#Echo is the man no matter what shape he's in | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 1 month ago

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➽ summary: To love is to cherish, to endure, to fight. But to love is also to forget—at least, for you and Logan. Despite countless attempts to erase the part of yourselves that yearns to find completion in each other, you always end up back where it all began: the moment your eyes first met his—the moment everything changed.

➽ word count: 12.4k words

➽ warnings/tags: mdni smut 18+ angst. fluff. feels. enemies to lovers. petnames. multiple focalizors/POVs. memory loss. x1 logan. mutant!reader. flashbacks. dirty talk. oral (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. unprotected p in v. missionary. doggy. creampie. cum swallowing.

➽ a/n: inspired by “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind”, one of the most hauntingly beautiful (and life-changing) films ever made. i took some creative liberties when it came to charles' powers, so just follow along. i’d love to know your thoughts on this one, hope you like it as much as i do! <3

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned.

Alexander Pope.

Logan thinks Jean is speaking to him, but her words dissolve into fragments, lost before they reach him. Her reddish lips shape the vowels and consonants with precision, yet the meaning is drowned out by the pulse in his ears. She’s agitated, her long strides barely matching his pace, heels striking the wooden floor in a staccato rhythm.

A few children peek their heads out from their rooms, curiosity tugging at their expressions as the tension unravels in the hallway. Had it always stretched this far into eternity? It feels as though he’s been walking it for centuries now.

If Jean Grey is the embodiment of grace and intellect, then Logan carries the weight of all the world’s stubbornness. It clings to him like a birthright. Defying her beliefs—or anyone’s—is as instinctual as breathing. She’s trying to dissuade him, to talk him out of this reckless act: asking Charles to meddle in what she’s called his personal issues. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, focusing instead on the steady cadence of his steps toward the man’s office, each one heavier with purpose.

Jean’s voice grows sharper, her warnings echoing in his mind. This is a mistake. You’ll regret it. You’ll want to undo it. Don’t be stupid, Logan. Don’t do this to her—don’t do this to yourself.

But her protests are futile. The cards have already been laid out. Only meters from the door, he comes to a sudden halt. Jean, caught mid-stride, almost stumbles into his back. For a fleeting moment, hope flickers across her face. Maybe, just maybe, she’s convinced him to reconsider. A tentative smile begins to form on her lips, until he turns to her with a look so unyielding, it steals the breath from her lungs.

She has never seen him like this. This resolute, this… haunted. His jaw is clenched, his brow furrowed so tightly it seems etched in stone. There’s no trace of relief or satisfaction in his expression. Only the grim determination of a man about to pass a point of no return.

Why is he doing this? Soon, there will be hands prying into his thoughts, a marauder pulling apart his memories. Think about her. Now think about this moment. What do you remember? Each memory bearing your name, inked into his unconscious, will be inspected, cataloged, and then erased.

A mind already scarred will be stripped even further, the void swallowing everything. It has to come from a place of self-loathing, he thinks, because no reasonable explanation suffices. Perhaps he’s always been this broken, this damaged, and it was only a matter of time before he sought refuge in the very solution that had once been his calvary.

“I’ve made my choice,” he says with a tilt of his head which aims to deliver a tacit message: stay back. Don’t follow me. I have to do this. I need to.

So this is what it feels like, he thinks to himself, to willingly want to forget, to crave oblivion. To stop caring.

His fist hovers over the door, but he doesn’t have to knock. Charles’s been waiting for him. His voice resonates behind Logan’s eyelids, calm and inescapable. Come in.

“Coward.”

That’s the last thing he hears before he steps into the office, leaving her behind.

The first time you saw him, he was a contained storm, seconds away from coming undone in front of a rather small audience. Hardly the most convenient introduction.

You were in Charles’ office, attending one of his Physics lessons—not because you needed to. He’d already taught you these principles long ago, in a different time, under different circumstances. But lately, Charles had been trying to delegate some of his responsibilities, hoping to carve out time for the pressing matters that demanded his full attention. Ever the sweetheart, you’d offered to help, stepping in to take over this class.

Which is why you spent those past few weeks studying him—not just his teaching style, but the way he presented the topics: the analogies he drew, the subtle inflections in his tone. You’d promised yourself perfection, committed to live up to his standard, and that was exactly what you were working toward.

The sound of a door slamming shattered the flow of the lesson. A man burst into the room as though escaping from some unseen predator, shutting the door with a loud, final thud. He didn’t turn to face you. Instead, he lingered by the door, chest pressed against it, his ragged breathing filling the silence. The students abandoned whatever fragments of attention they had left for the class—this new stranger was far more compelling.

And, truthfully, he’d caught your attention, too.

You hesitated, fists clenching slightly at your sides, bracing for something you couldn’t name. A familiar voice cut through your thoughts, grounding you: This is the man I’ve been telling you about.

Apparently, this was Logan Howlett in the flesh. You certainly didn’t expect Charles’ newest recruit to look like this.

“Good morning, Logan,” Charles greeted him when the man finally spun around. From this distance, you could see the tension carved into his features, the crease in his forehead betraying his distress. Charles, still composed, redirected his focus to the students. “I’d like your definitions of weak and strong anthropic principles on my desk on Wednesday, all right? That’ll be all.”

They didn’t need to be told twice, gathering their belongings in a flurry of notebooks and murmured goodbyes, barely sparing you a glance as they shuffled out. You offered them a tight-lipped smile, lifting a hand in acknowledgment, but your attention was drawn elsewhere. Logan was looking at you—or rather, through you—with a gaze that felt assessing. You never quite met his eye.

He stood there barefoot, dressed only in a sweater and sweatpants, his breath still uneven. Disoriented. His eyes swept across the room, his expression distant yet guarded, as though he was questioning the reality of it all. Considering the way he carried himself, it almost seemed like this was his first encounter with other mutants—but you knew better.

At some point, Charles decided to break the tension. “I’m Charles Xavier,” he began, his tone inviting. “Would you like some breakfast?”

But, of course, his cordiality and kindness were dismissed, being met with a gruff, “Where am I?”

“Westchester, New York,” Charles replied evenly, maneuvering his wheelchair closer. “You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention.”

You hadn’t been part of the mission that led to this moment; that had been Scott and Storm. In fact, you hadn’t even met Logan or the girl they’d brought with him—Rogue, as you later learned. Although at the time, rooted in the aftermath, you stepped forward, bridging the distance between yourself and Logan. You extended a hand toward him, offering your name with a cautious smile. “Nice to meet you.”

The gesture lingered awkwardly in the air, refusing even the pretense of acknowledgment. His eyes locked on yours, piercing and unrelenting, and for a brief moment, you wondered if this was his way of dissecting you. Then his gaze shifted back to Charles, impatience dripping from every word he uttered. “I don’t need medical attention. Where’s the girl?”

Oh. So that’s how he wants to play this. You withdrew your hand, doing your best to mask the sting of rejection as you pivoted on your heels and returned to your place beside Charles. “Jerk,” you muttered, low enough that it almost drowned beneath your breath, fussing with your sleeves in a vain effort to seem unaffected.

He didn’t miss it. His expression hardened, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Come again?”

To end the exchange right there, Charles cleared his throat, effectively steering the conversation into a different direction. Seizing the opportunity, he wheeled himself closer to the brown-haired man, his composure intact. What you admired about him was his self-control, something you’d tried to master in the years spent under his guidance without success. Yet, you couldn’t fathom how he managed not to tell Logan to just fuck off. “About Rogue, she’s doing fine.”

Logan arched a brow, his sneer cutting through the air like a blade. “Really?” You couldn’t grasp how he could hold so much bitterness toward a person he barely knew. His voice was thick with condescension, and a dozen sharp retorts swirled in your mind, each one eager to escape your lips. Your mouth parted to respond on Charles’ behalf, but he beat you to it.

“You’re in my school for the gifted. For mutants.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the dense air. Even the act of breathing felt strained, a soundless tug-of-war for the air around you. “You do know you’re not the only one with gifts, don’t you?”

“Is that what you tell those kids?” Logan’s scoff was a window into his beliefs. “That they have gifts?”

“It’s no more than the truth.”

“Yeah? Truth my ass.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The words escaped you before you could stop them, fury flaring in your chest. You stepped forward, the crackling heat of frustration coursing through your veins, ending in your fingertips. His blank stare only fanned the flames. “We took you in. We saved your life. How about showing a little fucking gratitude?”

Logan advanced, and his eyes bored into yours with a stinging glint of smugness. “I don’t remember asking to be saved.”

Your jaw tightened. You could’ve cracked a tooth as well. “Well, the least you can do is not act like a complete prick.”

A hand encircled your wrist, its grip firm but soothing. Charles’ touch anchored you, grounding you back in the moment. Your breath faltered, tearing your gaze away from Logan’s eyes to meet Charles’ calm expression.

“Don’t be so hard on our guest, my dear,” he murmured, as if the hostility in the room didn’t exist. It could’ve also been that he was too practiced at disarming it. He didn’t bother to glance at Logan, speaking as though the man was just a shadow. “Give him some time. He needs it.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you bowed your head. You sidestepped Logan without another word, avoiding his presence like he was a flame that threatened to scorch. The tension clung to your skin, and you flung the room.

From that day on, Logan becomes the only subject you seem capable of discussing.

It’s everything about him—his walk, his voice, the sheer audacity of his existence—that drives you to the brink of madness. You tell yourself to let it go, to not let it eat away at you, but your mind refuses to cooperate. Each day, it does a stellar job of reminding you that you now share the same roof as a man with forks for hands.

Logan is, undeniably, the source of your every frustration.

“He’s an idiot,” you grumble around a bite of your lunch, settling into one of the chairs in the kitchen. Scott, Ororo, and Jean are gathered around the table with you, savoring a rare break before the afternoon classes pull them back into their routines. “I can confirm it.”

“Trust me, we know,” Ororo snaps, her tone more cutting than you expected. The words catch you off guard, and you pause, napkin halfway to your lips, to lift your eyebrows in surprise. “Look, I’m sorry,” she continues, her voice softening just a fraction, “but could you please talk about something else? It’s been Logan this, Logan that, for weeks now.”

“I think I understand what she means,” Scott chimes in, his tone lighter, nearly playful. You lift your hand for a high five, and he obliges with a grin, stealing a laugh from you.

“See? He gets it!”

Leaning back in his chair, your friend shakes his head. “I must admit I don't like the guy either. He’s—”

Jean’s elbow shoots out, jabbing Scott in the ribs just as Logan crosses the kitchen threshold. Scott’s indignant “Hey!” is muffled by your exaggerated cough, though it does little to mask the smirk threatening to break across your face.

How does the saying go? Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Logan’s eyes sweep across the room, his silence louder than the faint hum of the refrigerator. He strides toward the cupboard with methodical ease, and Storm bites her lip to stifle a laugh once she catches you watching him far longer than you should have. His back muscles tense and flex as he stretches his arms, the white tank clinging tighter with every movement.

“Please, don’t stop talking just because of me,” he remarks, his voice gravelly as he rummages through the cupboard, his focus presumably on some elusive snack. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Your response comes out of instinct, words laced with irritation. “It’s hard not to,” you retort curtly, putting down your sandwich with a firm slap of your palms against your jeans.

That gets his attention. Logan turns around to confront you, a flicker of amusement twitching at the edges of his mouth. It’s that toothy smile of his that sets your blood simmering. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You jump to your feet, matching his intensity. “Such a pity I can’t say the same about you.” Without missing a beat, you step closer, snatching the bag of chips he’s holding. Hiding them behind your back, tilting your head in mock innocence, and then saying, “Oops.”

His brows draw upward, though his tone stays measured, as if speaking to a child. “C’mon,” he replies, making a half-hearted grab for the bag. “How old are you? Twelve?”

Unable to suppress the grin threatening to break free, you rest your back against the counter. “We both know you can do much better than that.”

Already preparing yourself for the lecture Ororo’s going to unload on you the moment he leaves, you watch as Logan exhales sharply. His irritation is palpable in the way he leans in, one hand planting itself on the counter behind you, his frame eclipsing yours. The proximity is electric, his scent, a mix of leather and something woodsy, fogging your senses. Hazel eyes, so deep you could drown in them, peer down at you, as he attempts to strip away every layer you’re desperately trying to hold together.

Safe to say, it’s working. Damn it.

“Alright,” he finally says, tapping his fingers against the cool surface. “What do you want from me?”

Your galloping heartbeat is a major detail you choose to ignore, instead turning to the others for support. With an exaggerated motion, you point to each of your friends in turn. “Ororo and Scott were the ones who found you that day,” you start, trailing off, “and Jean ran a ton of tests on you to make sure you were okay. Have you even bothered to thank them for their hospitality?”

You believe you can joke with him—it’s how you usually bond with others, how most of your friendships have started. But you can’t help questioning if Logan can even get your sense of humor. The room falls silent, and his eyes flicker, just briefly, to your friends.

“You’re right, you’re right. My bad, princess.” One of his big, manly lands on your shoulder, the pressure of it too casual, too familiar, working the muscle there. Your fingers slacken around the bag of chips, the feeling of his touch making it harder to maintain your grip. “Guys, I’m deeply sorry for my lack of amiability. Hope you can forgive me.” The sarcasm is thick in his voice, but it’s the sensation that clings to you, that doesn’t seem to fade—the warmth of it seeping through the layers of your clothes, pressing into your skin, stubbornly refusing to fade.

His hand leaves only when he yanks the bag from your grasp, and the warmth that had been just beside you evaporates with his retreat. In an instant, he’s already pulling away, his parting words a careless “See you around,” tossed over his shoulder.

No one dares to speak after that. Because to speak would be to acknowledge what has just happened. Your stomach has turned into a knot, that kind of knot sailors make that are impossible for beginners to undo. Logan’s fingers left a burn in your shoulder. Can you still smell him, the trail he left? Scott is the first to speak after a minute or so. “What… was that?”

“I have no clue,” Jean says between bites, staring reflectively at you. “Care to elaborate?”

Your tongue feels heavy, your throat parched. Even if you tried, a rational explanation wouldn’t come.

Ever since you were a child, you had yearned to grow up, to experience love as only adults could. In your young, unformed mind, it all seemed like a simple equation: adults dated; adults embraced love in the flesh; adults reveled in freedoms that children could only dream of, waiting patiently for their time to come.

And you did grow up. You did fall in love. But now he’s forgotten you, and nothing could have prepared you for that kind of ending. It wasn’t the closure you would have chosen, not the goodbye you imagined for you and Logan.

You find yourself caught in the in-between—not quite a child, yet not fully an adult either. Because surely, an adult would know how to handle this pain. An adult would find a way to cope. But you feel small. Weak. Hopeless.

It leaves you wondering just how much you are willing to forsake.

More weeks go by, and Logan remains in the mansion, defying the departure you’d expected. Part of you is relieved. He moves through the halls like a shadow, his eyes always on Rogue: checking on her, observing her interactions with the rest of the students at the mansion. She’s thriving, really. Blending in with her peers, forming bonds, especially with a boy named Billy. They are quite the pair.

Yet, despite Rogue’s happiness, Logan can’t seem to shake the grim air that surrounds him, an aura that emanates a quiet kind of disgust.

One night, you’re flipping through channels in the living room, stopping when an old love movie catches your attention. You place the remote down on a cushion, and pull your knees up to your chest, the murmur of the characters’ voices the only sound in the otherwise hushed room. You don’t think anyone else is awake at this hour.

“Can’t sleep?”

There he is again. Always intruding, always finding his way back to you. The predator creeping into the vixen’s nest. He moves closer, slowly, and you lift your gaze to him, replying, “Actually, I’m a sleepwalker.”

Your comment earns a half-smile from Logan as he drops onto the couch beside you, his leg brushing against yours momentarily, worn denim against bare skin. His attention shifts to the TV, to the grainy images of the film playing out. You steal a glance at him, tracing the hard lines of his side profile.

“Feelin’ romantic tonight?” he asks.

“Not precisely,” you retort, fingers toying with the frayed edges of the blanket pooled at your feet. “There’s nothing else on. Sometimes you have to make do with what’s there.” Your gaze drifts back to him, lingering just a second too long before you add, “What about you? Any ghosts keeping you up?”

“You could call them that,” he says after a pause, his face still angled away. It must be easier to speak to you with this thin, invisible wall between you. “I have nightmares.”

“So you’re the one screaming at two in the morning?”

“Exactly. That’s me.” He ends up meeting your gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, harboring an emotion he doesn’t voice. “M’sorry if I ever woke you up.”

“I’m usually awake at that time, too.” Your eyes flick to the screen. The couple in the movie bursts out of a building into the rain, their body language unmistakably revealing the heated argument unfolding between them. The man, clad in a raincoat, removes it to cover the woman, his supposed girlfriend. She’s visibly upset, but accepts the gesture nevertheless. “You can always knock on my door if you need anything. Unless I’m snoring—then I’ll be useless.”

Logan clicks his tongue, his focus shifting to the film as well. The man shouts, ‘Because I love you, for God’s sake!’ He casts a glimpse in your direction, his expression unreadable. “Same goes for you.” The woman in the film responds with a strangled, ‘Then prove it!’

“Anytime?”

“Anytime.”

