#Forbidden Secret Desire

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire 5

Summary: You find yourself waking up in his cabin, and honestly it’s peaceful, until a gut wrenching feeling starts making its way into your stomach that something is wrong.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Forced touch, oblivious reader, language, secluded cabin. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @dickmaster3000 @cellyx33

Word Count: 3582 (All other chapters here) Chapter 6

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire...

You wake up. Not where you’d fallen asleep mind you. But in a completely different bed, in a completely different room. To be fair though, you don’t remember falling asleep in a bed in the first place.

You hear the sound of plates and other dishes clinking from outside of the room, and you uncover your face from the blanket you’ve been tucked in, which was covering up to your nose. As soon as you breathe in the air, the scent of pine wood, cigar, and cologne immediately fills your nostrils. That’s when you remember where you were. You agreed to let Logan take you to his cabin in the middle of the woods. The drive was lengthy though. You had been awake for at least two hours in the truck before you had finally fallen asleep. You don’t remember getting up and walking to bed though. Or changing out of your day clothes. But you were sure you were just tired, considering the long ride.

Moving to lie on your back, you stare up at the ceiling. Bannisters of hard wood cross over the vaulted ceiling, you follow them with your eyes to the left until you’re staring at a window that was framed in more hardwood, the curtains closed, preventing you from looking outside.

After a few more moments, and the occasional sound of of movement close to the room, you finally decide to sit up, stretching your arms above your head, as you’re sat up you see a door, it was cracked open with the light on, you could tell it was a small bathroom, then you toss some blankets off of your body before beginning to step out of the bed. The bed was high up. If you were standing next to it, the top of the mattress would be about even with your hips. You step down with one foot first, the tips of your toes touching the ground before you slide off until both feet are flat on the hardwood floor. A bedside lamp is on, making it easy to see as it emits a soft yellow light.

You walk up to a tall mirror that seemed to be part of a cabinet, it was locked and closed. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was a dishevelled mess and your eyes were almost half closed, trying desperately to make you fall back asleep, and a red line streaks the side of your right cheek, you were probably lying on some fabric for too long. Your eyes trail down to your clothes, you were wearing a grey, white, and black flannel. It was thick, and you knew it wasn’t yours. One, because you didn’t own any flannels. And two, because, well, you just knew it wasn’t yours. It was also way too big on you. You assume it’s Logan’s. It goes about halfway down your thighs, and the first top two buttons were undone, showing your black lace bra. You lift the shirt slightly, showing your matching panties. Looking around the room for a moment, none of your clothes are in sight. So you decide you should probably go and talk to Logan now.

You open the door, the hinges surprise you when they don’t creak, you naturally assume the cabin was hold since it was Logan’s. He probably just takes good care of it. You tell yourself as you close the door silently behind you. Opposite of the bedroom door was another wooden door painted a dark brown with a brushed golden doorknob. It was open just a little, and you could see a bathroom. Turning your head to the right, was a few feet left of a hallway before there was a double door leading outside and a small area filled in by another larger cabinet that almost reached the ceiling. You could see through the little windows that there were jackets hung up in it. You assumed the door would lead to the backyard, but you still couldn’t see outside. The small window in the door was foggy, and it had a floral design to hide the inside from the outside, and the outside from the inside. Then you turn your head to the left, a hallway about as long or longer than the one on the right, but it led to two different open rooms, and it was aligned with the front door, its window also was covered. You take a few steps forward, until you’re at the end of the hall. You look to your right, a three seater brown cotton couch was facing a fireplace with a large TV mounted over it, and a recliner that matched the couch was angled just slightly as it sat near the couch in order to also face the TV. In between the couch and TV was a large oval rug, red and white, but it looked soft with a wooden coffee table sitting above it, last there was a window, on the right of the front door. You take a few steps forward, and on your left is Logan. His back turned towards you as he does whatever he’s doing at the counter. It was a nice kitchen. The cupboards were all wooded, and the counter was marble. In the centre was an island, two stools standing on the outside, and the wall opposite the island was another large window, on the left of the front door of course, with another door leading into a smaller room that you couldn’t see inside of from your angle.

“Look who’s awake.” You draw your attention away from your thoughts and look back over to Logan. “How long you been up?” He turns back around to look back at whatever he was doing.

“No long… What time is it?” You ask him, making your way to one of the windows and pushing the curtain aside.

“It’s like ten at night.” He tells you as you continue to stare out the window. Snow fell to the ground outside and you stare at it as it piles at least four inches above the dirt. Why is it snowing? You ask yourself, looking up at the sky to see a full moon with dancing little stars surrounding it.

“Here.” He brings you out of your thoughts again and you turn your head to see him holding out a sandwich on a plate. Only then do you realise you’re famished.

“Thank you, Logan.” You take the plate, picking up one of the triangle shaped slices of bread before biting the corner and backing away from the window finally.

“We’re out in the mountains. We just barely avoided the heavier snow.” He explains, knowing you were confused about the snow.

“It’s really quiet out here.” You mumble. And he doesn’t say anything for a moment. Not a single sound occurs in the house as neither of you speak.

“Just how I like it.” You take another small bite of your sandwich, covering your mouth before speaking.

“Where are the clothes I was wearing earlier?”

“You fell asleep in the truck so I carried you inside. It was snowing though, kind of heavy and it stuck to your clothes, got them wet.” He tells you, then nods towards the last closed door. “They’re drying in there.”

“How long have I been asleep for?”

“Like an hour before we got her, then we’ve been here for about five hours so… you’ve been out for six hours. Figured you wake up soon so…” He looks towards your sandwich, implying he made it knowing you’d wake up soon. “Do you need anything else?”

“Do you have anything to drink?” You cover your mouth as you speak again with food in your mouth.

“Yea…” He walks towards the fridge and opens it, you follow behind him and look in the fridge with him. “Apple juice, milk, lemonade, then of course water.” He looks at you, his eyes soft as he tilts his head down to look into your eyes. “I also have chocolate syrup if you’d like chocolate milk.” He adds on.

“Mhm…” You hum and nod your head. Then look around a little. “Where are the cups though?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He tells you, taking out the milk and placing it on the counter before going back and grabbing chocolate syrup too. “How chocolatey do you want it?” He asks, reaching over you and squishing you into the counter slightly as he pulls out a glass.

“Like uh… half?” He nods, then mixes some of the syrup into the glass after pouring in the milk.

“There you go, pup.” He slides the glass carefully closer to you and puts the milk and syrup back into the fridge. You whisper a silent thank you before taking the glass and sipping from it. Why does he seem so… off?

“How are you? Did you get any sleep?” You ask him.

“No, I was waiting for you to wake up.” He tells you, and you know he stayed up late just to feed you. How sweet.

“Aren’t you tired?” He just nods. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright darlin’ really,” he moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around the back of your shoulders to pull you into a side hug. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up hungry.” He squeezes you slightly in the side hug before rubbing his hand up and down your arm as you take another bite of your food.

“I appreciate it… Thank you, Logan.” You look up at him, fuck he’s close, and he smiles down at you.

“Of course.” He tells you, then as you turn your head, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“So uh… is there a separate room?” You ask him after his arm lets go of you so he could walk to the other side of the island.

“No. Just one room, then the living room. Why?”

“Well I was wondering who was sleeping where but-“

“Figured it would be alright if we both sleep in the bed.” He tells you. “If you’re okay with it, of course.”

You think about it. Like you really think about it as you finish your last bite of food and sip more of your chocolate milk. “I mean…”

“The bed is big.” He tries to pry on. “I’d sleep on the couch but I’ll fall off, and I don’t wanna see you sleeping on the couch.” He explains, and the reasons were pretty valid.

You nod. “Okay yea… I don’t mind sleeping with you- er- in the bed with you. If that’s what you prefer.”

“Not about what I prefer.” He tells you.

You shrug. “I’ll take the bed with you, it’ll be more comfortable probably anyways.” You finish your chocolate milk, and he watches as you set the glass into the sink after washing it out.

