is so… soft.

“I wouldn’t mind keepin’ you around if you did.”

The kiss is gentle at first, to your surprise. Both of you lean into it almost nervously, as if asking permission. When neither of you pulls away he’s the first to go deeper, cradling your head in his freehand. You melt into him. His mouth opens against yours, tongue seeking your own. You let him in gladly. The sensation of his stubble against your cheeks makes your hair stand on end. A deep moan growls up from his throat and sends shockwaves through your whole body. Your thighs clench together almost on instinct.

He’s the first to pull away, but still hovering close enough for your noses to brush.

“Come to my room tonight.” You find yourself asking through heated breath.

“Why not right now?” his hand roams down from your neck to your hip. You want this, god you really want this. But…

“Please grant me the decency of a shower, Logan,” You worry for a split second your stupid mouth has ruined the moment, but he huffs out a small laugh with that unmistakable smirk.

“Me or you?” he leans to the side, nose grazing your neck.

“B-both.”

“Smell pretty good to me, darlin’.” You feel his breath dancing on your skin, a few small pecks left along your shoulder.

“Logan…”

“I like that,” He comes back up to face you, eyes blown wide with desire, “I like the way you say my name.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” You can’t help but rake your free hand through his hair. It’s softer than you expected.

“Can’t have that. Not when you just decided to come back,” He gives your hip a final squeeze and steals another quick kiss before leaning back. “You wanna wait, we’ll wait.”

Suddenly you regret your shower request.

You sigh, dropping your head to his shoulder “It’s been a long day… few days.”

“I can relate,” his hand rakes over your back. “Probably gonna be called out again in 10 minutes anyway.”

“Any progress?”

“We’re close, whatever that means,” you can hear the irritation in his voice. You can’t blame him, the whole team was constantly coming and going the last week.

They’d have a lead and it’d fizzle out. Even Ceribro was having trouble tracking them. You overheard Jean and Charles discussing the possibility of them possessing physic-blocking technology. Enemies had gotten their hands on weirder things.

“What was it like… when you were on the team?” he asks. Well, if you weren’t going to jump into each other’s pants right away, might as well keep up with the fireside pleasantries— not that you minded.

“Smaller. Much smaller.” You snort, “We didn’t have a direct line to the president, that’s for sure. Mostly breaking up small-time mutant-related gang violence. Saving kids. Erik would show up every once in a while with some new lackeys. Nothing like what he tried on Liberty Island.”

“You heard about Liberty Island?”

“Jean told me,” It was all over the news too, some important details left out, of course. “She told me it was your first mission with the team too.”

“Hell of a first mission.” he takes a heavy swig of his mostly untouched beer. “What was yours?”

“Child rescue,” You don’t even have to think about it, the night is still imprinted on your mind, “A dozen mutant kids were being held in some dirty warehouse in Long Island. They were gonna be sold off to some private warlords or some shit, I don’t like to think about what could have happened. We got them out, that’s what matters.”

You pull away from him, your previously warm mood now soured by no fault of your own. Thankfully, Logan doesn’t seem offended.

“Why do I feel like that’s not the whole story?” He takes a cautious sip, raising his brow.

He’s right.

“Do you actually wanna hear it?” You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He nods.

“I told you I was an angry kid. I was an angry X-Man too,” you remember the close calls that night, “Seeing those kids like that… it reminded me of… it was too much. If I get too mad, buildings fall down. Foundations crack. We got the kids out while the roof was coming down.”

You thought you were so ready for the field. What a mistake that was. Charles and the team never shamed you but there was always this look in their eyes. Like they were waiting for you to go off again. You kept a tighter hold on it after that night. You let yourself lose control before, you don’t want to do it again. Keeping it in keeps people safe.

“You don’t seem so angry to me, sweetheart.”

“Years of practice.” you give a faux smile, a pit of regret forming in your stomach for oversharing— again.

“You’ll have to give me lessons sometime,” he nudges at your shoulder. Despite it all, he’s still smiling at you.

“You’re a good listener, Logan.” you smile back.

“Gotta be when you don’t have much of your own story to tell.” he shrugs off the small compliment.

“What happens in your story, bub?” you joke, praying he might share just a little.

He leans forward over his knees. His deep brown eyes stare blankly into the fire like he’s searching for something. He said there’s missing parts. He said he doesn’t remember much.

“I don’t know it all yet.” is his disappointing answer, “It was… taken from me. Charles is helping me find the missing pieces. I want to tell you, I do, but I want all the pieces back first.”

You desperately want to ask him to elaborate. Memories taken from him? Missing time the Professor was helping him get back. That had to be part of the reason he stayed here. To get back who he was.