The man cradles the woman’s face before kissing her. She throws her arms around his neck, and the music swells, evolving into a much more melodic song. A chorus of angelic voices replaces the earlier tense harmony. The camera lingers on every angle of their kiss, every desperate touch, as the world outside their embrace ceases to exist.

“This is cheesy,” Logan mutters, his heel bumping against the floor in repeated, short motions. Is he nervous?

“Yeah, so cheesy,” you reply quickly, pulling the blanket over your lap and curling into yourself. He doesn’t look like he’s thinking about kissing you, not even remotely, but you are.

A quiet yawn escapes you, and you rub your fist against your eyes, sleep beginning to take over your body. Logan catches it, his own yawn following like a reflex. “Looks like the movie’s workin’ wonders,” he quips.

You let out a drowsy giggle. “Shut up,” you murmur, but then he’s inching closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. His warmth seeps through, and after a few seconds of hesitation, you allow yourself to lean into his frame, resting your head on his arm. It’s awkward, your neck already protesting the angle, but you accept it. You’ll take the stiffness tomorrow without complaint, because this moment is worth it.

It won’t last long, though, this rare tenderness. These nights, the quiet ones, are when Logan opens up the most—when Jean and Storm aren’t around, when it’s just the two of you. That’s when he approaches you, like a wary black cat testing the waters. But he doesn’t need to tread carefully. Not with you.

“What if I were to fall asleep… hypothetically?” Your eyelids grow heavier with each blink, the pauses between each one stretching longer. Your cheek nuzzles against him, seeking warmth, and you feel the subtle tug of his hand as he pulls the blanket over his legs as well.

“Hypothetically,” he begins, rasping his words near your temple, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Within moments, sleep claims you. You never find out what happens after that, but he stays, trailing quietly behind. No nightmares or shadows from his past dare to haunt him that night.

It was inevitable that an encounter like that would spiral into something more. You weren’t naïve. You could connect the dots, and the picture was clear: Logan wanted you, too. Desire often walked a fine line, and from hatred to something else, it’s hardly a leap—just a small, barely perceptible step. It could change with the shift of light, from dawn to dusk. But you’d need the strength to cross that line, to be bold enough to make the first move.

And now, with the sun already dipped below the horizon, taking its long-awaited rest after a full day of burning up in the sky, you find yourself alone in the kitchen, though you hadn’t started that way. Scott had lingered for a while, insisting he didn’t mind keeping you company. You’d thanked him with a polite smile before subtly nudging him out. It hadn’t taken much—just a few hints. Simplicity at its finest.

At the table, a neat pile of student papers spreads before you. Your pen dances across the pages, leaving corrections and grades in its wake. It’s then that he appears. He doesn’t speak at first, but his presence saturates the room like a shadow stretching across the floor. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him; it must be the unspoken familiarity of how he fills a space. Or maybe it’s just how attuned you’ve become to his every movement.

Logan leans in behind you, close enough that you feel the heat he radiates at your back. His low hum sends a shiver down your spine as he peers over your shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late to be playin’ the teacher?”

Your grip on the pen tightens, a small tremor in your fingers giving away the tension pooling in your stomach. You exhale softly, blowing on the fresh ink. “Would you prefer to have me doing something else?”

Smugness prickles at the edges of your words, but the resolve in your chest is faltering.

“Now that you mention it…” His voice dips, grating next to the shell of your ear as his chest brushes your back. His presence is magnetic, the scrape of his beard scratching your skin while he tilts your head to one side. His fingers sweep your hair over your shoulder, lips mapping the nape of your neck, tasting your fevered skin. “I might have a few ideas in mind.”

Your breath hitches. You try for composure, but it wavers in your reply. “Really?” you ask, because playing dumb always has its merits, after all. “Want to show me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His hand moves deliberately, tracing a sensual, teasing path up your abdomen. His palm settles over one of your breasts, his thumb brushing the sensitive peak through your sweater. “I don’t think you’d want me to do it here,” he says, his voice thick with suggestion. “Too public for what I’ve got planned for you.”

You disentangle yourself from him, slipping off the chair with an unsteady grace, but Logan doesn’t give you time to find your feet. He smashes his lips with yours, the force of his kiss almost sending you reeling. His tongue presses insistently, seeking entry, as if the urgency in his touch could dissolve every barrier between you. He grabs your cheeks, holding you in place as though you might slip away, drawing you so close there’s barely space to breathe.

You’re caught off guard, not knowing where to put your hands, searching for purchase. The cold metal of the refrigerator handle digs into your lower back as he backs you against it, his groans reverberating through your mouth like a growled confession.

“My bedroom,” you manage to gasp between kisses. “Take me to my bedroom.”

Logan obliges, intertwining his fingers with yours. Together, you ascend the stairs, your laughter mingling in the noiseless night when he missteps and stumbles, momentarily breaking the spell. But he recovers quickly, finding your room in mere seconds.

The door clicks shut behind you, and he presses you against the wood with a force you’d never experienced, his hands sliding down to grip your ass and knead the supple flesh with a possessive fervor. It all helps to feed the fire pooling in your core.

“Quiet, baby,” he whispers, slipping his fingers beneath the back of your sweatpants. His nails trace fiery lines along your skin, igniting your every nerve. “Don’t want anyone wakin’ up to those pretty sounds you make. They’re just for me, right?”

You nod frantically, longing for more, arching into his hands as your hips grind against his, your body moving with a will of its own. The friction is exquisite, a tantalizing promise. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, his words laced with unfiltered hunger. “I’ve thought about havin’ you like this ever since I met you.”

His confession sends a surge of pride through your chest, an ache that feels equal parts affection and astonishment. Ever since the beginning? When he could barely look at you without scowling, his disdain practically tangible? “You hid it well,” you reply, breathless as you trace the outline of his erection over his jeans. The way it twitches under your undivided attention makes your pulse race. “I thought you hated me.”

He lets out a huff of laughter. “I thought the same about you,” he counters, before crushing his lips to yours once more. This time, you can’t help but smile into the kiss, your bodies moving as one, the pent-up tension between you unraveling in waves. “Guess we were both wrong.”

Your pants hit the floor in an unceremonious heap. It should embarrass you, how desperate and utterly needy you sound, the pleas spilling from your lips like the filthiest confessions. But the hunger in you is too vast, too insistent, drowning any possible flicker of shame. Decency was abandoned the moment you crossed that threshold. Logan nudges your legs apart with his knee, and the instant you feel him against your center, a contained sigh escapes you, half-resignation, half-surrender. Thought dissolves, leaving only instinct as you rock against him in slow circles, seeking relief.

“When was the last time someone took care of you?” He toys lazily with the waistband of your panties, like he has all the time in the world. You don’t give him an immediate answer, choosing instead to grind harder against his thigh, your breath hitching at the pressure. “Don’t go all shy on me now, sweetheart,” he says, dipping his head to mouth at your collarbone, the scent of his cologne heady and intoxicating. “Judging by the way you’re basically humpin’ me, I’d say it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I don’t remember,” you blurt out, your head thudding against the door when his teeth nip at the delicate curve of your neck. Your pulse thrums beneath his lips, and you’re seconds from biting your tongue just to keep from crying out. “Stop teasing.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a wicked smile against your skin, his knee retreating only to be replaced by his fingers, trailing them along the fabric covering your heat. “I like it when you get bossy. It reminds me why I like you so damn much.” He tugs the fabric of your underwear aside, the cool air hitting your wetness for only a moment before his fingers glide over your arousal, testing your patience. One digit slides into you, curling slightly as his palm presses over your mouth, muffling the whine that falls from your parted lips. “So wet for me, princess.”

Your legs shake under the weight of sensation, threatening to give out as you lean into the door for balance. His fingers move inside you with a sharp rhythm, hitting that spot with each furious thrust. The pressure builds, hot and insistent, and it’s overwhelming, but then he drops to his knees, and the sight alone sends a jolt through your core.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds is molten. He laps at you with long strokes, his pace never faltering, pumping his digits in sync with the flick of his tongue, coaxing every sound you’ve tried so hard to stifle. “Oh, fuck. Logan—”

He groans against your core, his eyes remaining locked on your face, soaking in every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His focus is relentless, as though your reactions fuel him. You rake your hands through his hair, clutching at his dark locks with haste whenever his wet muscle lavishes extra attention on your clit, the intensity of his ministrations making your voice break, a choked gasp dying on your lips.

Your climax teeters on the edge, faster than you anticipated. “Close,” you manage to huff, the obscene noises he elicits driving you wild. “I’m gonna come. Please, come here—”

Logan detaches himself from you, standing tall with a fierce determination in his eyes. He’s set on pushing you over the edge with his fingers alone. His lips crash against yours, biting and licking, swallowing every desperate mewl that falls from your mouth, spit glistening down his chin. Three knuckles deep, coaxing your body to respond, your walls tighten around him, shuddering as he corners you against the door, the sharp edge of pleasure sending your knees buckling. Your orgasm washes over you, rendering you boneless in his hold. Limp and spent, you can barely return his kisses, panting harshly against his mouth, his arms the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

As you steady your breath, a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. Your eyes flicker down to his slick palm, and a rush of pride floods you. "That was amazing," you breathe, your fingers, trembling slightly with anticipation, reaching for his belt to tug at it. “My turn now.”

He ends up with his back pressed against the headboard, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. You’re positioned between his legs, stimulating him over the fabric of his boxers. “It won’t take too long,” he says, and you feel the weight of his words more than hear them as you pull him free, revealing the hardness beneath. He’s already swollen, the tip wet with precum that coats your thumb as you stroke him once, feeling the heat pulse beneath your touch. A shiver runs through him, his legs stiffening as though on the edge of restraint. Bewitched by the size of him, you lean forward to slip the leaking head past your lips. “Jesus Christ.”

It’s difficult to take all of him at once, but you push through, your mouth stretching to accommodate his size. As you work him with your hand, your tongue traces the veins that snake along his length, feeling him throb. Logan’s body betrays him, his fists tightening around the sheets as if holding on to his last thread of control, desperately keeping his hips still, resisting the urge to fuck up into you.

“Honey, pull out,” he warns, stroking your back. “M’not jokin’. You’re gonna make me come.” But you don’t stop. Instead, you deepen your movements, cheeks hollowing as you take him with more enthusiasm, pushing him toward the back of your throat. When he realizes what you’re doing, a moan escapes him, laced with a dark laugh. “Filthy girl. So that’s what you want? To choke on my cum? Should’ve asked for it sooner.”

Not long afterwards, you feel the first splash of his release hitting your tastebuds. Ropes of his seed flood your mouth, some of it dribbling out to stain the corner of your lips. He watches, his thumb gently swiping over the edge, collecting what’s spilled, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves.

“Show me,” he asks, still breathless. You lean closer, your faces a whisper apart, and then you part your lips, revealing the evidence of your devotion like a masterpiece on display. His fingers find your chin, holding you there as he bites into his lower lip, the pressure turning the skin pale. “Now swallow,” he commands, and you obey, the motion deliberate, your satisfaction mirrored in the curve of his grin. He kisses you languidly, as if savoring the moment. “Where have you been all my life?”

The question invites countless answers, but you choose to murmur, “Down the hallway.”

“Logan, are you even listening?”

Charles’ voice slices through the playful moment, forcing Logan’s hands to still against your sides. The team sits around the table, embroiled in serious discussions that demand focus and discipline. Yet Logan’s fixation on you has rendered him deaf to anything beyond the sound of your laughter. Not a single word of the last hour and a half has stuck, his mind entirely preoccupied by the warmth of you perched on his lap.

He’d insisted he was much more comfortable than any chair, and you’d indulged him, leaning into his chest as his fingers danced teasingly along your ribs. “Of course I am,” Logan drawls, though the way his hand resumes tracing lazy circles on your stomach says otherwise, his entire attention remaining fixed on you.

“I don’t think you are,” Charles counters, leaning forward with both palms flat on his desk. His sharp gaze locks to you, narrowing faintly. “Do I need to seat you two on opposite ends of the room, or can you manage to behave?”

You stiffen in response, the easy comfort of moments ago evaporating. Sliding off Logan’s lap, you settle into the nearest chair, your departure catching him off guard. Your eyes meet his subtly, and you offer him an apologetic smile. Beneath the table, your fingers squeeze his knee, a silent reassurance. Finally, you direct your attention to Charles, straightening in your seat as if to demonstrate your newfound focus.

Logan, however, is less cooperative. His arms cross over his chest, and a crease forms between his brows, the picture of rebellion. Nothing that Charles says registers in his brain. All he can think about is how much better it felt to have you on his lap, where you weren’t bothering anyone. He contents himself with watching you now, contemplating your profile and the way your fingers absentmindedly tap against your notebook.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. It’s not the same. You’ve been dating for a month, much to the surprise of everyone in the mansion. It’s as if the idea of the two of you together had never even crossed their minds. Not even Rogue believed it when she came to ask Logan if the rumors were true. He hadn’t known how to respond to her, caught between mirth and disbelief himself.

It’s been decades since he’s felt this alive. He’s head over heels for you in a way that’s exhilarating. Seeing you, even across a crowded room, lights a fire in him, and he has to actively fight the urge to walk over, pull you close, and kiss you senseless right there in front of your friends.

As the meeting finally draws to a close, Charles asks him to stay for a while. “I just need to have a quick word with you,” he says, waiting until the others leave.

Once you’re out of earshot, Charles sighs, shaking his head like an exhausted parent addressing his wayward child. “Look, I’m glad you two worked through your differences,” he begins, a note of cautious joviality in his tone, “but this... well, this is the opposite of that.”

Logan exhales wearily, rolling his eyes before he can stop himself, and regretting it instantly. Don’t shrug him off, his inner voice scolds him. “C’mon, Charles. You’re overreactin’.”

The man arches a brow. “Am I? Watching the two of you cuddling during a meeting feels like chaperoning teenagers. Honestly, I must admit you’re even worse than them at times.”

That remark lands harder than Logan expects. He opens his not-so-smart-mouth, ready with a retort, but no words come out. For once, his quick wit fails him, leaving him standing there in uncharacteristic silence.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Charles’ eyes fall shut. “Just… try to be more present, alright? And don’t distract her, or yourself, too much. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Later, when he recounts the conversation to you, you start pacing nervously across his bedroom, your teeth worrying at your nails.

“Maybe he’s right,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

“Darlin’—”

“I just don’t want him to be angry with us,” you cut him off, arms dropping to your sides in defeat. Turning toward him, you sit down on the edge of his bed, your shoulder brushing his as your eyes bore into the carpet. “Do you think we should... give each other some space?”

Your suggestion feels like a punch to his gut. He sits up straighter, hands finding their way to your hips as he guides you onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. “I think we’re fine the way we are,” he says, tipping his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours in a loving gesture, coaxing a small smile from you. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Are you happy with me?”

You nod—once, twice, like it’s the only answer you could possibly give. “I love you,” you whisper, the words trembling, your lips curving into a smile that he feels against his own when he kisses you.

“God,” he grumbles against your mouth, long fingers tightening on your hips. “I never get tired of hearin’ that.” Logan cups your ass through your clothes, rocking you against him, and a groan escapes his throat as your center presses against his half-hard cock. “Say it again,” he rasps, his voice wanting.

“I love you,” you breathe, your head falling back when his hands move to unbutton your shirt, his touch reverent and greedy all at once. “I love you so much.”

Before you know it, he’s rolled you onto your back, hovering above you as he peels away the layers between you. He can’t comprehend how he got so lucky, how he gets to have you like this every day, so pliant and eager beneath his body. Your whimpers grow softer, more airy, but even then, you’re still whispering how madly in love you are with him.

This is a memory he’ll hold on to when Charles inevitably asks him to reconsider—to think about what’s best for both you and him. Fragile moments like this will slip through his fingers, but for now, they’re his to cherish.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

It turns out that love doesn’t come neatly wrapped in perfection. No—it’s a chaotic blend of tender glances and fiery clashes, of whispered promises and cutting comebacks. It’s arguments that sting as much as they heal, moments that don’t glitter but still matter, making the difference.

“Fuck off!” you snap, shoving the door against its frame, trying to shut him out. But Logan’s hand wedges in the gap, his strength effortlessly outmatching yours. “Get out, Logan.”

“No.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he grits through clenched teeth, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Behind him, Jean calls your name, but he doesn’t turn. “Not now, Jean!” His voice echoes down the hall, and the sound of her retreating steps leaves the air tense.

You’ve already crossed the room, standing by the window. The sunlight filters through, painting your silhouette in warm flickers. Outside, the kids are in their break, passing a ball, their laughter carried by the breeze. Logan moves toward you, his presence heavy, and you hold up a hand to stop him.

“I’m going on that mission,” you say firmly.

“No, you’re not.”

Your head snaps toward him, a storm unraveling in your gaze. “Charles wants me there. The team wants me there,” you shoot back, jabbing a finger into his chest with each word, “and most importantly, I want to go. You don’t get to decide for me.”

Logan doesn’t step back, doesn’t flinch. He can’t understand how you don’t see his side of things, how the thought of you being in danger like this twists his insides into knots. “I can’t lose you.”

“Logan—”

“No, you don’t get it!” The words burst out of him. “What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt, and we can’t get you back in time?” His fists clench at his sides, fighting the need to pull you into his arms, to feel that you’re still here with him, still safe. “It’d kill me, because I love you with everything that I am. Just thinkin’ about losin’ you makes me sick.”