“Just leave it there, I’ll wash it in the morning.” He tells you as soon as you hand touches the faucet handle.

“I can-“

“I’ll wash it in the morning, pup.” He repeated, his voice sounded almost angry, but you knew he was just tired. So you set the glass in the sink, not washing it as he asked, then back away. “Alright. Need anything else?”

“No…” you say softly.

“Okay. Then let’s get some sleep.” He backs away from the island a few steps, and you walk in front of him, leading the way to the bedroom as he turns out every light behind you. Now you could see through the bathroom door that there was a little light plugged into the wall, probably so anyone could find it in the dark.

You turn right and open the door to the bedroom. He follows behind you, closing the door and locking it. Probably a habit he’s picked up from the mansion's doors. You figure. Then make your way back to the tall bed, crawling up onto it.

As soon as you’re sitting with the blanket over your lap, you look back over at him as he goes into the small bathroom you noticed earlier, closing the door behind him, so you lie down with the blankets just under your breasts.

“Are you hot?” He asks you, just exiting the bathroom. Noticing you weren’t as shrouded in the blankets as before you had woken up not long ago.

“No… a little cold actually…” You tell him as he walks to the other side of the bed, your voice softening as you look up at him, his shirt off and he is now only wearing pyjama pants.

“Well cover up a little more than, angel.” His voice is soft also as he gets onto the bed, exerting less effort than you needed to as he sits next to you, gently pulling the blankets up until they were over your shoulders as you were lying on your side now to face him. “Better?”

You nod, and you watch as he gets under the blankets as well. There’s a decent distance between the both of you on the large bed, you wish you could get closer to him. Just to absorb his warmth.

“Goodnight, pup.” He says, his voice still soft as he gets comfortable under the sheets.

“Goodnight, Logan…” Your tone matches his, and he pulls the cord of a lamp on his bedside that was sitting on his nightstand. Casting the room in darkness.

For a few moments, everything was quiet except for the soft rustle of blankets as Logan moved around until he was comfortable. Then there was nothing as your eyes finally drifted back to sleep…

When you wake up, the bed feels smaller than it did before. Your eyes open and there’s little slivers of light touching the walls as the sun shone through the curtains. You try to move a little, feeling warmer than you expected to feel waking up, but something heavy keeps you in place. You look down, the blankets that were up to your chin were now just below your waist, and laying on your waist was an arm. Logan's arm was draped across your waist, with his hand laying on your chest, just between your breasts. He was really close to you, his entire front pressed to your back as he continued to sleep. He must’ve moved closer to you in his sleep.

Suddenly, you hear a quiet groan come from behind you, followed by him managing to move closer, as if he wasn’t already pressed against you. Then you hear his gruffy morning voice, and to be honest, it was music to your ears. “Good morning…” His hand leaves your chest as he makes a little space between your bodies, immediately making you feel cold as his hand moves to the bare skin on your waist instead, your shirt ridden up from your sleep.

“Good morning…” Your voice comes out softer than you had expected, a quiet groan emitting from Logan's throat behind you, and you move slightly, attempting to turn over and face him, but he holds you a little tighter. Hesitantly, your hand moves down to his, still resting on your waist. You gently rest your palm on the back of his hand, twirling one of the golden rings that you’ve seen on his middle finger. His hand gently grabs your waist tighter and his hand slips a little further down, now resting on your stomach with your hand still resting on his as he pulls you closer to him, and you feel it as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

The bed gets lighter and feels less heavy as his weight finally shifts, moving away from you as he leaves the bed, and you sit up slowly, arching your back to stretch as he moves to a dresser.

“Come here, pup.” He tells you, taking out a large grey shirt. Again, you begin to move off the bed, a struggle as your toes hit the ground first before you can slide off. No one needs a bed this damned tall. You tell yourself as you walk up to him. Still dressed in his flannel, your black matching set underneath. “Here.” He says, swinging the grey shirt over his shoulder before he faces you, and his hands move to the buttons on the flannel you were wearing, but you quickly move to try and undo it yourself. “I’ve got it.” He tells you, gently, but firmly, grabbing your wrists and moving your fingers away from the buttons. “Let me…” His hands move back to the shirt, undoing the buttons then taking a step forward as he takes the flannel off of you, then throws it into a little bin not far away. He then takes the grey shirt off of his shoulder, looking you down for a moment before he puts the shirt over your head, fixing it around your arms. “There’s a brush in the bathroom across from this room, can you get it for me please.” He asks, turning back around to grab his own clothes.

Your feet softly touch the ground, and you make no sound as you move through the quiet cabin. In the restroom, there’s a hairbrush hanging from a little hook on the wall, which you grab before heading right back into the bedroom to see Logan dressed in a different flannel, no longer shirtless, and he was also now wearing a pair of jeans.

“Here.” You hand him the brush, which he takes from you.

“Go ahead and sit over there.” He nods towards a little bench with a leather cushion that was in front of the bed. You hadn’t noticed it before since it was hidden by the tower of a bed. You obey though, making your way to sit on the bench, crossing your legs as you stare at the wall.

Then you feel his hands gently on you, turning you and moving you until you were on the edge of the bench, and then you feel it as he begins brushing your hair. Why the fuck was he taking care of you like this? You ask yourself as he carefully brushes through your hair, making caution to not accidentally pull it.

As soon as he’s done, his voice comes from behind you again. “Are you hungry?” You nod slightly, standing up as he begins to leave the room, and you follow closely behind him. “Go ahead and get comfortable on the couch.” He tells you, and it feels like a demand.

“Logan I can-” You stop talking as he turns towards you, a stern look on his face as his eyes stare into yours, silencing you. You see his chest move as he takes a deep breath. Something felt off. With as much as you appreciated his care, it didn’t feel normal for you. You’re so used to just taking care of yourself, no matter the situation.

“Go sit down.” This time there was no comfort in his voice. It was a demand that you follow. Crossing your arms as you turn around and head towards the couch, sitting on your knee before crossing your legs. You hear the sink turn on, and you assume he’s cleaning your glass from last night. “What’re you hungry for?” He asks, and you think of the simplest thing that comes to your mind first. Toast.

“Toast would-”

“We have eggs, bacon, anything you like.” He interrupts you. You stare at him in the reflection of the TV. He's standing with his hand on the fridge handle, but his body is turned towards you. He wanted you to choose something he could actually prepare.

“I uh… surprise me I guess…” You tell him awkwardly, and his reflection moves again, taking contents out of the fridge that you weren’t able to see on the TV.

A few minutes pass. No conversation, but the cabin smelt amazing. You never took Logan as the type to be able to cook, but here you were, being served by him. Even if you really preferred making your own food. You were an adult after all. You hear clicks as he turns the dials off on the stove, and you hear a cupboard close, followed by the sound of two plates being set on the counter. Bringing you back to reality.

His reflection gets close on the TV, until he’s standing right next to you. He hands you a plate, a serving of steak, egg, and potato on the plate. Something he definitely didn’t have to make for you, but it looked amazing with cheese sprinkled on top. You thank him as you take the plate, and he sits right next to you on the couch with his own food.

One of his arms wrap around your shoulders in another side hug, his lips pressing to the top of your head, and you smile slightly, but the smile immediately falters as you then feel his lips press to your cheek, just at the corner of your lips, making you flinch, and you feel yourself practically shrink into the couch. His beard rubs against your cheek as his lips do touch you. It all felt so wrong, as you gently took his arm off of you again, your appetite suddenly smaller. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” He tells you, his voice making your stomach feel funny. “I’ll take care of you. All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful…”

[cottoncandyhole]

I wanted to tell you all of my secrets.. but you became one of them instead.

[jl-jk]

Chapter 1

The ride to the club always felt endless, each minute dragging like an eternity. My eyes darted to the clock: 10:57. Three minutes to make it to the club. I rushed, barely making it just in time, feeling an odd relief despite my nonexistent heart. Not once in a year had I been late or missed a session.

