#Forbidden Secret Desire

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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.

[seductive-suffering]

You’re gonna think of me.

In light of day, or under the dark of night.

You’ll lose time thinking about my hair.

Maybe my smile.

The way my lips look when I laugh.

How I make you question everything.

Your gonna think of me.

Even if it makes you scared.

Even if you question life, love and longing.

[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!

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[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.

〰️〰️〰️〰️

[httpscomorg]

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…

[rosesradio]

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

[httpscomorg]

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.

[sinful-tales]

Did any whispers of mischief dance through your cute little mind today, or...

am I alone in the storm...

[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.

[anantaru]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ how they kiss you — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

genre. fem! reader, making out (quite sexual), body fondling, established relationship

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

there's always a subtle silence before you happen to feel it— you know? the way zayne watches your lips like he's studying anatomy again— not clinically, silly! but reverently, like he might carve the shape of your mouth into his memory.

so precise, so devout, it borders on madness. soaked in tension and lust— quite obsessive, don't you agree? almost grotesque in how deeply he desired you.

the man leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost over your skin as he abruptly stops, catching himself in the same course of action he tends to take, every damn time.

zayne held himself back like the act of restraint was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into you completely, succumbing to those pretty, warm lips of yours as something deep inside of him broke that night.

he's going deeper before pressing into your lips at last— his psyche, his shadows, the way the hunger on his tongue felt different than anyone else's as he cups your face like he's afraid of shattering it, mouth crashing into yours.

not messy, not wild, instead, devastatingly precise— and every stroke of his warm muscle felt like it's been rehearsed in secret, fantasized about in sinful dreams as his hand slides down your throat, thumb resting on your pulse like he's checking it— not for medical reasons, but for control.

the kiss deepens and sharpens at the edges of each lap and suckle of your bottom lip between his teeth as his body presses you to the nearest surface with a force just edging on subtle bruising— and when your fingers suddenly thread into his hair to taste him more, when you pull him harder into you— he groans low, a sound rattling from somewhere hidden and forbidden, yes, like something sacred within him was being exposed.

and well, in that exposé, zayne finds a terrible, exquisite relief in each slip and slide of your tongues intertwining, bodies stroking each other as though this was the only way he's ever known how to feel alive.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier touches you first— although not to grope, yet to ground himself with his palm on your shaking hip while his other hand brushes against your soft cheek, and that look on him which was revealed next haunted you— like he's seeing a future he doesn’t believe he deserves.

slow, searching, his lips coax across your bottom lip, the tension behind each suckle on it unbearable as he continues to trace yours like he's adamant to make it everlasting. your boyfriend grunted like restraint stretched thin inside his frame, like one more kiss might tip him over the edge into something more, well, feral? ugh, but he holds himself back of course. 

yet just barely.

those kisses you shared weren't just random pecks here and there, they felt like confessions, truly, like a collapse of two loving hearts forming a dance of possession— each movement sharpening to the truth of what this relationship meant to him, all of it rooted in desire and lust, shadowed with emotional gravity and physical intensity of hands squeezing your flesh.

and you felt it, all of it— the tremble in his fingers, the quiet threat of his teeth brushing just behind every soft tug at your lip, as though even the smallest motion could unravel him further.

you arch into him, obediently feeling the low, guttural sound that escaped his throat— a half moan, a sound so faint it could almost be mistaken for a prayer, whispered to no god at all, but to the madness he cannot escape.

your lips stay close at all times, breathing hard against each other with foreheads pressed together, "i don't want to hurt you," his voice, thick with restraint, was taken hostage somewhere between a confession and collapse, yet his hands disobey him at last— sliding beneath your shirt with a quiet desperation, mapping the ridges of your shape like he's meant to be.

truly, if you let him keep going with those addictive kisses, he'll worship you until he forgets where he ends and you begin.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

hands in your hair, rafayel's lips were already open and panting, breath warm and uneven and jaw slacked, well, it's all then and there with no waiting, no warning— just the sudden, dizzying sensation of being devoured by the man you loved.

his tongue was everywhere on you— teasing you, curling and invading your mouth as he moans into your parted lips, pulling your lower lip between his teeth and laughing when you gasp out in slight shock— quite literally, the man loved to push you over the edge, he lived for the sweet, little responses you'd grace him with in return.