Your expression softens, but only for a moment. You take a step in his direction, closing the space between you. There’s no hesitation in your tone when you speak, leaving space for conviction. “I had a life before you, Logan. I’ve been here since I was a child, learning how to fight, how to survive. I’ve gone on missions for years—missions that were just as dangerous as this one. I don’t need you to protect me like this.” Your voice wavers, just barely. “I appreciate that you care, but I’m just as capable as you are.”

How long can someone hold their breath? Logan doesn’t even notice he’s doing it until your arms encircle his waist, your embrace melting the tension that’s been coiling in his chest. You bury your face against him, your breath steadying, and he draws a long breath, pressing his lips to your forehead like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His hand slides into your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a softness that feels almost out of place after the heated exchange.

“You get so bossy sometimes.”

"I thought you said you liked me bossy," you answer, your voice low, laced with mixed feelings, as you look up at him through hooded eyes.

Logan’s lips twitch into what aims to simulate a smile, but it’s weighed down by the sadness pooling in his gaze. It doesn’t reach the crinkle of his eyes, doesn’t carry the warmth it usually does.

“I do,” he says, his voice rough, barely audible, brushing a thumb across your cheek. The words hang between you, carrying a plea for things to feel less heavy, for this closeness to fix what words can’t.

The arguments come more frequently now. The love hasn’t faded—of course, it hasn’t—but it feels buried beneath the noise. You and Logan clash over everything, over nothing, over things neither of you can quite name, all the fucking time.

It’s a cycle that none of you can seem to break, passion feeding the fire until it burns too bright, too hot. One of you always storms out, slamming doors or throwing words that linger in the air like acid smoke. And yet, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how lost you both feel, the love is still there. Aching, waiting for the dust to settle.

You tell yourself it’s just a rough patch. That love like this isn’t easy, that it’s supposed to be messy. But sometimes, when the silence stretches too long after another fight, you can’t help but wonder how much more the two of you can take before something breaks for good.

Lust becomes your apology, an untamed collision of anger and desire that you can’t resist. It’s not gentle—it’s frenzied and blazing. The bed creaks beneath you, the sounds of your moans and the slap of his hips against your ass enveloping the room. Every thrust drives you closer, the ferocity of it making your head bump into the headboard, but all you can think about is how full he makes you feel.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, drooling all over the pillow, ass high up in the air as Logan continues to pound into you. He pulls out all of a sudden, making you gasp in protest. That’s when you feel his tongue against your slit, eating you out from behind, spreading your cheeks to see just how much further he can go. Your hand flies back, pressing him into your skin. “So good, baby. F-fuck.”

There’s no leaving him, not even in your wildest dreams. When he spills inside you, you always ask him to hold you close, whispering for him to stay there. To keep you full of him. And he does, fusing your body with the mattress, his weight anchoring you to the pleasure he knows how to grant you.

But then, it’s morning. The sun filters through the curtains, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets, and you’re tangled together, his arm heavy across your waist. You stare at the ceiling, your mind crawling back to the fight, to the anger that seemed so vital only hours ago. You have to force yourself to remember why you were so mad in the first place. As his hand slides over your hip, pulling you toward him, the memory slips further away.

Dating Logan means understanding the darkness he carries, the nightmares he has almost every night. Usually, you’re woken by his movements, his rambling, the tremors that run through his body. You’ve perfected a way of rousing him gently, pulling him from the grip of whatever horrors his mind conjures without causing him more harm.

Though tonight, you must’ve been drained. You didn’t notice the moment the nightmare began.

“Honey? Oh, fuck. Wake up, c’mon.” His voice pulls you from the depths of sleep, and when your eyes flutter open and adjust to the dim light, the first thing you see is Logan, sitting rigid, staring at your arm as though it’s breaking him apart. The pain in his gaze is nearly palpable.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice groggy as you sit up, still partly disoriented. “Logan, are you okay?”

Then you see it: Blood. Dark stains seeping into the sheets, trailing from a jagged cut running the length of your forearm. It isn’t deep, and oddly, it doesn’t even hurt that much. But Logan looks stricken, his eyes flickering between your wound and his own hands.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,” you assure him as you fumble to grab the ruined sheets, bundling them up to contain the mess. Reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, you switch it on, bathing the room in a golden glow. That’s when you notice the droplets of blood on his knuckles, the torn skin where his claws must have pierced through. This has never happened before. Neither of you know what to say or how to react. When you reach for his hand, he recoils, shaking his head like he’s trying to will the scene away. “Hey, don’t do that.”

“I knew it’d happen eventually.” He’s spiraling, rising to his feet. A man trying to escape himself. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his chest and back, his body tense with the effort of holding his pieces together. Turning to face you, his expression is the embodiment of torment. In his eyes, it’s as though the prophecy has been confirmed, irrevocably, by his own doing. “I hurt you. I told you it was going to happen.”

“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, pushing yourself off the bed to meet him. You’re tired, too tired to be arguing like this. “It won’t happen again.”

“How can you be so sure? You said the same thing before, and now look. Look at where we are.”

You’re at a loss for how to calm him. The exhaustion weighing on you makes your thoughts sluggish, and you’re afraid of saying something you’ll regret. But giving up isn’t an option—not with him, not because of this. Slowly, you step back and spin in place, letting him see you fully, the wound and all.

“You see? I’m fine,” you insist. “I’m not hurt. Please, Logan, believe me when I say I’m okay.”

He doesn’t respond, but the uncertainty etched into his face lingers. For a moment, you think you’ve reassured him, as he lets you guide him back to the bed. Together, you pull the sheets up to cover your bodies, and he leans into the pillows with a weary sigh. He mutters something about being sweaty, so you don’t rest your head on his chest as usual, settling into the curve of his shoulder instead. The rhythm of his breathing, uneven at first, begins to steady.

At some point, the warmth of his body disappears. You stir faintly, but your mind is too clouded by sleep to register it as anything more than the remnants of a rather vivid dream.

Logan remains standing, staring at Charles, refusing the invitation to sit down. “You told Jean,” he says, and the other man doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even attempt to deny it. “I asked you to keep it between us.”

“I thought she might help you reconsider,” Charles answers, looking more serious than usual, his piercing eyes fixed on Logan. “Logan, I still don’t believe this is the right path for you. It’s not the solution to your problems. You can’t run from her, from this—relying on forgetting won’t bring you peace.”

Who really knows what’s best for him? Logan certainly doesn’t. After all these decades of walking the earth, what has he truly learned? His long life feels like a cruel irony, offering time without clarity. What use is immortality when you’re paralyzed by indecision, unsure of what you truly want?

“I can’t leave her. At least, not willingly,” he explains, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the arm of a chair, the gesture lacking finesse. “She’ll get over it. She’s stronger than she thinks.”

“You’re deciding for her.”

To that, Logan has no reply. He only looks away.

“When I got here, you told me you’d help with whatever I needed.” Logan crosses the room, lowering himself into a chair by Charles’ desk, his posture stiff. He lifts his chin slightly, trying to convey a confidence he doesn’t actually feel. “This is what I need you to do. Today.”

“Let’s start with your most recent memories and work backward from there.” Charles rolls himself closer, his chair nearly brushing Logan’s legs. “There’s an emotional core to every memory, and when you eradicate that core, it begins to degrade. By the time I’m done, those memories will have withered, as in a dream upon waking.”

Logan’s throat tightens at the description. There’s no comfort in Charles’ words. It doesn’t sound like a dream. It sounds like a nightmare.

“Do you want to proceed?”

“Yes.” Logan’s reply is immediate, though it scrapes his throat like gravel.

Charles nods once, solemnly. “Then tell me your most recent memory of her.”

I think I was preparing a class when she burst through the door, uninvited. I’d been trying to keep my distance from her, because of... well, all of this. But it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to leave, so I let her stay. She came up behind me, wrapped her arms around me, and asked if I had much left to do. I told her everything else could wait. Big mistake.

We were lying on my bed. Somehow, we always ended up there, tangled together. It wasn’t strictly... sexual. There’s something profoundly vulnerable about sharing that space. Snuggling, you could call it. Now that I think about it, she likes resting her head on my chest. Says it’s the best way to hear my heartbeat and find out if it matches hers.

“Focus, Logan.”

Yeah, I know. You’re right. Anyway, she asked me if I believed in soulmates, and I laughed. Obviously, she thought I was mocking her, so I had to convince her I wasn’t. I just thought the question was funny.

“Why did you laugh?”

Because it was exactly the kind of question she’d ask. She hadn’t before, but I’d been waiting for it. She told me she thought soulmates existed, and that I was hers. And I laughed again, and she threatened to leave. I held her tighter.

I told her I didn’t know if soulmates were real. I didn’t have that kind of certainty. What I did know, I said, was that I loved her. That was the only thing I was sure of. Soulmates or no soulmates, I loved her. I was right where I wanted to be. Those were my exact words.

“When did this happen?”

Yesterday. Before she left with Ororo and Scott for their mission. That’s why I’m choosing to do this now.

“I’m afraid I have to ask you again. Are you absolutely certain you want me to do this?”

Yes, Charles. Please, don’t ask me again.

Throwing open the mansion’s entry door, you let it swing wide as you step inside. You could use a shower, but right now, all you care about is finding him. Where is he?

Before starting your search, a cluster of students rushes toward you, their arms wrapping around your waist. Their laughter fills your senses as they chatter excitedly, hugging you tightly. “We missed you!” A boy exclaims, and you can’t help but smile, ruffling his hair.

“Have you seen Professor Logan?” you ask, crouching to meet the eye of one of the younger girls.

She grins, her innocent smile spreading, and she points toward the kitchen. “He’s in there.”

You thank her and make your way to the kitchen, your heart beating a little faster. You find him standing by the counter, slicing bread. His movements are methodical, his posture calm, but something feels off. You pause in the doorway, scrutinizing his face for a sign, any sign, that he’s happy to see you.

But his gaze flicks to you for only a brief moment, cool and detached, before returning to his task.

“Hey,” you call softly, tilting your head. His shoulders tense, and he doesn’t stop cutting. “I’m back,” you add, stepping closer, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment.

It takes him a few seconds to respond, and when he does, his voice sounds flat. “I see.” He opens a drawer, pulling out a fork. “Good for you, I guess.”

The words hit you like a slap. A joke, surely. But why? You take a hesitant step forward, your brows furrowing. “Logan, why—”

Before you can finish, a hand grabs yours, yanking you out of the kitchen. Startled, you turn to see Jean, her expression pale and stricken.

“Jean?” you ask, confused. “Is this another one of Logan’s pranks?”

Her lips twitch, and tears glisten in her eyes when she swallows thickly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I tried to stop him. I really did. But he—he wouldn’t listen!” Her hands tighten around yours, quivering. You’ve never seen her like this before.

“Wait—slow down,” you urge, your stomach twisting.

“I swear, I tried to talk him out of it,” she pleads, each of the words she utters rushing out like a flood. “You know how stubborn he can get.”

It doesn’t take too long for her panic to feel contagious. The pit in your abdomen deepens as you glance back toward the kitchen, where Logan stands just out of sight.

Something is wrong—terribly wrong.

“Jean, what did he do?”

Despite all his wisdom, Charles had known this moment would come the second he agreed to help Logan.

The door to his office flies open, slamming against the wall with a force that reverberates through the room. You storm in, your strides long and charged with anger, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Madness blazes in your eyes. “You did what?!”

“My dear—”

“You erased me from my boyfriend’s memory!” The words erupt from you, shaking the very air. You fling your arms wide, your fury spilling over. Before he can respond, you turn on his bookshelf, yanking ancient, cherished volumes from their resting places. One by one, you ignite them, flames devouring their fragile pages in an instant.

Then, there’s a momentary pause—a flicker of silence before you seize another book. This one you hurl in his direction, not quite at his face, but close enough to graze the air near his shoulder before it hits the floor with a heavy thud. The sound echoes, a physical punctuation to your rage.

“You made me disappear! He doesn’t fucking know who I am!”

His expression, pained and weary, holds no exasperation—only regret. “He asked me to do it.”

“What kind of an answer is that?” The question hangs underlined by the tears that stream down your face. Your voice breaks, the pain behind it cutting deeper than any accusation. “You could’ve said no, Charles. How many times have you denied me things?”

“You didn’t see him in the way I did, he was—” He stops himself, faltering. No words can repair what he has already destroyed. “I’m sorry.”

You stand there, breathing hard, the space between you filled with smoldering ash and a silence so loud it feels suffocating. The remains of his books lie scattered, the faint scent of burnt paper lingering in the air. Charles watches you, but he doesn’t move to stop you. He doesn’t fight you.

The fury ebbs, leaving behind a hollow ache that takes its place in your chest. “If you’re so willing to erase love like it’s nothing, then do it for me, too.”

Charles’s brows knit together. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I? Logan doesn’t remember me. I walk into a room, and he looks right through me. Like I’m a stranger, like I never mattered. So tell me, what’s the point in remembering him if he’s already forgotten me?”

“I don’t believe forgetting will give you the peace you’re looking for.”

“Is that what you told him as well? Clearly, it worked out well.”

Touché.

“I’ve already hurt you enough,” he whispers.

“And you’ll keep hurting me if you don’t do this. I can’t carry this alone.” You kneel in front of him, clutching the edge of his wheelchair. “If you could take it away from him, you can take it away from me, too.”

Charles stares down at you, his mouth tightening, as if the weight of your words presses down on him. His hands, usually so steady, shift uncomfortably in his lap. It’s clear he can’t believe this is the second time he’s found himself in this situation, faced with the same desperate request. “Are you sure?”

You nod your head. “He wanted to forget me. Now, I want to forget him.”

He exhales slowly, the sound heavy with resignation. “All right,” he says softly, though his voice carries a sadness he doesn’t try to hide. “But I need you to understand… once it’s done, there’s no going back.”

“That’s the point.” You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, as though erasing the tears could also erase the doubt creeping in.

“Then sit,” he counters, motioning to the chair Logan sat in days ago.

You hesitate for a moment, the finality of the act looming large. Slowly, you lower yourself into the chair, gripping its arms with all your earnest. Charles wheels himself closer, and the reality of what’s about to happen sets in.

“Tell me your last memory of him,” he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close your eyes, and the image surfaces instantly: Logan, holding you close, whispering that he loves you. No soulmates, no destiny—just love. You let out a shaky breath, your heart breaking all over again as you begin to recount it. “The last time he looked at me like I was his whole world.”

Charles nods, his expression unreadable, placing his hands on your temples. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I had to leave the next day, so I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. My things were already packed. I walked into Logan’s room and asked him if he was busy. A week isn’t a lot, but ever since he moved here, we hadn’t been apart from each other. I was anxious about that. I thought it’d be so hard to fall asleep without him at night. What—oh, God, what’ll happen now?

“I need you to keep going, darling.”

Don’t call me that.

“Alright. I’m sorry.”

I convinced him to lie in bed with me. I had my head on his chest, and he kissed my forehead. His beard scratched me in the right way. It never hurt or bothered me. I had once dated a guy who had a beard, and it was just so uncomfortable. But that wasn’t Logan’s case. He would kiss me and hug me, and it felt like the best thing in the world.

There was a question I’d been meaning to ask him. It was about soulmates, and the existence of them. I thought Logan was my soulmate, and I said it to him. I asked if he believed in them, but he laughed. He told me he wasn’t making fun of me or anything, just that he thought the question was funny.

Logan said he didn’t know whether soulmates existed or not, but he knew for a fact that he loved me. He didn’t care about anything else. He loved me. He really did. Do you think he loved me, Charles?

“Yes. I do believe so.”

Then why did you take that away from me?

“I’m sorry.”

I hate you.

“I know.”

Your head pounds, an ache that feels like it’s splitting you in two. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever known. Your vision blurs, forcing you to blink repeatedly until the world around you sharpens into focus.

Four blank walls. The stark, colorless void offers nothing but the oppressive weight of emptiness. This must be your mind, stripped bare. Somewhere in the depths of this space, Charles is at work, pulling threads and unraveling every memory of Logan.

You push yourself off the cold floor. A soundless shift disturbs the space—a door appears out of nowhere, its frame faintly glowing, and without hesitation, you reach for the handle and swing it open.

On the other side is a fragment of your past: that night months ago, sitting in the living room, watching a movie. Logan had decided to join you. The memory pulls you in, and suddenly, you’re no longer standing—you’re on the couch. Your clothes have altered to match that night. Logan sits beside you, the warmth of his presence impossibly real.

This moment feels untouched by time, but deep down, you know the truth. Charles is erasing it even as you relive it. Soon, this too will vanish.

The scene begins to warp. It’s no longer the movie on the screen. The couple has been replaced by you and Logan. You’re watching yourselves from a third perspective, your bodies framed by the flickering light of the TV. It’s deeply unsettling, but in this fragmented state of consciousness, it doesn’t feel worth questioning.

“Logan?”

“Tell me.”

You grab a cushion and smack him on the arm, the motion instinctive. “You idiot!”

“What was that for?” he asks, laughing as he takes the cushion from your hands, tossing it aside. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You erased me from your memory!” you accuse him, even as you know the futility of it. He’s merely a fragment, a faint echo of who he once was to you. A lingering shard of memory caught in the tangled wires of your brain, sparking as it teeters on the edge of a short circuit. “You’re not even real, are you?”