Night Owl, a club unlike any other, catered exclusively to women with a certain...aliveness. It was a place where the darkest fantasies came to life and where forbidden desires were fulfilled.

That's where I met him. He was breathtaking, standing 5'10 with honey-kisses skin and jet black hair. His eyes, dark as boba pearls, were anything but innocent. I couldn't know his name, so I called him Mr. Red, but did I knew every inch of his beautifully sculpted body. He was the epitome of temptation, a delicious sight to behold.

My private room, nicknamed the Fortess, was finally ready. Twice a week, like clockwork, our sessions ran from 11:00 to 1:00am. We had to adhere strictly to this window or risk a month-long ban from one to one sessions with our suitors. Some of the ladies got a bit too excited when left alone for too long, so caution was necessary.

Today, I planned just to watch. Little did I know, Mr. Red had other ideas in store.

Our sessions usually revolved around him stroking his lust, imagining what I looked like from the other side of the glass. We were separated by a two-way mirror, allowing me an unobstructed view of his glorious form, while he had no clue about mine.

This thrilled me. He knew what I was and wasn't afraid, a rare trait in a human that could easily get them killed in my world. The time limits existed partly for this reason. Our excitement made us stronger, and there was always a risk of harming our nameless suitors.

Entering the black velvet-lined room, my non-existent heart raced in anticipation of seeing him. Today, I was ravenous, my desire consuming me. I needed him to feed this hunger, but I was unsure how I wanted to achieve that tonight.

A flash of light drew my attention to the door in his room. There he was. My body sensed his presence before my eyes confirmed it, and my oasis throbbed in response.

He walked slowly to his throne, wearing nothing but light grey sweatpants. The tattoos on his right arm glistened like paintings and my excitement grew at the thought of what his hands were about to do.

Sitting on the golden throne draped in red velvet throws, he was a vision. I pressed the button on the left armrest of my chair, signaling I was ready to start.

His eyes flicked up to the red light, a smile crossing those beautiful lips. He was ready to play.

The crease of his smirk revealed a dimple, making my pussy throb again. My body's response still baffled me. Since becoming a vampire, I hadn't fully understood the mechanics of my new biology. I could eat human food or drink blood, either way, sustaining me, and keeping my organs functioning like normal. My heart no longer beat, yet I still felt the blood coursing through my body.

Regaining focus, I returned my attention to tonight's entertainment.

He must have sensed my distraction because when I looked back at the glass, he was standing right in front of me. Leaning forward on his left arm, his other hand trailed gently down the curves of his chiseled chest.

He loved this. He loved knowing he controlled my body's reactions. On days like today, when I let him take charge, he knew exactly how to make me wet. With my new found strength and body, I had developed a kink for control, something I never had as a human. But now, a single whisper of a command from him, and I was pool of wetness.

But let's be real—I fucking loved it. Every day, I fantasized about him commanding me to cum. Imagining him finger fucking me as his lust tapped the back of my throat, sent a shiver up my spine.

Pressing the second button on my armrest opened the two-way speaker between us. He wouldn't start until I said it, one of the few things he was strict about. So, I obeyed his silent command.

"Please," I whimpered.

"Good girl," he replied, that fucking smirk appearing again.

He stretched, reaching down as if the distance was endless, pulled out his lust and began stroking it.

He knew I loved watching him, but hearing him was an even greater treat. The sound of his husky breath building as he thought about fucking me set my mind ablaze.

"Keep the speaker on," he commanded.

I complied, pressing the button twice to keep the line open. He couldn't see me, but his gaze through the glass felt as though he could see me clearly.

"How was your day?" He asked, a ritual he never skipped, as if he truly cared about how my day had gone.

"Better now," I replied sensually.

He smiled, and for some reason, it made me smile too.

"How would you like today to go?"

I knew what he meant. Though I couldn't touch him, he let me control his climax, just as he controlled mine. How fast he stroked, how tight his grip was, whether he perched on the edge of his climax or came on command—it was my game to play.

"Hmm, today I think I'd like a slow burn."

"Ahh, so you missed me, is that it?" His cheekiness always made me smile. He was so confident and domineering behind that glass, and I could tell it's who he truly was beyond our twice a weeks sessions.

"I just love what I see when we're together. Why rush it?" I said, savoring every moment.

"It's not fair, though. You can see me, but I can't see you," he replied, his stroke picking up speed as he seemingly locked eyes with me through the glass.

"That's how this works, always has," I started, "no names, no contact, no love. A simple contract," I said with a slight pout.

"Is that what you really want, though?" he asked, smiling knowingly. "Seeing you doesn't break the contract."

I knew what he was hinting at. The club had recently introduced a feature that allowed for the two-way glass to be turned off for a more intimate session. Immortality or not, I wasn't ready for him to see my face.

"For now, I think that's best," I whispered back.

He smirked again, continuing to stroke his lust. "You know, you've been my attendant for almost a year now. I have to wonder, why do you keep coming back?"

I often asked myself the same question. he wasn't the only beautiful man here, but something about him drew me in from the moment I saw him. Like a drug, I could never get enough.

"I don't know, maybe it's because I'm comfortable with you."

"Comfortable is the last thing I want you to be with me," he growled.

He pressed his lust lightly against the glass, leaving a moist imprint. My body ignited as I watched him grip his length tighter and tighter. He looked at me as if he could see me and it drove me wild.

"If I could have you, would you give yourself to me?" He asked.

My mind went blank, but my non-existent heart raced with anticipation.

"Why ask that? You know it's not possible," I said.

"But we can pretend, right?" He smirked.

"How so?" I challenged.

"What are you wearing?"

"A black dress and heels"

"Fuck I wish I could see you! Do you have on panties? A thong? Or well, nothing at all?" he smiled.

'I don't know why this is making me nervous,' I thought, my words getting shakier with each passing moment.

"N-Nothing at all", I reply.

"Good," he smiled pleased. "Lift your dress and position yourself so your pussy is in my direction", he commanded.

"Why?"

"Do as I ask," he growled.

I couldn't resist him. Even with an entire room between us, it felt like he was right in front of me.

"Take your finger and circle your clit," he whispered.

Following his instructions, I gently circled my clit, and waves of sensations coursed through my body. I tried to stay silent, but a moan escaped.

"Fuck, that's what you sound like tonight? This is going to be difficult, I see." The lust in his voice sent my mind into euphoria.

He started moving faster after hearing me moan, which made me moan even louder. Knowing that my reaction brought him pleasure, in such a sexy way, turned me on.

"Take another finger and enter your pussy, stroke it gently," he started. "And while you glide in and out look me in my eyes." His directions while direct were so fucking erotic.

"You can't see me", I whimpered.

"I don't need to. Between your moaning and your wetness, I have all I need to visualize how sexy you are right now," he said breathless as his climax started to build.

"I'm imagining your legs spread as you're on display for me," he began. "And a pool of your wetness is sitting right below your ass, just waiting for me to lick it up. I want to fuck you so bad, just the thought makes me want to cum".

Again, as I follow instructions, I can't hold back moaning.

"Nuna, you really aren't making this easy for me," he whined. "I'm sure you can see I'm about to explode over here," he peeks down and smiles.

His lust fills his hand as he's stroking imagining he's inside of me, when my next command comes.

"Next, I want you to stand in front of me and let your dress fall to the floor"

"Why?" I ask curious.

"Stop asking questions and just do what I ask", his voice commanded; more stern than usual. It was fucking intoxicating. He's usually bossy, but tonight he was in rare form.

As I stood up, his eyes seemed to follow my every movement. Him locking onto me with such intensity made my non-existent pulse race.

Removing the spaghetti straps one by one, my dress falls to the floor and he says, "Ok, now sit back on the chair how you were before. This time, rest your left leg on the arm of the chair"

"Ok", I reply getting into position.

"Lightly pinch your nipples," he instructed. "I know they're hard, just aching for my tongue to be wrapped around them." "Fuck!" he exclaimed, "I wish I could bite them right now."

The look on his face is one that mirrors mine when I've had satisfying, well, meal.