from being tangled in your hair to squeezed within your clothes, rafayel slides down further to cup your ass, squeezing the addicting mounds of flesh as you wince into his hold, "ugh, you taste like a bad decision," he smirks, whispering against your mouth, yet already leaning right back in.

before you could even response to him he kisses you harder, deeper, lapping and lapping and lapping his hefty tongue against your own as your hips were grinding against him just enough to make the room spin and your eyes roll back into your skull.

without a doubt, every second with him felt like falling and screaming and shattering all at once— fast at that, disoriented and inevitable when all you needed is for him to imbed you with his scent until there was nothing left of you to claim.

it's there when you realize that rafayel tasted like the sweetest sin that has ever existed, not kissing to seduce, but to ruin— and make sure you’re begging him for it.

for a slight second he pulls away just enough to look at your lips and what he's done to them— and would you look at that? your boyfriend adored the lusting sight of swollen, glistening, needy lips parted and puffed up, "baby, you're gonna be the death of me."

rafayel says it like it's a promise.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you can’t call this a kiss— no, not with the way sylus's mouth drags across yours like he's already lost the war against wanting you.

to call it a claim would be closer though, but even that sounds too civilized. there is nothing civil about the way his tongue parts your lips— wet, scorching, impatient, nothing gentle in the sting of his teeth catching your mouth, just enough to pull breath from your lungs and copper to your tongue.

he tastes it— even better, tastes you— and it makes something violent bloom in his chest as he growls out embarrassingly loud, not like an animal but like a man who's tasted divinity and was furious that he ever lived without it in the past.

his grip on your hips tighten as he drags you against him, feeling you up like shame didn't exist in his vocabulary, in fact, it quite literally didn't.

not a flicker of hesitation, not even the illusion of pause— only the dreadful inevitability of a hunger given form around his tongue, his lips moving with the certainty of something long premeditated, as if his body had been waiting its entire life for permission to devour you.

he doesn’t ask for allowance to be rougher, sylus knows he doesn’t need to.

his mouth licks into yours with a frenzied rhythm, like he’s trying to bury every unspeakable thought inside your throat as every shove, every bitten gasp, every ragged exhale that leaves his body was a hidden confession disguised as a dominating sin.

the man was not delicate. he was not kind. but he was true.

terrifyingly, brutally true.

furthermore, his tongue traces a wet line from your bottom lip, creeping toward your jaw, then dipping lower to your neck— infused with desperation and something dangerously raw.

his teeth find your skin at last— not out of need, no, but out of some dark impulse deep hidden beneath his heart, as if marking you up was the only act left that can prove he existed, that he's here, tethered to a body that's already unraveling.

"you have no fucking idea," he pants, his breath a jagged rhythm against your skin as if the act of inhaling and exhaling was the only thing that kept him secured— each exhalation a tremor, a faint admission of the madness threatening to spill over.

he smirks, "what you’ve done to me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

in the language of a yearning man, caleb doesn't speak— instead the silence clung to him like a second skin, as if words would shatter whatever fragile shell still held him upright.

as an alternative, his hands found your waist as he exhales deeply from his mouth when he feels your body— yet tentative at first, but with a pressure that deepens and sharpens, afterwards he leans in to kiss you.

not in a haste, no, not like a man chasing basic pleasure, but like a man aching with his mouth against yours— slow, burning, unbearably tender.

his lips taste of quiet torment, of years spent repressing the thing now trembling beneath his touch and the longer it goes on, the more unraveled he becomes— now here, his breath falters, his jaw tenses and when his tongue brushes up against your own needy one, it is with such aching slowness that it felt like a sin.

he grips your jaw softly, almost fearfully, as if he cannot believe you're letting him touch you as his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your pants— fingertips skimming over your bare flesh and squeezing at it like he's utterly worshipping you.

more and more, you want more but the kiss breaks open, becoming wet and open-mouthed, desperate and messy and ugh— caleb cannot stop and neither can you, even less when you whine at him all quietly and overstimulated, the kind of sound which made a man fall on his knees.

okay, he should pull away, correct? uh, before you'll both be unable to stop and take it further, you see the truth in that?

well, he doesn’t.

and neither do you.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[ilovejb]

| Untouched territory |

Pairing : Lewis Pullman x female!reader

Summary : A summer lake reunion sparks unexpected and forbidden feelings with your brother's best friend.