“No,” he admits, his voice tinged with something like regret. “I’m just in your mind. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. You’re just what’s left.” You lower your gaze, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “How long do you think it’ll take Charles to erase you?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. The words you long for, the closure you might crave, are swallowed up. His lips vanish mid-formulation, and then you’re staring at a blank void where his mouth used to be. The rest of his features begins to fade—his eyes dissolve into nothingness, followed by his nose, his brows, the lines of his face. All that’s left is the space where he once sat, and even that feels tenuous.

You’re on your own now. The memory of him—of that night, the first time you truly shared an intimate moment—has been swept away like smoke in the wind. You collapse onto the floor, trembling as sobs tear through you, your hands pressed tightly against your face, attempting to contain your anguish. “I don’t want to forget you,” you choke out between hiccupped breaths, the sting of tears burning your eyes. “I never asked for any of this.”

“I know,” a familiar voice murmurs behind you, and there he is—Logan. This time, he’s wearing his suit. His claws are unsheathed, gleaming. “I shouldn’t have done it first. I don’t know what I was thinking’.”

You push yourself to your feet, drawn to him. When you move to hug him, he takes a step back, raising his claws as if to protect you from getting harmed. “I can’t retract them. If I hug you, I’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper, pressing forward and slotting yourself between his arms, ignoring the danger. Your face finds its habitual place against his chest, and you inhale deeply, inhaling his scent. “I just want you.”

His arms fold around you hesitantly, careful yet incomplete. You feel a sharp pain, a searing slice along your ribs that rips a scream from your throat. The agony is blinding, drowning your world into darkness.

When you open your eyes again, you’re somewhere else entirely. The bed feels soft beneath you, the sheets tangled around your legs. Logan is there beside you, his body warm against yours, both of you naked under the sheets.

“You’re lost in thought,” he says, his voice tender, taking a strand of your hair, twisting it gently before tucking it behind your ear. “You alright?”

His face won’t stay still. Beard, no beard. A moustache that fades as quickly as it appears. Hair long, then short. Sideburns one moment, smooth skin the next. He’s a shifting mosaic of himself. You realize you can’t remember what he looked like the last time you saw him.

“I’m forgetting you.” Your fingertips trace the curve of his cheek, memorizing each detail. “I don’t think I can stop it now.”

He’s seconds away from crying, his lips finding yours in a kiss that feels both desperate and resigned. “Stay here with me,” he whispers against your mouth, his hands sliding over your arms, your stomach, your legs. “Don’t let me go.”

“You did it to me first,” you say, voice thick with emotion, pulling him closer, down until his body presses fully against yours. His weight feels real, but you know it’s not. Nothing about this moment is.

His voice breaks, repeating the same mantra. “Stay here with me. Don’t let me go.”

The touches multiply. It’s no longer just his hands on your skin. It’s as if the entire universe is reaching for you. The cacophony of touches, the overlapping voices—“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”—swirls into a suffocating chaos.

Logan begins to blur, like a photograph left too long in the sun. His face fades first, then his body, until all that remains is a ghost of his shadow. Then even that is gone. The bed disappears beneath you, leaving you adrift in an empty expanse. You can’t tell if you’re still there, or if you’ve vanished with him.

You exhale slowly. Silence, at last.

The second first time you see him, he’s sitting alone outside on a weathered bench, his shoulders slightly hunched. He’s completely alone, and you pause a few steps away, studying him for a moment. He doesn’t seem like someone you would’ve missed at the mansion. Charles mentioned he’d recently joined the team, a mutant who had spent too long wandering the earth.

You clear your throat, trying not to overthink it. “Mind if I take a seat?” you ask, your hands clasped behind your back as you wait for his reply.

He shifts to one end of the bench, leaving you more than enough room, though his movements seem cautious. You sit down, exhaling softly as an awkward silence stretches between you. His demeanor isn’t exactly inviting, and you wonder how to bridge the gap.

After a moment, you stretch out your hand, offering a polite smile, giving him your name. He glances at your hand, then takes it. “M’Logan,” he says simply, though you already knew that from your previous talk with Charles. His fingers are rough, calloused, yet they linger a beat longer than necessary before letting go. “The other day, I was in the kitchen, and you walked in. You were acting… strange.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Really?” Your gaze flickers between his face and your hand that still feels warm from his touch. “I don’t remember that. Are you sure it was me?”

Logan hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought so… but maybe not.” His lips press into a thin line, shrugging. “Never mind. I could be wrong.”

Tilting your head, you study him. There’s something familiar that you can’t quite place. “Have we met before? Outside this place, I mean. It’s just… I feel like I know you. Like I’ve seen you somewhere, but I can’t figure out where.”

His eyes meet yours then, like your question has triggered something dormant. He leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he lets out a low chuckle. “Funny you’d say that. I wasn’t planning on bringing it up, but… I got the same feeling.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all.” His lips quirk into a smile, one that matches yours.

Inside the mansion, Charles and Jean watch the scene through the window. Jean folds her arms across her chest, her expression caught between awe and disbelief. “This is crazy,” she murmurs, shaking her head.

“Don’t get me started,” Charles replies.

“They don’t know what happened, but they still feel it. Like they’re connected.” She peers down at Charles, her voice quieter now. “You erased everything, didn’t you? Every memory, every trace.”

Charles keeps his eyes on the scene outside, his features softening as he watches the two of you talk. He sighs, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “You’re asking me for an explanation I don’t have. I guess some things… refuse to be forgotten.”

Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.

Friedrich Nietzsche.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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miupow · 22 days ago

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WRAPPED WITH A BOW 一 ୨ৎ ❪ 강태현 ❫

taehyun likes to play games with you, even when it's christmas.

pairing 。。。kang taehyun x fem!reader g。⧼🔖⧽ ⸝⸝ smut , pwp

cw。dom/sub dynamics・mean dom!taehyun・ligerie・free use・domestic chores・traditional gender roles・sex on appliances・dirty talk・degredation kink・breath play・hair pulling・unprotected sex・vaginal fingering・spanking・name calling (whore, slut, etc.)・creampies⸝⸝ wc。2. 5 k | to library。

requested. "taehyun unwrapping a christmas present but the present is you. " - offering yourself to taehyun as free use on christmas but he makes you do chores instead.

notes from lia。this ended up about twice as long as i meant for it to. oopsies. it genuinely took every atom of self control i had to not add daddy kink to this fic. you don't understand the depth of insane i am about daddy dom tyun.

getting gifts for a man who has everything can be difficult. of course, you knew taehyun would be happy with anything you had gotten for him, but you couldn’t help but feel the need to go above and beyond— you were his girlfriend, his life partner if you had any say in the matter, and you just had to match the effort he put in to all of the amazing gifts he always got you.

but you didn’t have nearly as much money and influence as he did. it was impossible to get your hands on an adequate gift for taehyun, no matter what it was you decided on, and it was only getting harder and harder the closer it got to christmas day. after being faced with what seemed like your hundredth sold out screen, you felt about ready to give up.

but then you had an idea. a devilish, ingenious idea that spread a wicked grin across your face. if you couldn’t find anything else to give taehyun for christmas, you could always give him yourself instead…

“y/n.” taehyun deadpans, lips stopped centimeters from the rim of his coffee mug. “what are you doing under the tree?”

you had slipped out of bed early to situate yourself before he woke up, but taehyun was a notoriously light sleeper— he shuffles out of the kitchen to the sight of you attempting in vain to worm your way underneath the christmas tree, the thick ribbon you’ve tied around your middle making it far more difficult to do so than you anticipated. several ornaments had fallen from their branches onto the hardwood floor, the commotion no doubt alerting your poor sleepy boyfriend. he blinks at you quizzically, raising a thick dark eyebrow as you blush and fight for the words to explain.

“i— i, um. i’m a gift.” you respond meekly. this was starting to seem less and less like a good idea the longer taehyun looked at you.

“you’re a gift.” he echoes flatly. if you didn’t know him so well, you would be worried that he was angry with you, but you could see the ghost of a grin tugging at the corners of his plump lips when he takes a sip of coffee. his fluffy brown hair falls into his eyes as he shakes his head affectionately.

“yes.” you shuffle back from beneath the tree awkwardly, propping yourself up on the rug with your hands that you had bound to your sides. taehyun’s quiet giggle confirms to you just how ridiculous you must look— you had half the mind to be embarrassed. you were supposed to look sexy, not silly, dressed up in strappy satin lingerie an eye-catching candy apple red. the heart-shaped corset pushing up your plush tits and cinching in your waist, accentuating all your ample curves and assets. the set was complete with lacy white stockings held up by a garter, the color matching the ribbon you had tied in a neat little bow right over your perky cleavage. however, it was difficult to be embarrassed when taehyun made you feel so comfortable and at ease. you laugh along with your boyfriend sheepishly, turning to hide your burning face.

it takes a moment for taehyun to fully process what you were wearing, his laughter quickly ceasing into stunned silence— you gaze back up at him to see him take a sharp intake of breath, his big brown eyes going wide and his jaw going slack. he gulps, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his hot and heavy gaze slowly trailing from your nervous face down your scantily clad body, leaving a path of fire across your cold skin. you feel so small underneath his stare, his dark eyes looking over you as if you were some specimen, something to inspect and analyze. it’s something you don’t think you’ll ever get used to, no matter how many times you’ve laid bare beneath him, let him soak in your body as if he were studying for a test.

“i’m your gift.” you give him a wobbly, timid smile, resisting the urge to squirm underneath his smoldering gaze. “merry christmas, tyunnie.”

“but you were my girlfriend yesterday.” taehyun responds smartly, breaking out of his reverie, his lips breaking out in a grin. “and the day before that. what exactly makes you my gift?”

he can be such a shithead when it comes to teasing you. “i mean i’ll do whatever you want for the day.” you huff. “anything you ask for… how does that sound?”

“anything i ask for?” taehyun hums, placing his mug down on the coffee table before stepping over to circle you slowly. “anything at all?”

his warm, calloused hand comes to ghost over your shoulder, his fingertips electrifying as they slide across your collarbone to the base of your neck. he cups your jaw softly, applying no pressure, but just the mere thought of his hand wrapped around your neck is enough to make your breath hitch. “mhm…” you barely manage to respond, your voice high-pitched and unsteady.

your panties have been soaked since before taehyun even woke up, excited by the prospect of what was to come once you offered yourself to him, but now your cunt was really gushing. your clit throbbed as taehyun retracted his hand, begging for the pleasure you knew only he could give you.

“honey…” taehyun hums lowly, bending down low enough to breathe heavily into your ear, “how about you go and do the dishes from last night, then? and clean the counter, too. you made a mess baking all those cookies.”

you snap your head to stare at him incredulously. “are you being fucking serious?” you hiss.

“you said anything that i asked.” he smiles, far too innocently for your liking.

you could have told him no, really. he would have respected your feelings if you had shot him down. yet there you stood by the washing machine in your lingerie, your frilly pink apron on to protect the expensive fabric, folding laundry with a scowl on your face. taehyun had you do the dishes, then clean the counter, and then the sink too just for good measure— and now he had you catching up on all the laundry. on christmas day no less, you fumed. to say you were seething was an understatement… yet you continue to complete your tasks diligently, meticulous with the details even as you stewed in your frustration. you curse your boyfriend’s name under your breath as you toss his work clothes in the dryer, but you can’t help but have some semblance of blind trust in him. you’ve been through situations like this before with him, and you know he’s pissing you off on purpose just to fuck with you. he always makes it up to you in the end, and you really don’t have any reason to suspect that he won’t do the same now. especially on christmas.

just then, as if he had heard your thoughts, you feel taehyun come up behind you just as you started a second wash cycle. the broad planes of his chest press flush against your back, his sturdy muscled arms caging you against the washing machine with his palms flat on the rumbling lid. you quickly find yourself trapped beneath him, bent over the washing machine with your ass digging into his hipbones. he grinds against you sharply, the hard swell of his cock slotting itself perfectly between your pussy lips, and you can feel every ridge and vein through the thin material of his sweatpants. you gasp at taehyun’s sudden forcefulness, having done little but eye you from afar since you first offered yourself to him— he quiets you with a searing kiss, one of his large hands grabbing a rough fistful of your hair to turn your head to the side and capture your lips. your scalp stings deliciously, the painful pleasure making you keen; taehyun takes it as an invitation, deepening the kiss with his tongue enveloping yours in a hypnotizing dance. it’s so familiar yet so exhilarating, the way he dominates you completely, rendering you helpless and desperate as you grind your hips back on his and beg wordlessly for more.

taehyun tears his lips from yours, his kiss-bitten lips plump, pink and shiny. “stop fucking squirming.” he growls, his hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear. “i didn’t say stop, did i?”

his other hand rears back to land a deafening smack on your ass, forcing a high-pitched yelp out of you. your thighs shake from the sharp sting, your pussy pulsing in excitement, and you widen your legs instinctively for taehyun to position himself in between. you attempt to continue your chore as he palms your ass, turning back to the rest of the unfolded laundry— your hands shake as you fumble with the clothing, unable to focus on anything except for taehyun’s hands against your skin. he fiddles aimlessly with the waistband of your thong, pulls tight taught before letting it snap back against your hip. “i think i’m gonna keep these on.” he remarks lowly, running his thumb over the buttery fabric.

the hand in your hair slides down to wrap loosely around your throat, no doubt feeling your deep intake of breath. as his fingers grow tighter around your neck, taehyun tugs your g-string to the side, exposing your wet needy pussy to the cold laundry room air. your hole clenches around nothing, eager to be filled.

he hisses in appreciation at the sight, sliding a finger down between your pussy lips to circle at your clit. “holy fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, accentuating his claim with a flick of his wrist— he shoves two fat fingers up your pussy in one quick stroke, all the way to the knuckle. your cunt gushes around his fingers obscenely, fingertips curling expertly against your sweet spot, eliciting the filthiest slick squelches from your weeping hole. the pleasure was already overwhelming after being left needy for so long, but it still wasn’t anywhere near enough to satisfy your burning desire. you keen wantonly, pushing your ass back against taehyun’s hand, searching in vein for the hard cock he had pressed against you moments earlier.

“fuck, i can’t take it anymore, i have to be inside of you,” taehyun curses, tugging at the drawstring of his sweats. “you can take it, right baby?”

“yes! yes, yes yes—”

taehyun doesn’t have to be told twice, and you don’t even have to beg; in seconds he’s fishing his cock out and lining it up with your entrance, running the leaky tip up and down your slit a few times just to hear you whimper before burying himself inside to the hilt. he rams into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs, his thick fat shaft stretching out your hole much more than you were prepared for. no matter how many times you take his cock, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the girth of it, the way it spears your insides like it’s trying to tear you in two.

“tyunnie—!” you hiccup, reaching back behind you blindly. taehyun swats your hand away before grabbing tightly ahold of your plush hip and pulling you as firmly against him as he could. he feels so deep inside of you that you swear he must be poking through just beneath your belly button, your pussy so deliciously full that it made your fucked out head spin.

“i said keep going.” taehyun grits out darkly.

“i ca-a-a-an’t—!” you sob pathetically, shaking your head like your life depended on it. “tyunnie, please, i can’t, i need, i—!”

there was no way you could continue to fold laundry while you were being fucked like this, not even if you tried. your eyes could hardly focus on what was in front of you, threatening to roll back into your head in ecstasy. taehyun just tuts at you, feigning disappointment, his cock twitching against your gummy walls.

the washing machine beneath you switches cycles, beginning to shake and rumble in earnest— in tandem taehyun pulls his cock out to slam back in, his fingers around your windpipe doing nothing to muffle your loud, unabashed shriek. before you could even begin to keep up his hips set up a punishing rhythm, clapping loudly and wetly against your ass as you whine and wail. his heavy balls smack against your engorged, sensitive clit with every harsh thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. you arch your back to take him even deeper, if you even could, pressing your face and chest against the washing machine as it shakes wildly. oddly, it’s the farthest thing from uncomfortable; it acts almost as a makeshift vibrator, the buzzing only adding to the burning sweetness that built steadily in your belly.

“you can’t?” taehyun coos mockingly, his blunt nails digging crescents into your hot, supple flesh. “we just started and you’re already fucked stupid? pretty little head all empty except for cock? dumb slut. useless whore. only good at getting fucked, yeah?”

you can’t even string together a sentence, your thoughts fragmented and scattered, babbling desperate nonsense and rolling your hips back to meet taehyun’s thrusts with a dizzying force. your body vibrates with liquid fire, heating your puffy cunt and quivering thighs— faster than ever before were you hurtling towards your climax, that familiar tightening in your core growing harder and harder to bear. you wanted nothing more than to yield to the tide, let it overtake you completely… but you were a good girl, and good girls asked for permission to cum.

“’m gonna cum,” you warn, putting all your effort into making yourself speak. “i need to—i wanna cum, tyunnie, please!”

“god, this slutty pussy’s sucking me in so fucking tight,” taehyun groans, his thrusts growing sloppier, “i’m close too, baby, gonna cum in this slutty pussy— tell me who’s pussy this is, slut, come on. whose pussy does this belong to? tell me and i’ll let you cum.”