"Ahhhh" I sigh out. The light pressure makes my clit throb. I'm so ready to cum and it's taking all my strength to hold back.

"Aht, don't do that. It's not time to cum yet." I hate when he gets like this. He's turned my game into his and I fall for it every time.

I want to, I need to cum. He has to know this is driving me fucking insane. It feels like he's touching me, and I crave nothing more than for that to be a reality.

"Ok, now close your eyes, while pinching your nipples," he began, "then stroke your pussy how I told you to before."

Breathless and disoriented I comply.

"Ahhh, ahhh," my moans whimper, as the pressure is building up. I can't hold back anymore. I need him to command me to release what's been growing inside of me.

"Are you close?" He playfully asks.

"Mmm, hmm" I reply through static breaths.

"Look at me Nuna", he says barely above a whisper.

I open my eyes and look straight at him.

"Cum. Right now", he says seemingly looking straight into my eyes.

"Ahhhh," I exhale as my body convulses, painting my hand in my wetness, as I watch his climax paint the mirror in front of me.

Thank you for reading!

Remaining chapters on Wattpad

[smolwormadventures]

An excerpt from another adventure from the series of Foible Flatworm and Crispin Spillikins. As posted by Atticus.

〰️〰️〰️〰️

It had been getting warmer as the seasons began to change into spring. This allowed Foible to extract himself from his secret base and find time to reflect. He had traveled over land and water to get to his destination, his hearing zoned in on the grass that slipped underneath him, his mind blank for once.

He was not thinking of his next new invention to take over the world or one to be a distraction, no, he was thinking of the stone that he coiled up on. He looked down, his eye scanning over the word, and he took a deep breath.

“It’s been a while, father,” he whispered, allowing his words to be carried away with the residual winter wind.

… Foible paid his respects and slithered away after what felt like hours to him but only minutes to watchful eyes. Foible slowly slid up to a nearby monument and leaned against the pillar as he collected himself. He briefly monologued to himself, like most do when the setting and situation calls for it, and he inhaled the new spring air deeply.

It was because of his father he was doing what he was doing. He wanted to avenge him. Foible closed his eye and exhaled the breath he was holding only to snap his eye open at the sound of a familiar voice.

“My deepest condolences about your father, Foible” the voice said, soft and caring, right on the other side of the pillar at which Foible rested.

Foible gritted his teeth as he clenched his jaw. He didn’t immediately turn and throw a punch but composed himself the best he could.

“As you should, Spillikins, it was your people who killed him,” Foible admitted, and he felt like he left one of his greatest walls come crumbling down. It felt vulnerable, and he hated that. He hated Spillikins.

Crispin Spillikins only nodded and took a deep breath before he spoke,

“Then I cannot apologize enough and I cannot ease your pain,” he replied, his heart aching in ways he couldn’t convey properly into words.

There was nothing but the sound of nature between them for a moment, a silence that Crispin knew Foible needed, before Crispin inhaled loudly. He slid his tail around and grazed the tip of his to the tip of Foible’s and Crispin felt him tense immediately.

Neither one pulled away from the other, but there was an understanding silence between them before Foible slithered away. Crispin did not follow him, did not report to his superiors, but he stayed put until he knew Foible was long gone before slithering away himself.

〰️〰️〰️〰️

[panzerdrako]

Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Secret House of the Night of Dread Desire

Neil Gaiman

Shane Oakley

[rosesradio]

yk it's not lost on me that the shadowy tendrils in CE kinda give off hentai vibes

[848ellie]

Forbidden fruit 🍏

[darkromanceart]

"In the darkness of the night, they whispered secrets to each other, and their love grew stronger with each passing moment."

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire 3

Summary: You’re finally starting to fit in when you freak out in front of everyone. But twenty side eyes later and a lot of forgiveness from your friend Kurt, you discover a scary secret.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Panic attack, manipulation, hidden cameras, finally not as much awkwardness, social dissociation, being in the social eye. Logan is an official warning starting this chapter as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Word Count: 4542 (All other Chapters here) Chapter 4

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @dickmaster3000

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again. 

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire...

“Alright, everyone, find a partner.” You shouldn’t be surprised that Logan was your teacher for your third period class. You remembered Hank and Logan talking about it the other day in the lab, but it still shocked you for some reason, maybe it was something else that surprised you, like the fact that he doesn’t just let everyone do whatever so he could get it over with. You knew he would be the substitute for both your third and fifth period classes for the rest of this week, and only because Xavier was out on some mission. The thing that bothered you the most now, was that you couldn’t partner up with anyone, and you knew no one would want to partner up with you. So you just watched as everyone else excitedly ran towards their best friends.

“Wanna be my partner?” A hand lands on your shoulder, making you flinch a little. It was Kurt of course. “We have a new student today and my normal partner is their guide.” He explains.

“Uh, yea sure. Cool.” Cool? 

“Cool,” he smiles, his little fangs showing under his lips.

“Everyone have a partner?” Everyone nods, including you. “Good, find a place on the floor and sit in front of your partner.” You follow Kurt to an open spot, there were only about ten other kids in the class so it wasn’t too hard. “Once you’re sitting with your partner, find three things you both have in common. You have five minutes to talk amongst yourselves, time starts now.” You realise he’s reading every instruction from a pamphlet, that helped it make more sense. “Also apparently the three things you have in common cannot be common questions such as colours, animals, etcetera.” He finishes, placing the pamphlet down on the teachers desk. “Now your time starts now.” He picks up his phone, and starts the timer.

“So uh. What are some uncommon questions then?” You shrug, trying to think of a question with him. Why do they have to be uncommon Xavier? What the fuck? You wonder and listen to other students' conversations, but everyone is trying to figure out a question just like you and Kurt.

Your eyes turned back to him, and his index fingers were rubbing his temples, it was actually frustrating him. So now you understand the task. It’s almost impossible to come up with a question that no one commonly asks, so of course, thinking is stressing everyone out. It was anger management after all.

“If you were a unicorn, what colour would you want to be? I’d probably wanna be white.” You tell him, shrugging a little, hoping it would calm his frustration.

“Oh yea. I’d probably be white also, I get tired of being blue.” He chuckles a little.

“Okay if you were a dragon, would you breathe fire or something else?”

“I'd probably want to breathe ice.”

“I think it would be cool to be able to choose.” You tell him, sitting back up and crossing your arms in your lap.

“If you were forced to do one subject for the rest of your life, what would you choose?” He asks you, understanding the project now.

“Definitely science.”

“Same, it’s a more fun subject.”

“Especially compared to anger management.” You joke, making him chuckle quietly. “Okay, one more question.” You prop your elbows on your thighs as you look at him. The rule is no common questions, so Xavier wants us to ask uncommon questions, with common answers.

“If everything in the world could only be flavoured one thing, what flavour would you choose?”

“I would choose vanilla. It’s plain, I can't get tired of it.”

“I would probably choose green apples, but not too sour.”

“How about the scent?”

“Scent I would choose vanilla.” He tells you, one again laughing to himself.

“Same, and there’s our three questions.” You turn your head to look at the projector, there was about a minute left and Logan was going around and asking groups how everything was doing. In another direction, a kid who could harness fire had smoke coming from the back of his head as he thought of another question.

“Alright and how are you two doing?” Logan asks Kurt and then his eyes also move to you.

“Good, we just finished.”

“No common questions?” You both shake your heads. “Good, you’re the only pair to finish so far.” He mumbles, moving onto the next group.

“So what’re you doing after your last class?” Kurts asks you, leaning forward to ask the question, his eyes trained on you.

“I’m supposed to help Hank- Mr. McCoy with another project.”

“You do that everyday.” He leans back on his palms.

“Yea, I never have anything better to do. Unless something comes up then I cancel.”

“So he doesn’t ask you for help? You just kind of pop in?” You nod.

“Unless he asks me to. Then it can be important… it’s usually stupid.” He smiles slightly.

“So my friends and I are having a little sleepover in my room tonight.”

“Oh…” You move your hands together, once again your thumb begins to pick at your skin.