Warnings : SMUT, porn with plot MDI also brothers best friend Lewis

Authors note : lewis pullman it seems I’ve grown quite fond of you though there are (incredibly powerful) sexual urges & desires you come to me as a long lost friend whom I once picked apples with at papa’s orchard

The familiar scent of pine and lake water hits you the moment you step out of your car. It’s the same every year, this pilgrimage to your family’s lake house, a comforting constant in your often-chaotic life. This year feels a little different, though. Your older brother is hosting a chill reunion with a few of his closest friends from college. And Lewis is coming.

Lewis Pullman. Your brother’s best friend.

The boy who’s unknowingly occupied a significant corner of your teenage heart. You haven’t seen him in over four years, not since his acting career really took off, pulling him into a different orbit.

Your brother greets you with a bear hug, his usual boisterous energy filling the porch. “You made it! Lewis and Mark are already here, down by the dock.”

Your stomach does a little flip. You hadn’t realized he’d arrived so soon. Trying to appear casual, you sling your duffel bag over your shoulder. “Great. I’ll go say hi.”

He’s leaning against the weathered railing of the dock, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the water. He’s taller than you remember, broader in the shoulders. His dark hair is a little longer, and a hint of scruff shadows his jaw. He looks… different. More grounded, perhaps.

He turns as he hears you approach, and his expression softens into a genuine smile. “You. Wow.” His voice is deeper, a low rumble that sends a surprising shiver down your spine. “You look different… in a good way.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks. “Lewis. It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” he agrees, his gaze lingering for a beat longer than strictly necessary. It’s a small thing, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. Your pulse quickens slightly. It’s been years, but that familiar flutter in your chest… it’s undeniably there. Fifteen-year-old you, with your awkward crush and secret fantasies, would be losing her mind right now. Mid-twenties you are trying to play it cool, but the awareness is definitely present.

The weekend unfolds with a comfortable rhythm. Group dinners filled with old stories and laughter, lazy afternoons spent on the boat, the quiet camaraderie of movie nights. You find yourself easily falling back into conversation with Lewis. He asks you about your work, your life, treating you with a level of respect and genuine interest you hadn’t always experienced when you were just “your brother’s little sister.” That’s a noticeable shift, and honestly, it’s… nice. Electric, even. He listens intently when you talk about your graphic design work, asking thoughtful questions. He remembers little anecdotes you’d almost forgotten from years ago, weaving them into your current conversations. It makes you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you haven’t in a long time.

One evening, reaching for a can of sparkling water in the crowded fridge, your fingers brush. A jolt, unexpected and electric, shoots up your arm. Lewis’s eyes meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing between you before he smoothly retrieves the can you’d been reaching for. “Here,” he says, his voice a touch rough, his fingers lingering on yours for a fleeting second as he hands it over. Your breath hitches. It’s such a small thing, but the awareness between you feels suddenly magnified.

Later, struggling to open a stubborn jar of pickles during lunch prep, Lewis steps in without a word. He stands close, his arm brushing yours as he effortlessly twists the lid. The scent of his soap, clean and slightly woodsy, fills your senses. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, the solid presence of his body just inches away. Your focus drifts from the jar to the way his muscles flex in his forearm as he grips the lid.

One sweltering afternoon, after a swim in the lake, you come out of the water wrapped in a large t-shirt and shorts. You catch Lewis watching you from the dock, his gaze lingering on your legs for a moment before flicking up to meet your eyes. There’s a warmth in his expression that makes your breath catch. He doesn’t look away immediately; there’s a lingering quality to his gaze that feels… different. Almost possessive, though you immediately dismiss that thought as wishful thinking. Still, the heat rises in your cheeks, a blush you try to subtly hide by turning away to grab a towel.

The comfortable rhythm of the lake house weekend continues, but now there's an undercurrent, a subtle shift in the air whenever you and Lewis are near. His glances linger a fraction longer, his smiles feel a touch more personal. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the sound of his laughter, the way his t-shirt stretches across his shoulders. It's a delicious kind of torture, this proximity to someone you've secretly admired for so long, especially now that he seems to be seeing you in a new light.