“you!” you shriek without a moments hesitation, big pearly tears threatening to spill over your lashes. “th-this is your pussy, tyunnie, fuck! yours, all yours— ohmygod!”

with one last rough, aggressive thrust, taehyun bottoms out in your pulsating cunt, bulbous cockhead kissing against your cervix as he cums with an animalstic grunt. the sensation of his sticky, hot seed splashing against your insides is just what you needed to tip over the edge, your walls clamping down on him and milking him for all he’s worth as you ride out your own climax with long, surrendering moans. taehyun hisses from the overstimulation, but he makes no movements to pull out, letting himself soften inside of you as you both struggle to catch your breaths. his erection no longer plugging you up, thick viscous globs of your mixed cum leak out of your hole, dripping down your thighs and taehyun’s balls to collect in a puddle on the floor.

you look over your shoulder to watch taehyun slowly and carefully pull out, a creamy, foamy white ring formed around the base of his cock— he doesn’t even bother to clean it off, tucking his wet cumsoaked dick back into his sweatpants before steadying himself back upright.

“clean that puddle up for me, won’t you?” he asks with a mischievous smile, turning to walk away before you can open your mouth to stop him. you’re left still glued to the top of the washing machine, disheveled and leaking cum, your legs still shaking from the aftershocks as you struggle to regain your footing.

christmas with a man who has it all can be quite difficult, indeed.

#taehyun x reader #txt x reader #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun smut #taehyun hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt fanfic #taehyun fanfic

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seresinhangmanjake · 4 months ago

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His and Yours

Summary: When you're told your pregnancy could cost you your life, Feyd demands you do whatever necessary to keep yourself alive. When you decide to have the baby anyway, it creates a rift in your relationship. Only when you go into labor, does Feyd show himself for who he really is.

Warnings/ Notes: Very angsty, but ends on a happy note. Very sensitive topics about pregnancy, abortion, and conversations about potential death. It’s Feyd here people, and we can imagine how he’d be with sensitive topics. Please only read if you understand this. Requested by @tgmreader

**While it is not necessary to read my other work to read this fic, this works also as another part to my "His" series. However, (even though it ends on a happy note) if this content makes you uncomfortable, it is not necessary to read in order to understand any future parts in the series. I know people love them together and that this is a difficult issue, so do not feel obligated.**

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Words: 2950

“Feyd…” you sigh as you watch him pace back and forth. He doesn’t so much as acknowledge you until you attempt to get up from your seat to go to him.

With an outstretched arm and a finger pointed directly at you, he says in a harsh tone—harsher than you’ve heard in a long time, “Don’t you move a fucking inch!”

You plop back into your seat. “We have to talk about this.”

“No!” he snaps. He descends upon you with rushed stomps, his hands gripping the armrests of your chair. You have to tilt your head back to meet his fiery gaze. “There will be no talking about this,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “No discussion. No negotiations. No weighing the pros and cons.” You swallow as a tear builds in the corner of your eye. Feyd groans and pushes away from the chair. “Stop crying.”

“What do you expect from me?”

“To not die!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the vast, empty room. “I expect my wife to do whatever she has to in order to keep me happy! That’s your job!”

You glance down. Your hand runs over the slightly bulbous shape of your stomach. A tear creates a dark patch on the fabric of your dress. A dress he picked out for you. He’d been so enthusiastic about every element related to your pregnancy, including dressing his wife in new gowns as you grew with the passing months. This is one of the first he’d chosen.

“I thought my job was to provide you with an heir,” you say.

“Not at the cost of your life!”

He had almost missed the appointment for more professional matters. Now you wish he had. When the doctor told you that you might not survive giving birth, he gave you a choice: risk having the child anyway or drink a tonic that will terminate your pregnancy while it’s still safe. You knew Feyd’s mind was made up in that very moment. But yours wasn’t. This is your child, a perfect combination of you and the only man you’ve ever loved, and yet, your questioning of what is best has your husband looking at you like you’ve lost your damn mind; like you’re a fool with a knack for selfishness.

“I’m the na-Baron,” he says. “You’re under my authority. I decide for the both of us.”

You shake your head. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t care if it’s fair! We can make a hundred heirs, but there isn’t another you!” he screams. You wonder if the rest of the Harkonnen fortress hears—the soldiers, the servants. You wonder if they fear for their lives because of an outburst that has nothing to do with them. They should. Your husband is likely to go on a rampage throughout the place the moment this conversation ends, should it ever.

When you shrivel in your chair, a crease dents the center of his brow. Feyd returns to you, his warm palms cupping your cheeks, his forehead resting against yours. “You can’t ask me to let you do this,” he says with a subtle whimper. “I won’t ever forgive you.”

“What about my forgiveness of you?”

Feyd jerks back. The pain in his eyes shrinks under darkness. “You have nothing to forgive me for.”

Finally, you stand. “You want me to give up our baby,” you argue. “You don’t think I deserve to–”

“No!” You jump. “I care about you! I love you! Not some thing that wants to take you away from me!”

“Feyd–”

“I refuse to continue this conversation,” he says. “I’ve made the decision. It’s done.”

—

He’d tried everything. He had meal preparers mix it in with your usual dinner drink until the nasty sludge color disappeared. He attempted to have your maidservants slip it into your morning tea, your evening glass of warm milk, and, even more desperately, into your bathwater. However, the only servants close enough to you that he could demand such a task from became primarily loyal to you after your marriage six months prior, and as a result, each one informed you of his plans. Five servants fell to your husband's blade before he surrendered that tactic to attempt anew. But with his final effort, what died between you was nothing other than what had been keeping you together—affection.

With your feelings numb, there was little foundation for your relationship to stand upon. When he took you and made you his concubine, Feyd kept you safe. He did the physical work to protect you in a newly twisted relationship while you did all of the emotional work. You broke down the walls he’d built, got him to open up, showed him that caring for you wouldn’t be the end of the world. Convincing you to get rid of your baby was the hardest he’d ever emotionally worked for you, and since failure was not a thing he had known, nothing was going to stop him.

He didn’t understand that kissing you with the tonic filling his mouth was too far, even for what he’d already done. He didn’t understand that he had already lost so much of your trust with his deceit and that that kiss was enough to scorch the rest of it. You might have left him had you not been able to wash the substance from your mouth before it could do its damage.

When you first turned him away, he threw his fits. He screamed at you and for you every day until you made it clear you weren’t coming to him, but even then, he didn’t allow you to neglect the expectations he had for you. In front of others, you were to act as his wife—stand by his side, attend meetings in silence, kiss him goodbye before his trips to Arrakis—but the larger your belly grew, the less he was willing to have you near.

You don’t sleep in the same bed now. You don’t take your meals together or bathe together or, frankly, see one another. He looks the other way when he crosses your path. His fists clench like he wants to touch you, his Adam’s apple bobs like he’s holding back from kissing you, but his eyes refuse to meet yours, and he won’t go near you.

You know he's preparing himself to lose his wife. Anger, while present, hasn’t been the dominant fuel for his behavior for a while, and neither is it yours. You were furious, but with your baby due in a month, you struggle to bear the loneliness, and the longer he continues to treat you like you’re a plague, the more you miss him, and the more you fear for your child. Who will love it if you are not here? Who will protect it and teach it and nourish it? Certainly not the one who should and once promised he would. And as the days close in, you wonder if he was right. If you made a mistake.

—

I need him—that’s all you can think as your baby fights to leave your body. You need your husband here, and the reasons are far too overwhelming, but you can’t focus on anything else. You miss him. You can’t do this alone. And if you die today, you have to say goodbye. You have to tell him you love him and make him swear to protect your child, or it was all for nothing.

“I need him,” you screech through your teeth with the contraction that hits you.

“My Lady–” one of the nurses begins. Her voice is shaky, worried eyes flicking back and forth between yours and the doctor between your legs who has just reached for another clean rag after discarding a blood-soaked one. “My Lady, the na-Baron–”

“I don’t care! I need him!”

He must’ve been there, listening, because Feyd’s through the door in an instant, and as his eyes lock on to yours, everything else—all the pain and lies—is shoved behind you. He takes a step forward but pauses, momentarily distracted by the wear on your body, before he blinks and continues forward, shoving people aside to get to you. He falls to his knees by your bed and when your hand reaches out, he clutches it tightly in both of his. Too tightly. You can feel your pulse throbbing harder from the pressure on your veins, but you don’t care.

“Feyd, I–”

“Don’t do this to me,” he mutters as tears well in his eyes. The first you’ve ever seen. He didn’t so much as shed a tear on your wedding day or when you told him you were pregnant, but as the first one falls down his cheek, you realize he’s about to make up for every missed opportunity.

You can’t respond. You don’t have it in you to tell him that you won’t do anything to him, that you won’t hurt him, that you’ll be fine, and that you’ll be a family. You’re too exhausted to lie. He seems to know it because he doesn’t make the request again. Instead, he kisses your fingers over and over, repeating words of love that are not often said.

“My Lady, I know it hurts, but if you can shift downwards a bit,” the doctor starts. “At this angle, we might be able to–”

Feyd wipes his eyes and shoots to his feet. “You can save her?”

“There might be a better chance.”

You groan as you maneuver your body. Feyd does what he can to assist, but it doesn’t ease the searing, stabbing feeling at your core.

“That’s better,” the doctor praises.

“She’s your priority,” Feyd says sternly.

You gasp. “N-No…”

Your husband’s head whips back to you. “I’m not watching you die,” he growls.

“For…our baby,” you say to Feyd’s hardened features. You cry harder for the pain of realizing that out of you and your baby, he would still choose you. You don’t know why you expected any different. In the five minutes of his presence, he gave no indication of a change of heart, but it’s disappointing all the same. “P-Please.”

The doctor doesn’t look up from the task at hand but listens for further instruction. “My Lord?”

Feyd stares at you for a long while, his expression unchanged. He doesn’t squeeze your hand or kiss your forehead or brush away the damp hair from your forehead with your next contraction. He doesn’t flinch at your joining shriek. He’s gone, lost in the world of his thoughts until he decides to come back. His eyes close. He grinds his back teeth. His brow pinches and he shakes his head.

“The baby,” Feyd struggles to get out. He pauses before he says, “And then my wife.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The next half-hour is white-hot, blinding agony. You can no longer move—a statue as the doctor slices pieces of you open to accommodate your child’s position. He doesn’t want to come out. He doesn’t want to leave his mother. You can’t blame him. If you had the same fate awaiting you upon joining the world, you might not rush to leave the confines of comfort either. He has no reason to separate himself from everything he’s known to fall into the hands of a man who does not love him. But his unwillingness to leave you is what will eventually take you from him.

You can feel it. The draining. Of blood. Of life. Your energy is long gone and at this point, you can’t imagine lasting long enough to be saved, even if you survive just in time to hear your baby’s first cry.

“We’re almost there,” the doctor says. His words are hazy as your brain drifts, struggling to keep you conscious. But then you feel a release of pressure, a missing weight. Emptiness. Solitude.

“Save my wife!” you hear in the aftermath, but you’re not worried about that. You need to know he’s ok and perfect and that he has all of his fingers and toes. You need to know if he has a dusting of hair on his head, or if he’s like your husband. Does he more resemble his father? Complexion and eyes and lips poutier than yours? You need to know these things about your son.

But you suppose you never will. Your vision is too blurry to make out his tiny form, but among Feyd’s shouts, you hear a beautiful little wail as your eyelids flutter closed. And that’s enough.

—

The last thing you heard upon your death is the first thing you hear when you wake. And it terrifies you. Surely, you should not be hearing that sound. If you can hear him, then he’s with you, and he can’t be with you because you’re not here. Not really. You don’t exist on the plane he should be existing on. You exist in darkness now, and he was only ever meant to see the light. That’s what you saved him for. That’s what you used every remaining ounce of your will and soul and heart to do. You left so he could stay. So how could he be with you?

“Can you hear him?”

Yes. You cannot see him, but you can hear him. He sounds so much like you remember. His coos are not the wails, but the noises are brothers. You part your lips to call his name only to realize you never got the chance to give him one.

“He’s perfect,” the voice says. “Everything about him.” A tear trickles down your cheek. “I need you to meet him. He wants to see his mother.”

You want to see him, too, so badly, and as you feel the desire, a flash of light shoots across your vision. One flash, and then another. Another flash, and then one more. Brightness obscures every image as your eyes shift, attempting to take in your surroundings. You’re not sure this is better. In the darkness, you can rest. This is simply torturous, and your baby is not even here.

Heat from a heavy, shaky sigh hits your skin. Relief. Lips land on yours for a long beat before finding your forehead. A skull presses to your skull. The breath is taken from your lungs by another kiss. A droplet splashes onto your cheek.

“You don’t ever do this to us again.” When your vision adjusts, your husband is there. “Do you understand me?”

You nod before you can think not to, before you can think that Feyd is not meant to be here, either. But if he is here, then why does he look so happy? Would he really rather the three of you be gone forever than to raise your baby without you? You scold your idiocy. Of course, he would.

“You were out for three days,” he says. “Longest three days of my life.”

Out. Not dead. Not gone.

Feyd helps you sit up. He disappears and then returns with a bundle of fabric. “Look,” he says, smiling, sniffling, and then smiling again. Two of his fingers gently nudge a section of the blanket aside to reveal a tiny face. Tiny nose, tiny lips, tiny eyes. Lashes that rest on tiny cheeks. A much smaller spitting image of your husband. “He’s got your eyes, I promise,” Feyd says, and your son proves it when his eyelids flutter open.

“Do you think you’ve got the strength to hold him?”

You nod again. “Y-Yes,” you say, like it’s your first word.

Feyd uncurls his arms from the baby and settles him into your awaiting ones. He’s lighter than you expected—probably to do with coming a little early—but the weight of him snaps the bits of you that were lagging behind in the unconscious world to the present. You gasp.

You’re alive. Your baby is alive. Your husband is here. They’re both beautiful. “I’m alive.”

Feyd sits back down in the chair that is pulled up to the side of your bed. He swallows. “Yes. Barely, for a moment, but…yes.”

You cuddle your baby to your chest and run your finger down his nose. He’s softer than the blanket that snuggles him. Soft like you rather than his father. He’ll grow strong like the man you can’t help loving, but he’ll have more heart, and that balance will make him a great Baron one day. A great man.

“Do you hate me?” Feyd asks. “For what I did?”

Your head hurts and you still feel groggy, but you’re aware enough to know that you don’t hate him. You can’t hate him. It shocks you that he doesn’t know that, but then again, he’d never done anything like what he did before, and if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t know that he wouldn’t do it again should you fall pregnant with another child. You don’t trust him right now, and there’s only one thing that could ever convince you to attempt repairing that trust.

“Do you love him?” you say as you gently rock your baby.

Feyd glances down at your son. There’s no contemplation. “More than anything.”

“You’ll protect him?”

His eyes flick back up to yours. “With my life,” he says. And you believe him.

You became a mother the second you felt that little life growing inside of you, but you can accept that upon looking at your son, spending time with him, your husband learned to become a father. Had you died, you don’t know what would have happened, but you can’t dwell on that and hope to keep your family together at the same time. He loves the child you made together, and that’s all you ever wanted.

“Then, no,” you tell him. “I don’t hate you.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #feyd rautha fic #dune 2

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avocado-writing · 4 months ago

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somno/cnc. minors dni.

thinking about old man Logan who you can tell needs to blow off steam. he works himself to death half the time, either as income earner or caregiver, and you want to be the thing which gives him a bit of levity at the end of his day. in an ideal world you’d always be waiting when he gets home, ready and willing, there to hear about his troubles and offer him whatever physical comfort he might seek from your soft little body. but you’re only human, and tiredness likes to take over your aching bones at the end of a long shift; it’s not always possible.

so you’ve given him the go-head to take what he needs from you even as you sleep.

he probably doesn’t want to take you up on the offer at first, it seems like he’s taking advantage, but you keep reassuring him that it’s something you want. something which kind of turns you on - and he can see that it’s true from the way you squeeze your thighs together as you speak. he smiles around his cigar and tells you, “we’ll see, doll.”

thinking about the first time Logan comes home, pent up and nearly feral with his need for you, only to see the lights are out in the bedroom and you’re dead asleep. it’s too hot to use blankets in this weather, you hate the way the fabric sticks to your skin, and you like to sleep in one of his shirts. in only one of his shirts. Logan can see the curve of your ass peeking out below the hem, the soft shape of your pussy, practically begging him to come fuck her.

who is he to deny his sweetheart what she wants?

he strips off, leaving his clothes in a trail towards the bed, fully naked and half-hard as he gently turns you over to face him. you shift a little, malleable and liquid under his touch even now. he runs a finger between your legs, dipping into your folds, and your chest hitches a little - but still you sleep.

he doesn’t know how he got so lucky, getting something as sweet as you in his world. the one thing worth going on for. rough, callused hands open your thighs so he can see you properly. you’re wet. fuck. always so needy for him, no matter what. he’ll take care of you, give you what you need, even if you don’t know it. it’s no big effort to push inside you. you’re always so good at taking him despite his size; you give a fluttery little exhale in your sleep as you feel yourself made full to the brim, happy with his tight fit.

slowly he begins to fuck you. shallow little thrusts of his hips, ones which are just enough to give him pleasure, though he’d rather take you roughly and wildly. doesn’t wanna wake you, after all. his hand drops to your clit and he gently begins to use his thumb there. there’s no way you’re not gonna come tonight, even if you aren’t awake to breathe out a thank you, lo as you always do.

it doesn’t take long. he feels your cunt twitch around him and speeds up a little, just enough to hear the slap of skin on skin quietly echo the room. a smothered grunt as he holds himself back, quickening the pace of his thumb. your body tightens and then releases, flooding his cock with you as you come for him while you slumber.

he can’t be far behind from that. fuck, you always look so pretty when you come. his hips land in a slapdash rhythm and then he’s spilling inside you. he has to fall forward and brace himself against the mattress from the force of it. when he’s able to open his eyes in the afterglow you look… happy. stuffed full and sound asleep. Logan slowly withdraws his cock from you, happy you’re both satisfied, and drops a kiss onto your forehead before lying down next to you and gathering you into his arms.

he’d clean you up usually, but tonight? he leaves the mess there so you can find it in the morning. he can see your smile now.