Still, you won’t push.

“All good stories are worth waiting for, I hear,” you give him an assuring smile. He thankfully smiles back, placing a warm hand on your thigh. Something about him, something about Logan just made this all so… easy.

“You could tell me yours while we wait?” He asks, orange lights dancing over his soft expression. “How did Dozer become an X-Man?”

“It’s… not a happy story.” You bite your lip.

“Neither is mine.”

You look back at the fire, his warm eyes suddenly too much to bear looking at. Were you really going to do this? You barely know him.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

But you do want to, and that’s the surprising part. You don’t know why, but you want to tell him about the darkest part of your life. It’s been so long since you’ve said any of it out loud, maybe you need to get it out. Maybe he’d understand. Maybe you’ll scare him away. Maybe you just want him to know what the fuck he’s getting into.

You take a deep breath.

“My powers manifested when I was ten. Was playing in the backyard with my brothers and suddenly we had a new sinkhole. Broke one of their ankles. I don’t think they ever stopped being afraid of me after that. My father was afraid at first too. Tried to cover it up, told me not to make any new friends, to keep to myself in school. It went on like that for a few months until… until everything changed.”

You’ve tried so hard to forget these few years of your life. At the same time, they seem to be all you can think of late at night. It’s what you’ve been running away from your whole life.

You’ve told so few people this story, and now you’re telling Logan. He sits there quietly, a supportive heavy hand on your thigh and kindness in his stern eyes.

He wanted to know you.

“Like I said before, my father was a career army man. I think he loved it more than us. I know he loved it more than me. I don’t know how he heard about it but the military wanted mutants. Secret programs within secret programs. A once in a lifetime opportunity for him. I was his ticket in.”

You feel Logan’s grip tighten.

“He didn’t give me to them completely at first. Made me do tryouts I guess. Took me to some base and made me show a bunch of old men in nice suits what I could do. Did that a few times. It was slow at first. Taken out of school. Brothers stopped talking to me. Told to practice more. At first, it was once a week, then it was more, then he just left me there.

“I was scared the first night. I was only twelve but I was smart enough to know where this would all lead. I knew my father didn’t love me anymore. I knew they’d do horrible things to me. I broke out. They caught me within 24 hours and scrambled to find a prison I couldn’t break out of again. Where do you keep a child that can move bricks and concrete like toys? One day, I just woke up in a room of metal. They hid me away in some deployed battleship. Never learned where or what the name was. There were others there too I think, but I can’t be sure. They couldn’t trust me, but maybe they thought they could train me. Make me a soldier. Break me.”

Funny how these words come out so easily. You recite them in an almost sterile way. Maybe you needed to say them again. Needed someone else to know. You feel Logan’s eyes boring into you, but you don’t dare meet his gaze. Not while there’s more to say.

“I think I was on that ship for almost a year. When they started talking about taking me to another facility ‘with the others’ I knew I had to get out somehow. I played along, became docile, whatever they wanted so long as they would let their guard down. I’d be shipped out to the mountains in Canada, they said. When we docked I could finally feel earth again for the first time in months. Even from inside my little cell, I was close enough to summon something… anything.

“I put a hole in the ship with a few bricks from the pier. One hole became dozens. I didn’t stop until the hull was more air than metal. The boat sank at port and I was able to escape in the commotion. We were in New Jersey. In 6 months I got to Chicago and that’s where Charles found me.”

The sun has completely set but for a few stray ribbons of orange in the sky. The crackling of the dying fire was deafening between you two. You finally look back to Logan. You can’t read his face. It’s not blank or shocked like most people were after your sad story.

His next words shock you.

“The Weapon X program,” it comes out so quietly, “You were… oh my God, you were in the Weapon X program.”

It’d been so long since you’d heard that goddamn name.

You draw away from him immediately, betrayal muting over all of your other feelings. He knew.

“Charles told you, didn’t he? You let me drone on while—.”

“No! No, he—” Logan bites out, hands closing into fists. The knuckles whiten instantly. “Chuck never told me.”

“Then how do you know that name? How do you know what Weapon X is?” You spit the words with venom, your defenses are immediately put back into place. He knew something. He knew something about you this whole damn time.

Yet, he looks so small. Shoulders slouched down, defenseless. Eyes wide with what almost felt like compassion.

“Logan… were you… were you in Weapon X?”

He looks down at his hands resting on his lap, squeezing his fists one last time before releasing them. As his fingers unfurl his claws slowly unsheath, lazily crossing over each other on his lap. It could almost be perceived as a threat, but that’s not what he’s doing. It’s like he’s showing you something.

“Darlin’... I am Weapon X.”

__________

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