One evening, the group decides on a bonfire by the lake. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on everyone’s faces as stories and jokes are shared. You’re sitting slightly apart, perched on a fallen log, and you feel Lewis’s gaze on you more than once from across the small gathering. During a lull in the conversation, your eyes meet, and there’s a shared, almost conspiratorial smile that passes between you. It sends a little thrill through you.

Later, as the fire dies down and the others head inside, you linger by the water’s edge, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the flames. You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Lewis.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice quiet in the stillness of the night.

“Something like that,” you reply, looking out at the moon’s reflection on the lake.

He comes to stand beside you, a comfortable silence settling between you. Then, he breaks it. “This place… it hasn’t changed much.”

“No,” you agree. “It’s always felt like coming home.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Some things stay the same, no matter what else changes.”

His gaze flicks to you, and you feel that familiar heat rising in your cheeks.

Then comes Saturday night. Mark and your brother, along with Sarah, Mark’s girlfriend, decide to drive into town for live music at a local bar. You plead a headache, wanting the quiet solitude of the lake house, a break from the subtle tension that’s been building. Surprisingly, Lewis also opts to stay behind.

You find him sitting on the dock, the only sound the gentle lapping of water against the pilings. You walk over and sit beside him, the wooden planks cool beneath you. Your shoulders are close, not quite touching, but the potential is there, a tangible energy in the small space between you.

You fall into an easy conversation, talking about the strange passage of time, the surreal nature of his fame, your quiet life as a graphic designer. He asks about your aspirations, your creative process, showing a genuine curiosity that makes you feel valued. You reminisce about your childhoods, the blurry memories of past lake house summers, the silly pranks your brother used to play, the time Lewis tried to teach you how to skip stones properly.

Then, Lewis turns to you, his gaze serious, the moonlight highlighting the angles of his face. “You know,” he says quietly, his voice a low murmur that seems to carry only to you across the water, “I almost didn’t come this weekend.”

You frown, turning to face him fully. “Why not?”

He hesitates, his eyes searching yours in the soft glow of the moon. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that you haven’t seen before. “Didn’t trust myself to be around you this grown up.”

The air thickens, the comfortable camaraderie of the past few days shifting into something charged and unfamiliar. Your heart hammers against your ribs. You swallow, trying to find your voice.

“Do you always flirt with your best friend’s sister, Lewis?” you ask, the question hanging in the night air, a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity.

A slow smile spreads across his face, a genuine, slightly mischievous curve of his lips that makes your stomach flip. “Only when she flirts back.”

The silence that follows your question hangs heavy, charged with unspoken desires and years of suppressed feelings. The only sound is the gentle lapping of the lake against the dock. Lewis’s gaze intensifies, his eyes dark in the moonlight, and you feel a pull towards him, a magnetic force that seems to defy the years and the awkwardness of his being your brother’s best friend.

He reaches out, his hand moving slowly, deliberately, as if giving you ample time to pull away. His fingertips brush against your cheek, the contact sending a jolt of heat through you. You don’t move. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, the pad of his finger soft against your skin. Your breath hitches, and you find yourself leaning almost imperceptibly into his touch.

“Y/N…” he murmurs, your name a low, husky sound that vibrates through you. He leans closer, his breath warm against your ear.

“I’ve thought about this… about you… for a long time.”

The confession hangs in the air, raw and honest. Your own carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. You’ve replayed moments like this in your head countless times over the years, but the reality of his nearness, the intensity in his eyes, is far more potent than any fantasy.

Without conscious thought, you lean in, your lips finding his. The kiss is soft at first, a tentative exploration, a silent question. Then, as if a dam has finally broken, it deepens, becoming urgent, hungry. His hand cups your face, his thumb pressing into your cheekbone as his tongue slides against yours. A shiver runs down your spine, a mixture of nervousness and a desperate longing finally being acknowledged.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged. “Let’s… let’s go inside,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply stands and offers you his hand. Your fingers intertwine, and the simple act of holding his hand feels electric.