#cw: cnc #my writing #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #wolverine fanfiction #mcu fandom #old man Logan x reader #old man Logan x you #Old man Logan imagine #Xmen smut

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anantaru · 9 months ago

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⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ i like the way you kiss me, i can tell you miss me

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your ex boyfriend childe recently found out that you've been seeing another guy lately. // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. jealous! childe, rough & needy, exes missing each other but not admitting it, hinted at a previous toxic relationship between you two, fem! reader ♡

"did he touch you like this?" childe mumbles against your ear as his hand slowly slid over your curves, touching your body.

the impact this brazen question had on you made your body shudder in embarrassment, not only that but you could feel your own blood being forced to frenziedly race through your shape with every new drag of his cock dashing ripples of glee into you.

he knows what he's doing, he's planned this.

the harbinger knows everything apparently, or perhaps he's actually made up an entire different story to what he thought happened on your date.

he cups your cheek and runs his thumb across your bottom lip reverently, "or was he rougher?" slower?" he taunts, and there's an instant jolt of pride up the harbinger's spine when he notices how you're embarrassingly averting his satisfied gaze.

he hasn't lost his grip on you yet, he's sure of it, and he welcomed that you're so easy to read, to the point where you'd choke on a cry consistently, more so when he rushed through that one spot he would never forget to stimulate.

"w-why does it matter?" your words come out quicker than your mind could've properly processed them as you whimper out wetly to him.

you quirk up a brow, feeling a tender hold of confidence aid your frame, "aah— it's not like we're dating anymore or anything,"

that breathy, almost belittling laugh that tumbled over your parted mouth reached his heart, fracturing his vitality.

"we're broken up, ajax, please," you shuffle your arms around his neck before abruptly pulling him towards you, so your lips could brush against his ear shell as you whisper seductively;

"i can fuck whoever i want,"

tilting his head, instead of falling for it, childe confidently cocks a brow before planting a wet kiss on your cheek, "huh? archons, what a mouth you got on yourself," as he spreads, burns and dominates your glistening walls until he's certain you're where he needed you to be— vulnerable to him, perhaps even admitting the truth and stopping your bratty mouth to spill anymore wrongs.

"come on, will you? come on," he laughs manically, his hips jerking hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs as your breasts bounce in tandem with his ruthless thrust, "don't pretend like he'll ever catch up to me, fuck— baby..." he grinds deeper, watching how a nasty ring of white covers the majority of his base.

you roll your eyes but know he's right— because no one could ever unlock the love you've had for ajax before you two had broken up. those rough hands of his were your everything, in comparison to how he used them against his enemies, towards you, he wielded them lightly.

you squeeze and squeeze him, practically telling him that yes, you've missed him so much but no, you're not willing to ever get in a relationship with him again. for that, you've put in too much work already to forget about ajax, the man you loved so unconditionally.

"doesn't matter," your voice echos like a soft whimper as you hug him, desperately wanting to feel how all his inches were painfully throbbing while squeezed by your walls, "we. don't. work." concurrently to his sultry rolls, you pant out a crushing reality.

childe didn't want to hear that, not now, not ever again.

he pushes inside and groans out hot against your ear, before forcing himself to move his hips slower, despite the expanded lust inside of him wanting to slam right into you, fuck— the harbinger was aggravated, frustrated and saddened at the same time. not because of you, yet due to the fact that primarily, it was his fault that things ended on how they did.

a candid confession should never find its way inside of a situation this unrepeatable, "i love you," he whines, his cock plunging with passion as if to emphasize his spelled out words.

your mouth opens instantly for a rebuttal as he swiftly runs a hand down your breasts, pinching your nipples, desperate to swallow up your mewls and keep them stored within him.

foreheads pressed against each other, no words said out loud.

childe regrets everything right now, because you are just his everything, his all.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin Impact smut #childe x reader #childe smut #childe x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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adolin · 1 year ago

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TLT thought of the day is that more posts about John Gaius should engage with the fact that he's explicitly an indigenous man. Especially content about pre-Resurrection John and his backstory, intentions, politics, ambitions etc. He's a product of an environment that Tamsyn goes out of her way to describe.

This is noteworthy, because TM doesn't give much thought about race when it comes to the rest of her characters. It's not a key aspect of the present day side of her worldbuilding; see the sparing physical descriptions, her 'take it or leave it' Word of God on the matter. It's not something that she makes a priority to communicate to the reader, and clearly not a big deal for any House or BoE characters that we've seen.

This is what makes John's backstory VERY noteworthy by comparison. Or, rather, the care Tamsyn put into it.

Compare that one GtN character description post — “Judith is Pasifika and Isaac is Chinese and Magnus is Samoan and Abigail is white, but this mostly in my head and you can picture them as monitor lizards if you want” — compare that to the way she really goes out of her way in NtN to make sure that the readers know that John is Māori, and it's something that absolutely shaped his 30-something years on earth.

Like, it's spelled out multiple times, it's not something for the keen-eyed repeat reader to puzzle out. He's explicitly referred to as Māori; Tamsyn specifically namedropped Dilworth; she sketched an underprivileged background for both him and G. lot of John's obsessive attitude about his world-saving project — no compromises and acting now and nobody left behind — it echoes the concern that small island nations have repeatedly expressed towards the climate crisis, and predictably bigger rich countries don't give a shit about.

IDK where I'm getting at! But I think it's a fundamental part of his character that we sometimes overlook. We all live in a society etc, and the society John created is very very different from the one he grew up in — but it's the latter that shaped him.

#tlt thoughts #ejg #tlt

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iwanty0uu · 6 months ago

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*ੈ‧₊˚ circa 2001 ✩

word count: 1180

You felt his hazel eyes trace the lining of your soft curves in the background of his video shoot, as you sat cutely on the hellcat that was parked in the middle of the street. It’s black shiny exterior was warm to the touch, slightly burning the fat of your thighs that were soon to be caressed by the dark-skinned man who couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were his 2000’s video vixen, black dark hair cut in layers and straightened, slightly blowing in the warm summer breeze, jeans shorts hiked up slightly, but not too much to reveal your delicates. Your cut up and cropped wife beater held your perky breasts beautifully while you sported a black leather jacket, and a diesel purse. It was safe to say that you put that shit on, you admired your knee high rick’s while adjusting your black bra, fixing your hair and pulling out your lipgloss, adjusting it while looking at your reflection on the car’s hood.You winked seductively as the camera’s panned around the rapper, then shifted it’s focus to you. You didnt know if he was eyeing you down for cinematic reasons, but all questions left your mind as he asked for your name while you all were on lunch break.

“I’m Y/n” you said casually as you bit into your sandwich, drinking your mango Arizona, you paused and your eyes met his,

“I noticed that you stare a lot, so what’s your name?” You asked smiling, dusting off bread crumbs from your hand, digging into your fries. “Oh I’m sorry ma, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” he chuckled, his smile lit up the room, admiring the way his grillz fit perfectly in his mouth, comforted by his soft plush mauve lips, his tongue swirled around them quickly as he tucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting against the soft supple flesh that was now rosy and glossy. His skin was perfect, including the scar that rested on his forehead and under his eye, thick perfect eyebrows that held a small slit in his left one, perfectly aligned with the discolored line on his forehead. His hair was low and wavy, shaped perfectly and cut, chalk fresh and highlighted against his dewy skin. His goatee was short, but still sexy, emphasizing his youth and maturity all at once. “I’m Onyankopon..”

You were all over him.. so you couldn’t blame yourself as you were currently being bent over the trunk of the hellcat that was now parked in the huge garage that wasn’t too far away from the shoot.He slowly slid himself inside of you, as the knees below you went weak , loosing count of the amount of orgasms that he talked you through.His clean hands gently rubbed on your clit as he thrusted into your hole, sucking on your neck, palming your round breasts with his free hand, his soft and sticky skin was caressing yours as he slid his hand from your chest and trailed up your neck, grabbing your silk press and pulling your head back, forcing your tear filled eyes open.

“Look at you baby girl, you hear that?”

He asked as the set called for the both of you, their cries drowned out by the squelching of your flower, she loved the attention that she was receiving, and you felt as if you were close. His mushroom shaped tip entered and exited out of you, periodically rubbing on your clit, and then ramming itself back inside of you as he whispered in your ear.The sloppy sounds of sex echoed against the concrete walls, bouncing off of the metal of the most expensive cars that you’ve ever seen.You were grateful for the fact that there were no cameras.

“Fuckkk Onyyyy” you whispered, this intimate moment made even more intense since it was only your second time having sex. No matter how good he made you feel, you still were ashamed that you were able

to give in so quickly and wished that you would have waited at least before you let him fuck, feeling like this was meaningless. It was just a quickie..and shortly,the sensation that was once closing in had left when your focus did, and he noticed..His strokes slowed down as he pulled out, turning you around to face him. He slowly slid himself inside again , groaning while he kissed you, “Get outta your head mama, it’s just us, no one will know.” His muscled arms wrapped around you as you pulled on the neck of his white tee, under the green jersey he put on after an outfit change.

“We just met, but I wont break your heart love..just-fuckkkkk-“

He moaned as you began to squeeze around him, his voice turned you on to the point that you could cum right then and there, the way you gripped him almost made him faint, his thrusts became more calculated, almost mean as he kept his focus, eyes low,biting back stammers and hisses on every word.

“But I-shit..I want something with you Y/n..I- oh my gosh, I just want you, I’d-damn I’d drop everything, every other bitch, -this pussy gon kill my ass one day”

You listened to his voice , bucking your hips to match his rhythm, internalizing every word while he carried you through your high.

“FUCK! Ony I’m cominnn baby”

You plead grabbing his head, anything you could find because you needed him close, kissing his neck with the remaining lipgloss left, you moaned into his ears with relief, breath slowly steadying.Ony left a trail of butterfly kisses all along your face and neck, as his hips began to twitch, feeling the release of his sperm through the condom. The quiet zip of his pants brought you back to his senses as his hands slid around your waist to lift you up, sitting you on the roof of the car. He rumaged through his pockets for hand sanitizer, and baby wipes lending you a clean rag that the set gave him as “Part of his fit” to wipe off.Them big ass pockets held his life.

“Hear what my love,” His hands rested on your thighs, still standing in between your legs. “ I’ll take you out to eat later, we can go shopping, I’ll take you to the car dealer even, we can go shopping, I want you to use my card and we can even go on tour if you want, or keep it private-“

You smiled shyly, looking down as he kissed your hands..

He caught himself simping over a girl he just met like a looser and laughed while he kissed your forehead again, catching himself before be accidentally love-bombed you.

“Listen baby, what I’m tryna say is that I want you..bad, and if I fuck up just remember this moment okay?”

“Okay Onyankopon do you pinky swear?Because you will be kept to your word.” you blushed while looking at him sternly, holding a painted finger out, he laughed at your child-like behavior, kissing your pinky before intertwining his with your own…

“Pinky Promise”…

dk how i feel abt this but one shots comin soon lol ~𝓵𝓮𝓵𝓮

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moonlight-joy · 12 days ago

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Hearts of Fire

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: Your betrothal to Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, begins as a political match but blossoms into a profound partnership grounded in trust, love, and shared purpose. From taming dragons to navigating the weight of duty, your connection deepens, transforming a union of alliances into a bond destined to shape the future of House Targaryen. Amid the backdrop of Dragonstone, your wedding marks the beginning of a legacy forged in fire and strengthened by unwavering devotion.

Pairing: Reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and smoke as you stood on the cliffs overlooking Dragonstone, your gaze fixed on the waves crashing below. This island, with its volcanic peaks and watchful dragons, was now your home, a place where your fate had intertwined with Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne. Betrothed since childhood to solidify alliances, you had known Jace for years, but seeing him now, standing at the gates to greet you, made your heart race. The boy you once knew was gone, replaced by a man whose commanding presence and warm smile disarmed your nervousness.

“Welcome to Dragonstone,” he said, offering his hand. “It’s been too long.”

Placing your hand in his, you smiled, feeling the strength in his grip. “Far too long. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“And yet, I’d know you anywhere,” he replied with sincerity that made your chest tighten. From that moment, the boy you once knew faded, and the man standing before you became someone new—your partner, your future.

In the days that followed, Jace took it upon himself to reacquaint you with Dragonstone and, more importantly, its dragons. One morning, he led you to the dragonpit, his excitement palpable as he introduced you to Vermax, his bondmate. The dragon’s golden-green scales shimmered in the sunlight, his fiery eyes locking onto you with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Dragons sense more than you think,” Jace said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “They feel your intentions. If you approach with confidence, he’ll respect you.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding as Vermax’s sharp gaze fixed on you. “And if I don’t?”

Jace grinned, his confidence infectious. “Then he’ll sense your strength another way. You’re braver than you think.”

With his words echoing in your mind, you stepped forward, extending a hand toward Vermax. The dragon’s warm breath brushed against your skin, and as your fingers touched his scales, a surge of exhilaration coursed through you. Behind you, Jace’s pride was unmistakable.

“You did it,” he said, his tone filled with admiration. “See? You’re a natural.”

“Or he’s just being kind,” you teased, though your smile betrayed your joy.

Jace laughed, his brown eyes sparkling. “Dragons aren’t kind. He recognizes something in you—just as I do.”

As time passed, your bond with Jace deepened. The political match that had brought you together became something far more meaningful. In quiet moments stolen from the demands of duty, he shared his fears and dreams, his hopes for a peaceful realm tempered by the weight of his lineage.

One evening, as the two of you walked along the battlements of Dragonstone, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of red and gold, Jace paused, his expression thoughtful. “Do you think I’ll be a good king?” he asked softly.

You turned to face him, linking your arm with his. “I think you’ll be a great king.”

He shook his head, his uncertainty clear. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever be enough.”

Placing your hand on his cheek, you met his gaze with unwavering conviction. “You are more than enough, Jace. You care for your people, for your family. That’s what will make you a great ruler. And you won’t be alone—I’ll be by your side.”

His expression softened, his lips curving into a faint smile. “With you, I can believe that.”

Jace’s tenderness extended beyond words. He admired your strength and sought your counsel on matters of court, treating you as his equal in every sense. One night, as you sat together in the solar, he reached for your hand, his gaze steady. “Do you ever wonder if this was meant to be?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You tilted your head, your heart fluttering at the question. “Our betrothal?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Us. This connection. I’ve known you my whole life, and yet every moment with you feels new, like we were always meant to find each other.”

His words left you breathless, your heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t wonder,” you replied softly. “I know.”

The day of your wedding was one of celebration and fire. The skies above Dragonstone filled with the cries of dragons, their shadows weaving across the stone as lords and ladies gathered to witness your union. Standing beside Jace, your hands clasped tightly together, you felt the weight of your shared destiny settle over you like a mantle. Yet, it was not heavy—it was a promise, one you were ready to fulfill.

“You are my future,” Jace whispered as the High Septon bound your hands with a ribbon of red and black. “And I am yours.”

“And together,” you replied, your voice steady, “we will shape a legacy that will endure.”

As the ceremony concluded and the court erupted into cheers, Jace leaned in to kiss you, his touch a blend of passion and reverence. The roar of dragons echoed through the halls, a reflection of the fire that burned within you both. Your life with Jace was just beginning, but already you knew it would be a story of love, strength, and unity—a tale of two hearts bound by fire and a shared dream of a brighter future. Together, you would forge a legacy worthy of the Targaryen name.

Please support my work with like and comment

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #hotd #asoiaf fanfic #hotd fanfic

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instaspacenoodles · 2 months ago

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Hello! I saw your asks were open and wanted to know if you'd be ok with this headcanons request: Wuthering Waves male characters finding out fem/Reader has a tacet mark in an embarrassing area (we have most characters with normal places like hand, neck, back, but what about when you can't show your tacet mark)? Have a great day!

✧₊⊹Finding Your Tacet Mark | Jiyan, Calcharo & Scar

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 — Fem!Reader, Suggestive, Light kissing, light NSFW

✧ 𝐉𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐧

Jiyan had you pinned against the desk in his office. Even though this was far from professional, he just had to let himself indulge in a small bit of you. It was rare to see you dressed in such casual clothes outside of your Ranger Uniform and the sight of you in that short skirt made him feel like a starving man. He didn’t waste any time pulling you into his office the first chance he saw, unable to take the temptation anymore.