“Yea, it would be cool if you came by. We're gonna have pizza, some drinks, and we're gonna watch a movie.”

“What movie?” You ask, the timer reaching zero as Logan walks back to the desk to turn it off.

“Whatever we pick out of the hat. Last week it was Big Hero 6.” He shrugs.

“Uh, yea. I’ll try, what time?”

“Around 9PM is normally when the others show up.” You nod in understanding, then Logan speaks up.

“Okay so, it says here that you guys are all supposed to stand up and share your groups three questions.” He tells everyone, reading the pamphlet out loud. “But I don’t wanna hear it. So the rest of the ten minutes in class is to yourselves. Enjoy.” He tosses the papers back on the desk and the students immediately begin talking amongst themselves. Talking about anything they could come up with. The news, food, anything, while you and Kurt stood back up, he walked to his friend group expecting you to follow. But you only make your way back to your desk to sit on your phone for the remainder of class. Logans eyes settling on you, and you know you’re not supposed to be on your phone, but he doesn’t bother making a scene, instead, his eyes rest on you, occasionally moving to other students to see what they’re doing or moving to look at his email, but the majority of the ten minutes, all he could look at was you.

And then the bell finally rang, and everyone collected their items in their bags before leaving the classroom for lunch.

Normally for lunch you’d just sit in your room on your bed, finishing any work you had to finish and if you were hungry you’d either tough it out or you would’ve ordered something before your third class ended. Today, Kurt changed your plans.

“Hey, we ordered extra, we were hoping you would also sit with us today?” He asks, holding out a box of food that smelt amazing. So you nod, and follow behind him to the little area his friends were sitting. They all smiled up at you from their spots on the floor, and you joined silently. This dude just bribed you with food.

They all chat amongst themselves, and you simply poke at your food with your plastic fork, occasionally taking a small bite. You’ve never been the type of person who’s able to eat an entire meal in front of people you’ve never spoken to without feeling awkward.

They talked about class, and classwork, and talked a little about hanging out in Kurt's room tonight, but that was about it. Occasionally, there would be an inside joke that you didn’t understand, but you didn’t mind. You kept your eyes on your food, and that was it.

“So what about you?” Jean nudges you, making you look up to see everyone's eyes on you. What was the question? You ask yourself, panic rising in your chest.

“Yea, Y/N. Where would you be if you didn’t have to be here?” Alex, you’re a saviour.

“Uh, well…” You think about it for a moment, not sure where you’d wanna be. Definitely not with your family, you don’t have a home or caring family outside of the mansion. Hell you didn’t even have friends inside the mansion. “I don’t really know.”

“Oh come on. Paris? Mexico?” Scott- or Cyclops asks you.

“Oh, like where do I want to visit?”

“Or live.” Kurt cuts in, smiling at you.

“I would choose Russia.” You shrug, and they all stare at you.

“Imma be honest I was expecting the Maldives or some sort of beach.” Jean laughs a little. “But why Russia? There’s nothing there but snow and vodka.” You nod.

“It’s where I was born…”

“No way…” Alex scoffs. “You don’t look Russian. And you’ve only been here for what? Three years?”

“Almost.” You sigh a little. “About two years and eight months.”

“You literally never talk to anyone.” Jean says out loud, and you look up at her, your eyes daring her to continue. “How do you not have an accent?” Rude. Your eyes squint slightly.

“Okay, guys, next subject.” Kurt says, a little chuckle in the back of his throat. “Actually, what kind of pizzas are you guys wanting for tonight? I’m ordering this time.” He takes out his phone and opens a pizza ordering app.

“Can we get Hawaaian?”

“No, come on, meat lovers!”

“That's gross, why not just normal pepperoni?”

“Well I don’t like sauce.”

“I like alfredo.”

“Guys come on, just choose two. I’m getting two pizzas.”

“So get Hawaiian and meat lovers.”

“What about sauce?”

“Just get a sauce cup, or like five sauce cups? I love sauce.”

“Well I hate it.”

It was too much. Too much back and fourth, and you honestly couldn’t stand it. It was making your head whirr and your brain was pounding as they argue about something as simple as pizza. Then they start arguing about sodas and it’s just all this back and fourth. It was too much.

“Hey wait where are you going?” Alex is the first one to ask about your sudden leave as you get up from the ground and throw away your trash, but you don’t walk back towards them. “She’s not answering me.” He tells the rest of the group, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You just don’t think you would’ve been able to muster one more word from their lips.

“Hey! Y/N, wait!” You hear Kurt's voice call after you and footsteps behind you, and your face heats up as he gets closer, your arms crossing as you try to console yourself. Then his fucking hand touching your shoulder and he turns you around, one hand on each of your shoulders as he tries to keep you steady, but it only freaks you the fuck out.

“Do NOT touch me!” You shout. The entire eating area goes quiet as each pair of eyes lands on you. Shit.

“Hey, uh… Calm down a little…”

“Do not tell me what to do…” You threaten, but it comes out as more of a warning.

“Well uh… you’re probably freaking everyone out with your hands right now…” What?

In your frustration, you hadn’t even realised you had pushed him off of you, his hands were up in defence, but his shirt had a burn hole in it that wasn’t there before.

Looking down at your hands, there was a red and blue glow emitting from your fingers all the way through your veins. You could only imagine how your eyes looked as you stared down at your hands in embarrassment. Oh, right. You can’t control your powers when you’re stressed, frustrated, sad, mad, happy. You always have to be just… neutral.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” Another voice calls and Professor Lehnsherr approaches you with a soft smile. “Come with me so you can cool down.” He tells you, gently placing his hand on your back to lead you out of the eating area before anything escalates.

“Alright.” He sighs, and closes your bedroom door behind you. “Want to tell me what happened back there?” You shake your head. It would’ve sounded pathetic. “That’s okay. Oh honey, don’t sit down.” He holds a hand out to grab your arm but doesn’t, knowing damned well he would burn himself if he touched you. “You’ll burn the sheets.” He reminds you, and you take a few steps away from the bed, but bring your hands up to your face to rub your temples, attempting with all of your effort to control your breathing. Got it, so personal questions and constant back and forth conversations stress you out. You tell yourself. “So… I think you should spend the rest of the day to yourself and-”

“No. No, I have to go to class, remember I said I can’t skip anymore just because I can’t fix myself.” You tell him, reminding him of the first time you freaked out and made the promise.

“Y/N, it’s not about fixing yourself, it’s about controlling your emotions.”

“Well everyone else is able to! Why can’t I?”

“Because everyone in this school associates themselves with others.” You hate to say it, but he was right. Everyone else is used to public stress, because they constantly have it.

“Well I still cannot and will not skip the rest of the day.”

“Fine then. Skip just this fourth period, then go to fifth period, but if you feel like you’re not up for it, then send me a text and I’ll send your substitute a text also so he knows you’re not coming.” You don’t say anything. “Sounds good?”

“Yea. Yes. Uh huh, that- yes… that sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll let Hank know you’re not up for fourth period, then like I said.” He makes his way to the door and holds the handle. “Let me know if you need the entire rest of the day off. Okay?” You nod and give him an ‘mhm,’ before he finally leaves.

Okay what normally calms you down..? You wonder, looking around your room and heading towards your desk to search for the little paper you write those types of things on. There was painting your nails, colouring books, sitting in your dark closet because there’s no sounds in there, and then there was a nice shower or bath. Cold, shower or bath of course. You decide you should just do that.

You roll down the sleeves of the jacket that you’ve had on all day, and then unzip it and throw it off into your dirty laundry basket. The bell for lunch had just rung, so the sound of other students chatting in the halls made way into your room. How you wish the walls and doors were thicker. You wonder as you begin to slide off your leggings, also discarding them in your laundry basket before walking into your bathroom and turning on the faucet, letting the water run cold as you step into the tub with your hair up so you could just relax in the water.

As soon as you’re done, you wrap a towel around your body and step out, perfect timing as the fourth class ends and the bell rings throughout the school walls. Then there’s that annoying whirring sound again as you stand in front of your desk, going through the clothes you’d swore you would go through that morning.