The soft blush on your cheeks only encouraged his exploration. His strong hands sliding up your stocking clad thighs, propping your legs higher so he can see you in all of your beauty. The motion pushed your skirt up to pool around your hips, giving him a damn good view. Oh, but the man wanted more… so much more of you that he was slowly going crazy. One of his fingers hooked into the thin fabric of your stocking to slowly pull them down. Jiyan was like a kid unwrapping a present on Christmas morning and you can clearly see the anticipation growing in his eyes. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as he revealed what you had been hiding from him all this time - your tacet mark placement. His brow quirks up, interest flashing in his eyes at finding the unique placement on your thigh of all places. No wonder you always made sure to keep it hidden with your uniform - he wouldn’t know how to focus if you were constantly exposing this area.

Rough fingertips brush over the darken star shaped marks on your skin, tracing the pattern slowly with a hum of approval. You advert your eyes from the sight, mumbling under your breath how embarrassing it was for the mark to appear on your inner thigh of all places.

“Don’t be embarrassed, love.” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he leans down to press his lips against the source of your power. His golden eyes flickered up as a shutter rushed through your body, his ears being rewarded with the sounds of your soft moans. He couldn’t help but be a little smug at finding another sensitive spot on your gorgeous body.

“I’ll show you how beautiful your tacet mark is.”

✧ 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐨

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall of the Ghost Hounds’ base as Calcharo chased after you. You couldn’t help but let out a mischievous giggle as your feet swiftly carried you around the corner. Excitement and anticipation coursed through your veins as the game of cat and mouse continued. It was only a matter of time before you were caught.

The footsteps drew ever closer and you were running out of places to go. You turned left at another intersection. As you ran, you realized that this hallway was definitely the wrong choice to make your grand escape. You reached the dead end. It wasn’t before long a hand caught your arm and pulled you back with a gentle tug. Your body was pushed against the cool surface of the wall seconds later. You gaze up at Calcharo’s calculating stare with a semi innocent look on your face.

“You have something that belongs to me, doll. Now, my shirt please?” The man raised an eyebrow, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Though, even with his stoic nature, you could clearly see the amusement in his expression- essentially with the small quirk of his lips. He had definitely enjoyed this little trick of yours. You gave him your best pouty face as he tried to remove the shirt, lifting it over your head. Though his motion froze when his eyes caught a familiar star shaped marking on your hip. You looked down to where he was staring and- oh. The tacet mark.

Heat of embarrassment flooded your veins as you tried to squirm away. Too bad Calcharo’s hold on your wrist was unrelenting. “Seems like you've been hiding something else from me.”

Your mouth opens as you try to come up with an excuse, anything to explain why you never showed him the placement of that mark. Yet only a squeak escaped when his cool fingers brushed against it without warning. Oh that shouldn’t have affected you the way it did. Amusement had definitely bled more into his expression - that rare, goddamn smirk pulling at his lips.

“That’s it, be a good girl and stay still for me.” Your knees got just a bit weaker from his voice, “Let me investigate this mark you tried to hide from me.”

✧ 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫

A sigh leaves your lips as you open the door to the bathroom, steam pouring out as you walk. There was a towel wrapped around your damp body, hair still dripping from the water. You have moved over to your drawers when warm arms suddenly wrap around your middle. A chin found its place on your shoulder and you could feel the person’s soft hair brush against your ear. You jolted a little in surprise at the sudden gesture but you knew exactly whose arms they belong to. There was only one person that would invite themselves into your house with no warning.

Scar makes a delightful hum as he presses against you from behind, his hands wasting no time in exploring the natural curves of your body covered by the towel. The man was always the touchy type no matter who was around and where they were. He made sure to find any situation to make you flustered.

“My, what an interesting placement” His tone was a smug one, like he had just discovered a rare, hidden treasure. It took you a few moments to realize what exactly he was talking about before you clutch the towel tighter in embarrassment. Your tacet mark, resting right above your breasts, was currently out in all of its glory. He was never meant to see it - you had kept it dutifully hidden for a reason! Now, he was definitely going to abuse that knowledge. You sputter trying to get an explanation out, your hands pulling the towel up higher to cover the dark, star-shaped marks from his sight. A laugh rings in your ears as he turns you both to face the mirror next to the closet. You can spot his signature shit eating grin in the reflection as his hands reach up to replace yours with his own. The towel, your last line of defense, fell to the floor with a thud.

“Oh no, don’t even think about hiding it now, little sheep” He mutters in your reddened ears, “I’m definitely going to have fun with you~”

#wuthering waves #wuwa jiyan #wuwa scar #wuwa x reader #wuwa calcharo #calcharo x reader #calcharo #calcharo wuthering waves #jiyan wuthering waves #jiyan x reader #scar wuthering waves #scar x reader #jiyan x you #calcharo x you #scar x you #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x y/n #fem reader

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captain-joongz · 10 months ago

Text

Cream soda

Pairing: non-idol!Baekhyun x f!reader

Genre: annoyances to lovers, friends to lovers, smut, fluff

Word count: 6.6k

Summary: Baekhyun eats your pussy in the backseat of his car. That's pretty much it.

Warnings: reader is a little bratty at first, subby reader, dom-ish Baekhyun, dirty talk (i am so weak for this man, i didn't even have control over what came outta his mouth), some allusions to slight humiliation, overuse of petnames, fingering, oral (both f and m receiving), deepthroating, face fucking, cum eating

A/N: okay, this was a little unplanned. i was just watching exo cream soda moments and then suddenly thoughts of this man wouldn't leave me until i put this into words, so enjoy this impromptu piece as a little gift inbetween the scheduled content

„Ugh, I should have hitched a ride with Kai and Sehun,” I muttered under my breath as I side-eyed Baekhyun behind the wheel loudly belting out effortless high notes along to some pop song playing on the radio. The man in question giggled with his high voice and continued singing even louder, throwing amused looks my way with a mischievous smirk.

“Come on, princess, I know you love spending time with me,” he teased, lips shaping into a sly grin and eyes flitting between me and the road. I scoffed and folded my arms over my chest and looked out of the window sulkily.

“Yeah, when you’re quiet,” I murmured, which made Baekhyun laugh at me again and continue amusing himself with singing. I wouldn’t admit it to him out loud, lest I inflate his already humongous ego even more, but I did find myself awed with his voice every time he just casually started singing as if he was paid to do it. Outwardly I scowled, but I did like to listen to him when he did, which was always, as it seemed the man was incapable of shutting up.

Me and Baekhyun were kind of distaste at first sight. I’d gotten to know Kai in a dance class I took up in my free time and he occasionally came in to teach, and we made friends right away, the young dancer’s shy and genuine personality making it impossible to not love him. Before I knew it, I spent most of my Wednesday’s classes giggling away in a corner with him, trading stupid jokes and laughing at tom-foolery we came up with. I was kind of hopeless at dancing, but Kai made it so much fun I just loved coming back every week even though I knew I would definitely never learn to dance as he did. He was the one who taught me having fun and loving that I’m moving is more important than trying to be perfect, and I approached those classes with a free spirit and desire for a good time.

In time I started hanging out with Jongin even outside of those Wednesday’s evenings and gradually was introduced to most of his friend group, most of the time hanging out with him and Sehun, occasionally Chanyeol tagging along.

When I finally met all eight of them, it was at Jongin’s birthday party. I was sat next to Junmyeon, holding polite conversation with him about our respective careers, when Baekhyun arrived. Really, I could hear him long before the door even opened, but when it did, it was pure chaos. He waltzed in, dressed to the nines, screaming something and immediately running over to the youngsters and hugging them. For the whole evening, no matter where I was sitting or who I was talking to, there seemed to be a constant Baekhyun hum in the background. I could just always hear him and even though I barely talked to him, I knew everything he said to every single person in the room, because he was just incapable of speaking at a lower volume. And even worse, his energy and aura just drew my eyes and I found myself slipping and watching him interact with others, all wide smiles, silly antics and loud laughs. By the time I was walking home through the night city, the sound of his teasing voice and carefree giggles were ingrained into my brain, ringing like an echo even though I was long gone from his company.

So, the next time I was invited to another event with all of Jongin’s hyungs, I went in already a little annoyed with the man, which was made even worse by the fact that I got stuck sitting next to him. He would tease me, joke about everything I said and randomly butt into conversations I had with others. After hours of sitting next to him, I was at my Baekhyun limit.

Now, with time as we hung out more as a group, I’d gotten more used to him and even found myself laughing at his shenanigans, but my pride didn’t allow me to show it, especially since he started teasing me about being so uptight and never joking around with them. I would just find myself immediately ticked off anytime I could see his eyes fall onto me and that infuriating self-pleased smirk spread on his lips, brain already coming up with ways to embarrass me (I wasn’t actually embarrassed, and I had a feeling Baekhyun knew that otherwise he’d stop, but I wouldn’t say that out loud. I guess there’s just a lot of things I wouldn’t admit to him.). I enjoyed our little “rivalry” and learnt to balance Baekhyun’s wild energy with cold stares and deadpan delivery of sarcastic remarks. All in all, we actually worked quite well together.

That being said, I still did find him annoying. Especially when he rolled into events dressed in a way that accentuated every little attractive detail about him (and there were many) and threw his trademark smirks with hints and teases of tongue at anyone he pleased. I’d seen him in so many white or black tees that either perfectly showed off his biceps or teased his chiselled chest, with pretty necklaces and chains that drew attention to his neck and sharp jawline. More often than not I found myself going absolutely crazy with just one look at him, only to immediately want to smack him the moment he opened his mouth. Being around him was always just a whirlwind of confused lust and irritation.

Tonight was no exception.

Around new years there started to be talks of taking one extended weekend in the spring, renting out a nice loft somewhere in the woods and going there to drink and have fun. When the time came, we only had to decide who would ride with who. I originally was meant to go with Kai and Sehun, but they both wanted to take their girlfriends and in the end I couldn’t squish into the car with them, even though we tried. I attempted to ask the other boys, but mostly their cars were completely full with either people or supplies and couldn’t take on more baggage and an extra person. At this point Baekhyun stepped in and offered, because he had a car (I did not, I rode a bike most days and didn’t get a license for cars) and even though he originally planned to go with Chanyeol, it would be easier for him to go in his own and take me too. I reluctantly agreed. It was one thing to be spending time with him when there were other people present, but being shut in the car with him for hours, I had no idea how much I would be able to take.

I knew I was in for a wild ride (pun not intended) when he showed up dressed in washed out jeans with white streaks and splashes, white tee and a black lather jacket with snakeskin motive, his usual chains and necklaces contrasting with his smooth skin, teasing his neck and collarbone, and his white and black hair styled perfectly around his sharp beautiful face. He was leaning against his sleek black car with a smug grin and my knees were weak the moment I spotted him. So here I was, hours later, listening to him sing his heart out while looking like a fucking model and annoying the shit out of me.

It was already dark outside and I was getting antsy. We should have been getting closer but somehow our destination was still god knows how many kilometres away. I was hoping we could get there in time for dinner and a good night’s sleep, as tomorrow we a had lot planned, but several hours and two turn-backs later I started giving up hope.

“Are we even getting closer or are you just going to keep me in this car listening to your singing for the entire night?” I grumbled sharply and Baekhyun turned to me with a self-assured grin.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon,” he answered with a wink, “you’re pretty grumpy when you get hungry, I’d prefer to feed you before I get my head bitten off.” Just then his phone beeped and the maps app started flashing a warning that he was no longer getting any signal and couldn’t be tracked. I groaned loudly while Baekhyun just cursed at it and pulled over at the first available spot. We were currently somewhere in the mountains, on the tiny little winding roads with little space. According to the surroundings, we should be close to the cabin, but for the love of god we just couldn’t find our way there, and the reason was the stupid fucking phone Baekhyun was currently furiously tapping while cursing under his breath. I sighed again and watched him lose a battle to the piece of technology.

“I swear I’m usually a really responsible chauffeur, it’s just because my phone is broken,” the white haired man said with a little nervous laugh, “It seems to be having trouble getting signal and therefore the GPS doesn’t work.” I just looked at him wordlessly, tired and annoyed, and raised my eyebrow.

“Okay, Miss Mad-at-the-world, pull out your phone then, let’s use your GPS,” Baekhyun joked, but I could hear an undertone of annoyance in his voice, which made me instantly angry. I did pull my phone out and unlocked it and then tapped with my finger to the right top corner. It read 10 % battery. This time it was Baekhyun who groaned loudly and then hit his head lightly on the top of the steering wheel.

“Well, then this might be the end of our journey,” he admitted sheepishly, “at least until my phone starts cooperating again.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I growled, the anger finally getting the better of me. Baekhyun looked at me sharply, his squinted eyes showing displeasure at my tone.

“I’m not happy about it either, you think I wanna be stuck in a car?” he spit back, just as fired up, “I’m hungry and I wanna sit down on a couch and watch a movie.” I threw a glare at him and then turned around to stubbornly look out the window, continuing my grumbling.

“God, I knew that driving with you was going to be trouble, I should have just pushed my way into Sehun’s car,” I mumbled petulantly, admittedly acting just a tiny bit like a little kid, “This is all because of you and your stupid broken phone.”

At this, Baekhyun groaned, his head thrown back hitting the seat as his hands flexed into the steering wheel. I watched it unfold in the reflection of the window and suddenly found a spark of a different heat running through my veins. I shuddered and squeezed my thighs together, surprised by the force of the unexpected arousal. Baekhyun was none the wiser, as he launched into an angry spiel.

“God, why do you always get so angry with me?!” he asked incredulously, “Every time I think we’re finally getting better, you go and get annoyed with me for no fucking reason! Even Jongin came to me and asked if I did something to you and you just didn’t want to tell him! I had to very embarrassingly explain to him that I didn’t know either why you just seem to hate me and only me!” Shame flooded me at my behaviour and I realised that of course everyone else seemed to pick up at my weird attitude when it came to this man. I truly found myself regretful at how genuinely upset Baekhyun seemed to be about not knowing what he did to irk me, especially since it was mostly my problem with how he made me feel than him actually doing anything irksome, but at that moment my brain was so overridden by lust that I couldn’t even tell him anything, because it felt as if I was melting and I couldn’t muster up a single thought except for how much I wanted to fucking jump him, months of repressed longing coming to the surface after I’d had to spend hours watching him be effortlessly attractive while driving.

“So tell me, what did I ever do to you?” Baekhyun exclaimed and turned to look at me, only to promptly freeze. I was already looking at him, having abandoned the window the moment he started talking, and suddenly anxiousness filled me at his expression. I was breathing quite hard and hoped it wasn’t as loud as I feared, the blush spilling over my face down my neck.

Baekhyun must have seen something in my unguarded expression, because suddenly he was relaxing into his seat, his previous anger and frustration melting into a smug smirk. I nervously fiddled with the edge of my skirt, embarrassment flooding me.

“I see,” he purred, his eyes flitted over my figure and filled with desire, “I understand now.” Then he abruptly leaned over to my side, one of his hands falling onto my thigh and gently squeezing, the other leaning onto the top of my seat, fingers tangling softly into my hair. Before I could stop myself, I let out a quiet little whimper, thighs squeezing on instinct, trapping his hand halfway between my legs. It felt as if our faces were just millimetres apart, breath mingling and lips almost brushing each other. I was entranced by his eyes, darkened by lust, expression suddenly sharpened by the arousal that was palpable in the air.

Then he chuckled, a shit-eating grin slipping onto his face, and pulled away. I took a deep breath, suddenly realising I stopped when he descended into my personal space. Baekhyun gave me a cheeky wink and started unbuckling his seat belt. Before I even processed what was happening, he was stepping out of the car into the dark.

When I wasn’t moving, he bent down a little and looked at me through the open door, the grin still held fast on his face.

“What are you waiting for, princess? Get into the back seat.” His voice kept the teasing lilt, but there was a rough undertone to it and it did something to me, heat spreading rapidly through every pore of my being. He stepped back and the door slammed shut. Before I could think about it, I unbuckled as well and launched myself back through the little gap between the seats. When Baekhyun opened the door, I was already sitting there, waiting for him with wide eyes and mouth agape, hair and clothes messed up from the struggle and breathing heavily. He froze for a second and then started laughing as he crawled in onto the furnishing.

“How eager,” Baekhyun purred, his beautiful face twisting with a little twinge of aroused savageness, clearly getting off on my obedience and lust. I felt my pussy throb at his words and the tone of his voice, fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs in anticipation.

“Lay down on your back, princess,” Baekhyun instructed me and started taking off his leather jacket, his gaze following my every movement as I started shuffling to make enough space. I ended up having to spread my thighs to make enough space for the kneeling man, but still had to awkwardly lean my head in a sharp angle on the door behind me. This had my skirt falling back and basically revealing my black underwear to his hungry eyes.

I whimpered again, hands flexing in my lap, inadvertently bunching up the fabric of the skirt even more. At the sound Baekhyun’s gaze snapped to my face, a predatory smirk on his lips painting him in a completely different light than I’d been used to. For some reason I was expecting him to keep his light-hearted teasing persona even in bed, so I was wholly unprepared for this sudden dark lustful aura that seemed to consume him from the inside out.

Knowing he had my full attention, his hands suddenly grasped my ankles, startling a gasp out of me at the unexpected contact, and then his fingers lightly, teasingly made their way up to my knees. He tapped there a few times, watching their journey fascinated, before they continued on down the inside of my thighs. My legs twitched a little, a gush of wetness hitting my now completely soaked panties, while I waited with bated breath for his next move.

“You should have told me sooner, baby, I would have fucked the attitude out of you months ago,” Baekhyun’s voice rough with arousal suddenly rung out through the silent car and hit me to my core, cunt tightening around nothing at the lewdness of his words.

Before I could even reply, his hand pressed onto my wet clothed heat, fingers teasing the slit with slight pressure, and I moaned loudly, back arching off of the seats. My body was reacting to his presence and touch so viscerally it would almost scare me if I had the mental capacity to think about anything else than his fingers near my pussy.

I watched as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, his eyes trained on his hand playing with my panties, a whimper falling out of me when I imagined it between my legs. Baekhyun didn’t seem to be paying me much attention, rather focused on feeling out my pussy through my underwear. His other hand discreetly moved down his own body and squeezed his crotch, a shudder wracking through his body, eyes falling close with a pleased little sigh. I replied to the sight with a moan of my own, my mouth falling open as the last of my thoughts trickled out of my mind and were completely replaced by the vision that was Baekhyun pleasuring himself in front of me.

He peeked at me, watching me from under half-lidded eyes, the smirk on his face turning a little sharper. I was a little embarrassed by how easy it was for him to completely deconstruct me to a whimpering mess, and he barely even did anything, but clearly it was doing wonders for Baekhyun’s ego as he was exuding smugness while looking down on me. It made him look so powerful, like me and my pleasure were beneath him and I should be glad that he was even touching me in the first place, and that thought made me moan again, eyes rolling back into my head as I arched and pressed my pussy more onto his fingers.

He chuckled and obliged, pushing my panties to the side and running his fingers through my wet slit, thumb circling my clit while two of his fingers played with my entrance. I moaned and gasped, my whole body trembling with delicious tension as the waves of pleasure finally hit me full force.

“Please,” I gasped out, pussy pulsing with Baekhyun’s incessant teasing, “God, Baekhyun, please do something.” His fingers suddenly plunged in, but I was so wet and ready, they went in with no problem at all. A high pitched moan left my mouth and I gripped the edge of the seat. Everything seemed to spin along with the circles Baekhyun’s thumb was doing on my clit and I felt my sanity slowly slipping away, as the tingling feeling filled my whole body.

His fingers were just perfect, thick and a little bony, pretty and elegant, filling me in a way I was craving for months, and as he started unhurriedly pumping them in and out, I gasped and sighed and moaned with the mounting pleasure. For a moment I let myself be carried by the wave, eyes closed mouth opened just riding the burning feeling coiling in my belly, but then he stopped and pulled his hand away. Before I could stop myself I whined, long and drawn pitiful sound that made Baekhyun teasingly sneer at me with delight.

“Don’t cry, princess,” he whispered, voice rough and deeper than usual, “I’m just trying to figure out what you need.” With that he shifted and my attention was brought back to the bulge in his own pants, but he snapped his fingers, drawing my eyes back to his face. I felt myself blush at the open hunger and amusement in his gaze, knowing what I’d been looking at.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” Baekhyun continued, leaning a bit forward so he could look down on me with more of an impact. I whimpered and my thighs spasmed. His hand grabbed onto one and stabilised it with a soft caress. “Do you want my fingers? Hmm?” he asked with a faux curiosity on his handsome sharp face, “Or maybe something else?” His tongue poked out of his mouth again and unwittingly I gasped and nodded slightly before I could even think about it.

Baekhyun’s face crumpled into a smug smirk again, all sympathy draining out and getting replaced by pure hunger and lust. A bolt of desire pulsed through my entire body so strong I was surprised I didn’t physically jerk. Then he bent slightly over, kissing the skin of my knee. His eyes, ever so vigilant, watched hungrily for my reaction, and when I gasped slightly and tensed in his hold, it seemed to satisfy him enough. Slowly his lips made their way down the inside of my thigh, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses in their wake, until he reached my quivering centre, still covered by underwear.

He latched onto my clothed pussy, tongue pressing into the slit, putting pressure on my clit and licking around the edges of my panties. I tensed again, whole body shaking and anticipation and excitement flooding through my veins. But Baekhyun was suddenly in his teasing mood again and after a few moments of playing around with my clit with the tip of his tongue, he pulled away again. I didn’t even have time to whine though, as he immediately grabbed my underwear and swiftly pulled it off, leaving my pussy bared to him.

Instead of diving in, he chose to take the same path down the other thigh, but this time he was a lot less gentle, rushing down the expanse of the skin, leaving little bites and groaning lightly into the flesh, until he once again found himself buried in my pussy. The shock of his tongue licking a long stripe from my entrance up to my clit made me heave out a loud breath on a groan, body convulsing.

Now he wasted no time, suddenly seemingly as desperate to have me cumming as I was, his tongue wreaked havoc on me, sliding through my folds until it was lightly circling my clit before his lips latched onto it and sucked harshly. I was mindlessly laying there, twitching and shuddering, mouth open on a constant stream of quiet moans as he ate me out wildly.

He alternated between playing with my clit with his tongue and sucking on it with such force it left me breathless, before he slid lower and circled my entrance, moaning loudly into my cunt as his hands gripped my thighs tighter, leaving red indents of his nails. His head moved with the motion, bobbing excitedly as he licked me to my clit again before plunging his tongue in my hole without any warning.

It was such an onslaught of sensations I found myself barely hanging on, the fire in my lower belly consuming everything in its path and filling my veins with molten gold. I stopped caring about what kind of noises leave my mouth and gave myself over to the feeling of his tongue fucking into me in rough motions, nose bumping into my clit making me see stars. Blindly I reached over and grabbed his hair, tugging on it harshly and that had Baekhyun loudly groaning into my pussy, hands massaging my thighs as if he was holding on for dear life.

It was such a hot experience I could feel myself hurling closer to the edge, but I just needed an extra push. I used the grip on the hair as leverage and pulled Baekhyun away from my cunt. He looked at me, his fucked out expression bleeding into slight annoyance at getting interrupted. He looked a mess, the lower half of his face wet with my juices, lips shiny and red, tongue peeking out like he was a dog in heat. A blush was spread over his face, but spilled lower over his collarbones which were visible in the stretched out collar.

I pulled his head and pushed his mouth to my clit again. Without thinking, he immediately latched on and started sucking on it in between flicking it with his tongue, circling it and playing with it before giving it some rougher treatment. I moaned loudly, barely holding onto any thought, hand still holding him in place. When he wanted to move lower, his hair got pulled again and a debauched groan left his lips before he smirked at me.

“Suddenly turned all demanding, huh?” he said and teasingly licked through my folds as far as he could reach, “What is it baby, am I not doing enough?” I attempted to look at him, but I was already half gone, just desperately needing to come as soon as possible.

“Your fingers too, please,” I gasped out and with a single grin the man obliged immediately. Before I could process his lips on my cunt again, two fingers were plunged as deep as they could go into my heat. I nearly screamed out, but managed to turn it into a drawn out moan, legs falling open as far as I could push them. Baekhyun groaned in answer and then started harshly fucking me with them, curling them slightly to hit the sweet spot. Which he did, again and again and again. With a couple of flicks he had me losing my mind in the damn backseat of his car, on the cusp of cumming just from seeing his eyes drink up my own lust.

The car was suddenly filled with the sound of his muffled moaning, wet squelching of his fingers pumping furiously into my cunt and my own moans and sighs. I arched again, pushing my pussy into his face, into his fingers, so close to falling over that edge. I could barely think, barely hear, barely see, walls of my cunt spasming around him and milking his fingers of all their worth.

Baekhyun moaned again, hips moving on their own against one of my legs. I could feel his hard cock straining through the jeans and I loved knowing this was driving him just as wild, but I couldn’t hold that thought for long because suddenly he paired a couple of harsh pumps of his fingers with a hard flick and a long drawn-out sucking on my clit and I was launched into my climax, crashing into it so hard my hands flexed and had him groaning in pain and pleasure, hips stuttering against me.

The added vibration of his pleasured sounds carried me through it hard and I cried out, hips jerking against his face, the orgasm washing through my body in one huge tidal wave, white spots dancing behind my lids as I pressed them shut. The pleasure wrecked through me with a few quieter moans, leaving my thighs trembling. Then my whole body slumped down, the muscles relaxing and turning me into a rag doll.

I could hear Baekhyun breathing loudly, licking lightly at my spent pussy until I used my hand to pull him away again. He smirked at me, pulling my hand away from his white and black hair and sat back on his heels. His hands worked fast on his belt and zipper and I watched him utterly fascinated as he pulled his cock out, his hand frantically moving up and down the length as he chased his own pleasure.

I loved the sight, his cock was just as pretty as Baekhyun himself was, thick and curved with a tip flushed red, wet from pre-cum. I felt the fire burn low in my belly again, excitement making itself known through the tingling feeling spreading through my cunt. I moved faster than I was able to comprehend, suddenly kneeling in front of him with Baekhyun pushed against the door. I looked at him once with a mischievous expression and that was all the warning he got before I pulled his hand away and put his cock halfway down my throat.

He groaned loudly, hands immediately flying to my hair, tugging on it just as harshly as payback, and I moaned just as loudly in return, the sensation making him choke on a whimper. I was too eager, pushing myself to take him further into my mouth and in the process choking on his length, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel him in my throat. Baekhyun released a few raggedy moans, hands flexing in my hair and hips stuttering slightly, before he seemed to regain back some composure and decided to take control again.

His hand grabbed onto my hair a little harsher, getting a more solid grip before he stopped me from aimlessly choking on him. I looked up, completely ruined by lust and needing him to cum just as hard as I did. He smirked at me, pleased at my obedience.

“Gonna fuck your mouth, yeah princess?” he whispered roughly, hands once again getting a good grip, but his eyes waited for my confirmation. I blinked at him and tried to nod, which was pretty hard given my position but he seemed to understand.

His hips jumped a little forward as he was preparing himself to move and I cherished the feeling of his cock sliding deeper into my mouth, touching the edge of my throat. I breathed loudly through my nose, getting used to the feeling before Baekhyun started thrusting.

When he did, he started slow, with measured shallow thrusts that had barely half of his cock sliding into my mouth, but once I moaned and pushed against his hands holding me still, he got the memo and started earnestly fucking into mouth, hips languidly moving in elegant swerves and each thrust punching a high moan out of him. He tried to keep his eyes on me, but soon was too overwhelmed by the sensation and threw his head back as his hips kept relentlessly jerking forward, until I was choking on him on every thrust.

I concentrated on my breathing, but the throbbing trembling between my legs was making me delirious, moaning around the intrusion in my mouth and welcoming it back with every plunge, driving Baekhyun absolutely insane.

The car moved with the motion of his hips, swinging wildly from left to right, and if anybody passed by us, they would definitely know what was currently taking place inside. I could hear a quiet creaking of metal, lost behind the cacophony of Baekhyun’s long high pitched moans. His thrusts had gotten slower but harder, pushing into me until my face was smushed into his lower abdomen, the cock pulsing in my throat. I tried to swallow around it and a pitiful groan was punched out of Baekhyun’s mouth. I could feel he wouldn’t last much longer, his fingers digging into my hair tightly, hips losing rhythm and chasing after an orgasm, moans getting higher and higher.

I grabbed onto his thighs and my nails digging into the fabric of the jeans were no doubt felt through to his skin. His hands started guiding my head along his thrusts, pushing me into him on ever slide in. Drool dribbled out of my mouth, all over my chin and onto him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

With a few deep thrusts I could hear his stuttering breaths, the tightening of his balls before he stilled, cock pushed as deep as it could go pumping hot salty liquid down my throat. Baekhyun let out one last long moan, cumming in few hot squirts as his hips trembled and jerked lightly. I struggled to swallow around his length, stimulating the already sensitive head, punching out some whimpers out of him as his cum slipped out my lips and dribbled down my chin. My own cunt spasmed and throbbed with arousal, and I could feel the wetness sliding down my thighs, making me groan slightly.

He finally pulled out and his head lolled back to look at me. I barely had the presence of mind to look at him, eyes teary and face a mess of drool and cum. Something passed over his eyes and then he was suddenly pushing me down onto the seat, descending over me and kissing me harshly. I gasped and he immediately stuck his tongue into my mouth, no doubt tasting his release, but that didn’t seem to bother him, especially since he kissed me like a starved man.

I was so ready to cum again, too turned on from having him fuck my mouth to even pretend I didn’t need him again and he seemed to understand. With one hand he pulled up my shirt, lips migrating down my neck to mouth at my tits, while the other pressed between our bodies and without much preamble he plunged two fingers inside my hole again.

I whimpered, back arching and pushing my tits into his mouth, while my hips gyrated against his fingers attempting to ride them to completion. The madness at that point truly hit the boiling point as I didn’t need much at all and after a few rough well aimed thrusts combined with slight scraping of his teeth over my nipple I was cumming once again, this time my whole body spasmed and the pleasure was enough to tear a desperate scream out of my throat as I clamped down on his fingers, the ecstasy tearing through me with even more force than the first time. Baekhyun groaned a few times too, attempting to let me ride out the climax with some gentler strokes, before we both slumped down, the pleasant boneless feeling after a good orgasm getting us both.

Sound of harsh breathing was the only sound in the car as we both tried to get it back under control, our bodies cooling down. I was suddenly aware just how much cold wet release was all over my cunt and thighs, as well as a slight tick in my jaw was making itself known. Baekhyun pushed himself back on his knees and tucked himself back into his pants, tee haphazardly hanging off of him.

He gave me a winning smile with a touch of that smugness from before and then launched into motion. I rolled my eyes at him fondly, but let him do the aftercare, as I was still too drained to even move. Just as he was leaning over to the front seat trying to grab the packet of handkerchiefs to wipe me down, his phone suddenly started blaring through the silence of the car, scaring the both of us.

Baekhyun grabbed it and looked at it, then looked at me and said cheekily: “It seems that the signal is working again.” I just stuck my tongue out at him, to which he in turn started gesturing lewdly with his until I kicked him with a barely held back laugh.

The phone was still blaring, so he clicked the accept button and suddenly Jongin’s worried rambling was filling the silence of the car.

“Jesus christ, hyung!” he exclaimed, “We were so fucking scared! You were supposed to be here hours ago and none of us could reach either of you and we had no idea where you were!”

“Sorry, bear,” Baekhyun replied, though he didn’t sound nor looked very sorry, grinning at me while leisurely wiping my centre. I flushed with embarrassment, suddenly feeling shy now that Jongin was on the call. “My phone’s broken and Y/N’s died a while ago. We seem to be quite lost.”

“Are you anywhere close? I might be able to come and get you,” came Kai’s sweet reply, his voice full of relief now that we established we were alive and well. “I’m not sure, I think so,” Baekhyun told him and looked out the window. It was pointless, it was already dark outside and barely anything could be seen beyond the few dingy streetlights.

“My GPS kept fucking up, so we stopped by the side of the road for a little bit to see if it jumps back on, but I think we’re in the vicinity,” the man carried on explaining and I started searching for my discarded panties. When I bent over to fish them from underneath the driver’s seat, a hand made its way to my ass and caressed it gently. I flushed and ducked further to avoid looking at the smug bastard.

There was silence on the line, stretching until I started nervously twitching and turned back to sit next to Baekhyun. He watched me with a teasing glint to his eye and then winked.

“Uh-huh,” drawled out Jongin finally as an answer. I could hear in his voice he was suspicious and really, who could blame him. We disappeared, didn’t pick up phone calls and then Baekhyun tells him totally laid-back “oh yeah, phone’s broken and we’re somewhere on the side of the road” as if he was talking about what he was doing yesterday. I blushed again and slapped his shoulder lightly, earning a quiet amused chuckle.

“Okay hyung, stay there and send me your location while your phone works,” Jongin said, deadpan and clearly done with his shit, “and for fuck’s sake, be fully clothed when I get there.”

Baekhyun started loudly cackling while I slapped his shoulder some more in embarrassment. He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me flush to his chest, giggling at me playfully.

“Got it! Thank you, Jonginnie~”

The man sighed and grumbled something about Baekhyun being a menace and then hung up. I immediately groaned and pushed my face into the white-haired man’s shoulder.

“They’ll never shut up about this,” I mumbled and melted into the feeling of Baekhyun’s fingers gently carding through my hair. He chuckled lightly, reverting back to his happy persona.

“Just be really shameless, it will be less fun for them to tease you,” he laughed, “Walk in like ‘yeah I sucked his dick, what of it?’” He made some crude gestures with his free hand and then laughed when I slapped it again.

“Let’s get back to the front seats before Kai gets here, or he’ll be traumatised,” I told him and pulled myself back through the gap. When I turned back, Baekhyun was giving me a hungry stare again and I shuddered, my body valiantly trying to get aroused again.

“You forgot something,” he whispered and suddenly my black panties were hanging in the space between our faces, tangled around his beautiful fingers. I flushed, realising I must have flashed him when I clambered back to the passenger seat, but I could already feel the beginnings of a fresh wet heat between my legs.

I gave Baekhyun a look, which he seemed to understand judging by the annoyingly hot self-assured smirk making its way back onto his face.

“How long do you think we have before Kai gets here?”

I guess we were going to find out.

hope you enjoyed yourself <3

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