After choosing a plain blue sweater and another pair of black leggings, along with your matching set of panties and a bra, you hear yet another clicking sound, the same you heard from last night. You don’t remember hearing it earlier, so you again assume it’s your neighbours, doing something in their room during the ten minute passing period. Annoying. But you wonder what they could possibly be doing with a camera that loud, and that often. It did only start yesterday, so you hoped it would bore them out eventually.

After what felt like a thousand more clicks, on top of getting fully dressed, you decide you’d be able to make it to class. Your nerves were cool, and you didn’t feel as frustrated as before.

So after about a minute with your palm lying on the door handle, you finally had the courage to open the door with about two minutes left to make it to your fifth period, meditation.

Walking back into the halls felt like you were a fox on a bunny farm. All eyes were on you, and as usual, everyone was whispering about you. The only difference between now and before was they didn’t even try to hide that they were talking about you. If you hadn’t been so used to this scene, you would’ve already freaked the fuck out. So instead, you easily and quickly make it to your first class, having enough of the staring eyes.

“Everyone brought their mat today like they were asked to on Friday?” Logan, also substituting for your fifth period.

Everyone takes their mats out of their bag, including you and everyone rolls it out on the floor in their assigned spot. Surprising considering there was a sub. Then again, it was Wolverine. You sit in your assigned spot as well, but a little further away from everyone. Not everyone had been there for the scene that had unfolded during lunch of course, some people were inside the cafeteria. But you knew that by now the word had spread inside and outside of the mansion.

“Today, we’re going to just relax.” His voice softens a little, becoming nearly soothing. “First I’m going to have you all do some stretches though, so will Jean please come to the front to lead the stretches?” He asks, watching as Jean stands with her mat and faces the entire class on the floor before beginning the stretches, the entire class of about thirty people this time copying her.

You watch as she moves to lie on her stomach, and you follow her movements slowly, placing your palms in front of you and pushing up to stretch, then you follow along all the rest of her simple stretches before she finishes and moves her mat back to her original spot.

“Okay, now here’s the video Xavier said to play.” A video on youtube comes onto the projector screen of an elderly woman sitting on a purple mat with her legs crossed, then she speaks into her camera, asking everyone to copy what she does, then the video goes silent for a moment before the sounds of waterfalls and chirping birds play, attempting to put the viewers mind at ease as everyone's eyes close, to apparently rid their eyes of distractions.

You’re ten minutes in. It’s actually peaceful. You tell yourself with your eyes closed, still sitting with your legs crossed on the floor and your hands on your knees.

“Here.” You hear a voice behind you, prompting you to open your eyes. “No, no. Close your eyes and face forward.” He tells you, and you do. He’s quiet enough so only you could hear him over the waterfall and birds. Then you feel his palm press gently on the middle of your back, causing you to straighten your posture as you involuntarily try to escape his touch. “I heard what happened. I didn’t expect you to show up to fifth.” He admits, letting his palm rest on your lower back, just above your ass, and you take a deep breath. “How’re you feeling now?”

“Fine.” You whisper back, matching his quiet tone so as not to interrupt anyones meditation.

“That’s good. I was worrying about you. I noticed you skipped the fourth period.” You hear him move next to you, and you open your eyes just enough so he doesn’t notice. Instead of kneeling, he was now crouching next to you on your right. His left hand moves to your left shoulder. “But I’m glad you’re alright. Just let me know if you ever need anything.” Emphasising “Anything,”  making it clear that he’d kick ass just for someone looking at you wrong.

You nod slightly, then in your mostly closed eyes, you see him move closer to you. Flinching as his left hand gently holds the side of your head, your lips parting just slightly as you feel his lips touch your temple. A gesture that was supposed to feel sweet, but everything in you was saying it was sinister. Of course, being you, you throw the red flag out of your head and settle on him just being a good friend. I mean he’s your professor. Surely it wouldn’t be more than that.

Right?

The meditation session ends and everyone rolls up their mats and are immediately glued back to their phones or talking to their friends obnoxiously. You also of course are guilty, turning on your phone to no notifications to reply to, as usual- Wait. I have a text? You open your phone to see the text with Kurt's name right next to it.

Kurt Wagner: I’m hoping you’re still coming tonight?

You: I don’t know… I’m sorry about what happened earlier.

Kurt Wagner: Hey it was an accident, and I’ve been meaning to throw that shirt away anyways.

You: Oh, well I hope it was just the shirt. I didn’t burn you right?

Kurt Wagner: Luckily no. You’re such a worry bug.

You: Sorry…

“Wait, where’s the pizza?” Alex is the first to notice as they all walk into the room, everyone eyes first landing on you sitting on Kurt's bed with your legs crossed.

“Well, turns out, Y/N doesn’t like pizza. So I got KFC, McDonalds, and Taco Bell.” Kurt explains, hopping off the bed and retrieving his TV remote. You didn’t even have a TV in your room. At least not anymore. “I know each of you likes at least one of these, so enjoy.” He tells them, turning back to see you snacking on a quesadilla.

“So what movie are we watching then?” Scott asks, grabbing a solid ten chicken pieces from the KFC bucket. “Have you guys pulled from the hat?”

“We have not.” He tells them, then disappears in his closet, reappearing a minute later with some fancy tophat that makes you smile a little. “Who wants to choose from the hat?”

“Make Y/N.”

“Yea, this is her first time, let her.”

“Just don’t let Scott choose, his hand is a magnet for Toy Story, and if I watch it again I’ll know the entire script by broken heart.”

“Okay, okay.” Kurt chuckles, holding the hat out in front of you and giving you an encouraging smile. “Lets let Y/N choose tonight then.” He says, and you angle your arm slightly to reach into the tophat and pull out the first piece of paper your fingers touch. “What did you get?”

They all stare at you as you open the little paper. “Finding Dory.” Your eyebrow quirks a little.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting for someone to choose that one.” Jean tells you and you roll the paper back up, handing it to Kurt and he puts it back in the hat then sets the hat on his desk.

“Alright, let's get this party started!”

Was the last thing anyone had said for over an hour, aside from Alex asking Jean if she was crying when baby Dory popped on the TV. So pretty much, the entire hang out was amazing so far. No complaints, no fighting, and best of all, you didn’t receive a single sidewards look.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, drawing your attention from the movie and you turn the brightness on your phone down as if you’re in a movie theatre to check the notification. A text from Professor Lehnsherr.

Metal Head: Have you received my email? I’ve been worried.

You: Sorry I’ve been busy. I’m fine now though. My computer is in my room so I haven’t seen it.

Metal Head: Well when you get the chance, please check the attachments I’ve sent you asap.

You: Alright.

“Everything okay?” Kurt asks, crawling close to you as you begin to stand up from the floor.

“Yea, just Mr. Lehnsherr asked me to check my email asap, which also means now.”

“You’re probably the only person who doesn’t just call him Magneto.” He adds on. “Can I come with you? I’ve never been in your room.”

“It’s nothing special, but sure.” You both stand up, and you head for the door with him behind you. Opening the door and heading straight to your room.

As soon as you get inside and close the door behind Kurt, you open the laptop that’s sitting on your bed and you punch in the password to check your emails.

“It’s actually really… woodsy in here.” Kurt tells you, looking around your room in astonishment. “It’s funny how every student's room has a different vibe, yours smells like pine.” He sits next to you on the bed, the side of his thigh touching yours.

“He just sent me a bunch of attachments, he’s been really into my work on nanotech so whenever he has a question he emails them to me.” You shrug, typing back a response to his question saying ‘does nanotech make a sound?’

As you type out the response and finish sending it. Kurt speaks again. “What is that whirring sound?” He asks, looking down at you and you look up at him after closing your screen. Your faces uncomfortably close.

“I actually have no idea. It’s been happening since last night, I just assumed whoever's my neighbour got something that makes that sound or maybe the AC is acting up.” You shrug and he stands up, his pointy ears twitching slightly as he picks up your build-a-bear.

“Nobody is in that room… The student who was sleeping there left a few months ago.” He tells you and you slowly get off the bed. Approaching him as he holds the bear. “Y/N… Where did you get this?” You gently take the bear in your hands.

“From the mall… There’s a build-a-bear shop there.”

“The day you went with Professor Howlett?”

“Yes.” You squint your eyes in confusion. “Was this always there…?” You mumble.

“I don’t know, was it?” Kurt asks, looking down at the little bear's right eye which seemed to have a spec of a glowing red spot on it.

Some panic gets to you, setting deep in your stomach, making you want to vomit. Who would put a camera in your bear? You ask yourself, and Kurt verbally asks the same question. “I don’t know… I’m going to bring it to Professor Howlett though… He’s the one that helped me stuff it.” Kurt only nods, and you wrap the bear in a shirt before putting it on the shelf in your closet and closing the door, leaving the camera to watch the dark…

[seductive-suffering]

Skin so soft.

Lips longing, wanting.

So desperate for just one taste.

I could stare into a million sunsets testing their beauty.

But what I would give for you to stare into me.

[okiedreamsreviews]

An Off-Limits Merger by Naima Simone ~ Book Review

AN OFF-LIMITS MERGER   This deal requires one thing: not giving in to the irresistible woman across the negotiating table—only from USA TODAY bestselling author Naima Simone.   An Off-Limits Merger is the second book in author Naima Simone’s girl’s trip duet with the soon-to-be-defunct Harlequin Desire. It is a forbidden romance mingled with a secret relationship book, with the tiniest smidge of…

[fuzzynecromancer]

The inkstain joke always gets me.

Hello Mr.Gaiman

I really like good omens but my question is about one of the short stories you wrote called (take a deep breath) Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Secret House of the Night of the Dread Desire from Fragile Things. I want to know why you wrote it.

Thanks

For fun, mostly. I loved the idea of a world in which every Gothic cliche was a thing.

[rqnarok]

dbf!logan ‘just the tip’ howlett.

cws/tags: smut, mdni! dbf!logan. daddy kink. unspecified age gap. unprotected p in v.

The clock almost strikes eight in the morning when the both of you are still lazily lying around on Logan’s bed, smelling like sex and secrets.

Forbidden—but you and him are too drowned in the intoxicated water to reach back into the surface.

Neither of you cares about anything else anymore.

“I can’t,” You whine at him, jutting your lips to a pout, your eyes trailing your eyes into his hard length in front of you, “‘M gonna - have to go home.” 

“C’mon, sweets,” He pleads as he palms your naked breasts in his large palms, rolling the peaking nipples in between his fingers, “How ‘bout just the tip, baby? Jus’ give Daddy a little taste, yeah?” 

You should’ve known that Logan’s older than that myth—that card to corrupt your innocence—but his guilt is buried deep by his desire, his primal need to have you that leaves him with little to no restraints.

Your doe-eyes is the only sign that he needs. 

A mark for your submission sent him spiraling that he had to bite his left cheek to hide his smugness.

Logan’s too old for this shit.

”O-okay,” You reply in a nod, meek and quiet, “But jus’ the tip, promise?” 

Logan doesn’t care if he’s too old. 

“‘Promise, baby.” Logan murmurs as he locks his pinky with yours. 

Logan is the biggest fuckin’ liar. 

“H-ah! More!” He’s got you on all fours, your saliva drips onto his pillows as you lost your energy to keep yourself up while Logan fucks you from the back. 

He grips your sides and uses his strength to manhandle your body back and front to his hard cock.

“So good f’r Daddy, sweetheart.” He groans so deep he barely recognizes his own voice, “So fuckin’ good, baby.” 

You are getting impatient with how he’s torturing you by drawing his length so deliberately slow so he can watch your velvet walls gripping him—before thumping it back in. Logan’s never satisfied until his hips are pressed flush to the fast of your ass.

Then, he repeats the process—snapping his hips forward, leaving you moaning out a high-pitched noise as your hands uselessly clutch at the sheets. 

Logan watches with pride as he knows that he’s the one who’s able to make you feel like this. The only one. 

He bends forward, his broad figure covering your trembling back, “Tha’ my girl. So fuckin’ sweet for your old man.” The head of his cock ruts along that gummy spot inside of you, “Now, wha’ dya say to Daddy?” 

Logan hears a weak muffled answer from when your head is buried.

“Hmm? Wha’s that, baby?” 

Gently, he cups your chin to tip your head just enough so he could hear your reply.

He hears a hiccuped sob—then—“Than’ you, Daddy.”

A throaty chuckle comes out of him as he presses a kiss on your messy hair, “Wha’ a good doll y’are.

Something in the way he manhandles you—the way this feels so taboo—makes your body spasm in his hold—toes curling as you reach your peak.

Logan tightens his grip around you when he feels how your warm walls are squeezing him. 

You both feel like living in an utterly different world in this euphoria that washes over the room. 

Suddenly this is the only home you’ve ever known.

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire 7

Summary: He’s hunting you, even after time passes, and you think you’re free, he never stops hunting you.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Human hunting, past kidnapping, injuries, blood, guns, shooting, non-con, smut, pv, murder, descriptions of death, stalking, descriptions of death, death, non-religious beliefs of after death, Logan Howlett (Individual warnings per chapter)

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @cellyx33 @chxrrybomb22 @bitchidontpost

Word Count: 2329 (Find all chapters here)

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

P.P.S. I wrote this really fast cause I wanted to get FSD over with.

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire.

You don’t know what you expected when he said hunting, but it wasn’t this.

You had woken up sooner than he expected you to, so he was still out running errands. The only reason you knew that was because after yelling and screaming off the top of your lungs for thirty minutes, there was no response.

You sniffle, holding back tears, which you were honestly embarrassed about, even if you were the only one in the cabin.

You stretch, and your head throbbed in pain. You weren’t sure what time it was, or how long Logan had been gone, but you needed to get out of there. He didn’t even tie you down to your surprise. Your limbs were completely free. You suppose he expected to be back before you woke up, but you couldn’t waste anymore time.

You step off the bed, every movement hurts every nerve in your body, but you need to run. Placing your hand on the door handle, you prepare yourself to dart straight into the woods, and not stop until you find another person, someone to hopefully save you. Although, you weren’t too sure if someone would freak out and hand you over the second they see Wolverine on your tail. Nobody wants 3-6 long sharp claws lodged inside their throat.

You know the second you open the door, a notification will be sent to his phone, telling him the ‘backdoor’ has been opened. To which he would come home as soon as he saw it.

So the plan was to just dart outside, hope the snow isn’t too thick anymore, and run. And you aren’t too sure what happened, but instead of darting into the woods, you freeze in the doorframe. There was basically a fucking blizzard outside. The wind was howling, the sound of air and the door alarm were both filling your ears and crowding your brain.

Then your stomach drops.

The sound of his truck rolling into the driveway was enough to get you running, straight into the woods, and only then do you realise your feet were completely naked, no shoes. You skin was only covered by your thin black socks, which were quickly bundling up snow on the fabric with each step you took.

You were sure he was already chasing you, the only difference between the two of you is he was sure to be wearing clothes more suitable for the weather, whereas you were in socks and an oversized shirt, the rest of you uncovered and free to the cold as you ran.

Then you hear a clicking sound. Followed by a loud boom and wood chips from the tree you just ran by blowing into your face.

“Shit!” You scream, protecting your face with your hands. He has the fucking hunting rifle. You realise, but you don’t stop running.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Y/N.” You remember his words as adrenaline runs through your body. “Then I’ll take you hunting, I’m sure you’ll have fun.” It felt like a kiss from a cactus when he pressed his lips to your cheek. “Behave.”

Hunting.

You replay the word in your head.

He’s hunting you.

But there was no time to think. There was another boom, a sharp pain grazing your skin as you leaped a little to your side, surprising yourself as you kept your balance. Your heart was racing, adrenaline keeping the blistering pain of the cold away from your feet and the painful drip of blood on your leg out of your brain. You didn’t have time to process the pain, not when you had an animal chasing you with a shotgun. And he seemed pretty intent on killing you.

You turn, hoping to lose him through some trees, and it seems to work as you hear the patter of his shoes crunching snow start to slow down. He was searching for you. No.

He was smelling for you.

You bend down, grabbing some snow with your hand quickly to wipe the blood off of your skin while still skipping, never stopping your movements as you quickly but quietly run past him.

If you had any luck finding another person, it would be down the driveway to the house. It would be a long run, but it was your best bet.

The cabin comes back into view, its shape taunting you as you get closer and closer, but you don’t run inside. You run around the side of the house, and you make your way to dark down the driveway until you would reach a main road.

But again.

You stop. Staring at the key in the engine of his truck with the door sitting open. He must’ve left it like that when he saw the notification on his phone, his priority was to find you.

You make a line for the truck, the gas tank was about half full and it was still running. Closing the door and pulling it out of park, you reverse and quickly drive down the little road leading up to the house.

You made it.

It wasn’t nearly as painful or hard as you expected it to be. You actually made it. You got away from him.

Crying happy tears, you make your way down the twisted road, the snow slightly blocking your vision but you don’t care, you weren’t stopping for anything.

Not even the man in his red flannel as he jumps out onto the road, colliding with the front of the truck, making you slam on the breaks, hoping you didn’t run over some random dude.

Then he stands up, and brings his rifle into view, shooting a clear round straight through the windshield, and you duck just in time, already pressing down on the gas again without looking out at the dirt road until you were sure it was safe to. Looking in the rear view mirror, he was standing there, the most defeated look you’ve ever seen written on his face as he breathed heavily, soon turning to walk back up to the house.

There was no way he would just let you go, right?

7 months had passed.

You hadn’t seen Logan since the day at the cabin, and you haven’t even gotten rid of his truck. It was still sitting in the garage of your new home, occasionally being worked on by your fiance.

Xavier has tried getting ahold of you a few times, wondering what’s going on and why you want nothing to do with the X mansion suddenly, but you don’t bother answering any questions, instead, you hang up, blocking the number and forgetting about him completely.

You had better things in life now to deal with.

A minimum wage job as a barista, serving coffee to people rude and nice, a simple, cheap apartment, right next to just about the noisiest neighbour. A cat, his name is Gus, and he absolutely hates anything you do, knocking everything you place on the counter down onto the ground, including coffee, which quickly stains the carpet, making you have to get onto your knees, scrubbing the living hell out of the carpet to avoid fees. Your fiance was unemployed, and you weren’t exactly sure how the fuck you were even affording the apartment anymore. He would just stay home on the couch, watching TV and occasionally being nice enough to buy groceries and make you dinner.

Yea. Sometimes you wish you had stayed with Logan. Of course, you’d probably still be 3 months pregnant. But at least you’d be better off living. And Logan likes to work, so he definitely wouldn’t be sitting on the couch watching football while you’re cooking dinner after a 12-hour shift and a rude 70-year-old customer who covered you in the ‘wrong coffee.’

Now you were in the shower, letting warm water run down your body. It wouldn’t be a long shower of course, considering Jake had already wasted a shit ton of hot water on his own shower, no having any consideration for the bill.

And as you’re in your head, not a single thought running through your brain, you’re suddenly pulled out. A crashing sound of something falling over is what catches your attention, making you turn off the water in the shower.

“Jake?” You call out. No answer. You groan, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around your body before pulling the door open. “Jake? What happened? What did you drop?” Still no answer. You step out further, and you don’t see anything. Everything's in place except for the lamp on the side of the bed where Jake was lying down before you got in the shower. You assume that’s what had fallen.

You walk around the side of the bed, expecting to see Gus lying there with a broken lamp. That cat was an ass, but he was still your baby.

Except that’s not at all what you see when you walk around the bed.

Instead, Jake is lying on the floor. The cord of the lamp tied so tight around his throat that his skin was plumping up and turning red, a few more minutes and his head would surely pop off. But that isn’t what had you scared. The jaw dropping discovery was the three stab marks, each lined up on his abdomen, blood seeping through his clothes and onto the carpet. Even in death, he was still a fucking pain.

“Not the time for jokes.” You tell yourself, then quickly grab whatever clothes your hands find first, you have to get out of there.

He found you.

“You’re in a rush.” You freeze, not even getting the chance to drop your towel as his familiar voice rings in your ears. “It’s not because of me, is it?” In the corner of your eye, he approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “Right?” You shake your head, goosebumps running through your skin as he whispers against your ear. “Good.” He groans, his body pushing yours against the dresser. “It’s been a while. Didn’t you miss me?” He turns you around, making you face him, and you bite your lip, too scared to answer. “How about… A welcome back gift? Just for me?” His hands move up, fingers grabbing the ends of the towel still wrapped around your body in an attempt to pull it down, but you finally move, grabbing his wrists firmly to stop him. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.” He growls, shaking your hands off of him before finally ripping the towel off your body. “You’ve gotten chubby…” His hands move to cup your ass, and he lifts you against him, forcing your legs around his waist before he walks you over to the bed, throwing you onto the mattress.

You watch as he wordlessly undoes his jeans, pulling down the zipper and unbuttoning the denim with urgency before quickly moving between your legs, not even bothering to undress completely. He wanted you to feel exposed.

He lifts your hips, and waste no time as he pushes inside of you, a pained moan coming from your throat as he quickly begins thrusting inside of you, groans and curses spilling from his lips as one of his hands holds your throat and the other keeps you still.

“That’s it baby, fuck such a good girl.” He mutters, hips still rocking into yours.

Your hands find his, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he squeezes your throat, leaving little to no room for breathing.

He thrusts harder and faster as you try urging him to stop, and his other hand moves from your hip to the matress, his knuckles pressed flat on the bed as he rams into you, his speed increasing as he feels your walls clench around his cock. Your eyes rolling in your head as it rolls back, the movements painful from the loss of oxygen as your face turns red and you begin to lose consciousness. But he doesn’t stop, he just moves faster into you, pumping with no remorse. He only wanted to get back at you, he was mad at you for running, but you’d be dead if you hadn’t those 6 months ago.

“L-Lo-gan.” You cough out his name, the supply of air to your lungs now completely gone. All that was left was the blood in your chest and the air in your veins which was also quickly being taken from you.

“Shut the fuck up…” He groans, and his hips begin to stagger, his movements becoming less urgent as he finishes, his seed spilling inside of you as he also forces you to cum, and you hear the sound of metal as his claws suddenly shoot through your mattress, leaving 3 holes beside your head, but that was the least of your worries.

You were more worried if he was going to stop.

When you were dead that is.

Your eyes face into a black state of unconsciousness, your body spasming underneath his as your body tries hard, fighting to breathe, but no supply comes as his fingers wrap tighter around your throat, trapping you in a breathless state.

It wouldn’t matter if you had died, and it didn’t  matter to you what he did to your body when you were dead. All that was running through your mind is what would’ve happened if you didn’t run.

If you had just behaved, would he had still left you alive?

Would he love you, and treat you like you were actually his romantic partner?

Or would none of that matter…?

You wonder.

Choking on nothing as your eyes finally close, and you drift into unconsciousness.

Then there’s nothing.

Not even a black void of incomprehension.

No screaming souls, gate to heaven, or depths of hell.

There’s nothing.

Something not even the most complicated cerebrum of any human biology would ever be able to comprehend.

You were dead.

[seductive-suffering]

I’ll see you every time, for what you truly are.

I’ll watch as you walk by pretending you don’t remember.

But I’ll never forget.

I’m still consumed by the feelings of your hands on mine, your lips so aggressively into me.

The weight of all of you on top of the frame of all of me.

I wonder when you see me what goes through your head.

Are you counting the seconds the minutes?

Do you wish you were with me again. 

[dilf-docs]

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

part: I / II

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-" 

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes. 

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.