Inside the quiet lake house, the echoes of earlier laughter seem distant. He leads you, not to the main living area, but towards the small guesthouse, a detached building usually reserved for extra guests, a place where you might have a little more privacy. The air in the guesthouse feels thick with unspoken anticipation.

He turns to face you, his eyes dark and intent, pupils dilated. He reaches out again, this time to gently pull you closer until your bodies are almost touching, the heat radiating between you palpable. He cups the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair.

His next kiss is less hesitant, more demanding, a claiming. Your own hands find their way to his chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart beneath his t-shirt. You pull him closer, wanting to erase the space between you. He groans softly against your lips.

He trails kisses down your neck, the rough stubble of his jaw scraping lightly against your skin, sending shivers of pleasure through you. You arch your back, your grip tightening on his shirt. “Lewis,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and need.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, filled with a raw hunger. “Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and husky, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

“God, yes,” you breathe, reaching up to pull his mouth back to yours.

The urgency escalates. His hands roam your body, his touch becoming more insistent. He cups your breasts through your shirt, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them tighten instantly. You moan softly, the sound lost in the deepening kiss.

He fumbles with the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze drops to your bare chest, and you see a flash of raw desire in his eyes. He reaches out, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone, then lower, to the swell of your breasts. His touch is both reverent and possessive.

You reach for his shirt, your fingers clumsy with wanting, and pull it over his head. The sight of his bare chest, the defined muscles, the dusting of hair, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. You press yourself against him, skin on skin, the friction sending sparks flying.

He lifts you, his hands gripping your thighs, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you a few steps until the back of your legs hit the edge of the narrow bed. He doesn’t break the kiss, his mouth still fused to yours as he gently pushes you back until you’re lying down.

He breaks away, his eyes locked on yours, both filled with a desperate longing. He reaches down and roughly shucks off his jeans, his gaze never leaving yours. The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your breath catch in your throat.

He kneels between your legs, his hands framing your face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice thick with lust.

He lowers his head, his mouth finding yours again, and at the same time, his hand slides down your body, over your stomach, lower, until his fingers find the wet heat between your legs. You gasp against his lips, your hips lifting instinctively.

His fingers begin to move, teasing, exploring, and a moan escapes your lips. The sensation is intense, overwhelming, a culmination of years of unspoken desire finally finding release. He continues to kiss you, his fingers working their magic, and the tension that has been building for days, for years, finally shatters.

His fingers continue their intimate exploration, and you arch against his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The sensations are raw, primal, each stroke sending a wave of heat through you. He watches your face intently, his eyes filled with a possessive hunger.

He leans down, his lips leaving yours to trail kisses down your throat, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. The urgency between you is palpable, a desperate need to connect on a deeper, more physical level.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs. You watch as he reaches for protection from the nightstand, his gaze never leaving yours. The anticipation builds, a tight knot of desire in your belly.

When he finally enters you, the sensation is intense, a deep, visceral connection that makes you cry out softly. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged. “God, you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with passion.

He begins to move, slowly at first, then with increasing intensity. You meet his rhythm, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts. The small bed creaks beneath you, the only sounds your ragged breathing and the soft sounds of skin against skin.

Each movement is a revelation, a physical manifestation of the longing that has simmered between you for so long. His hands grip your hips, guiding your movements, his eyes locked on yours, a silent language passing between you.

You clench around him, the pleasure building, spiraling. He groans, his body tensing. You feel the heat radiating off him, the frantic beat of his heart against yours. The world narrows to just the two of you, this intense, intimate connection.

The climax hits you in waves, a series of shuddering contractions that grip you tightly. You cry out, your nails digging into his back. He follows quickly after, his movements becoming more frantic, a guttural sound escaping his throat as he spills himself deep inside you.

He collapses against you, his weight heavy, his breathing still ragged. You hold him close, the feeling of him inside you a profound intimacy. The silence that follows is thick with the aftermath, a sated quietude.

He eventually shifts, rolling onto his side but keeping you close, his arm wrapped around your waist. He brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle. He looks down at you, his eyes soft, a tenderness you haven’t seen before.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, your name a soft sigh against your skin. He kisses your temple, a lingering, tender touch. He doesn’t leave. He stays, his body pressed against yours, the comfortable weight of him a reassuring presence.

He threads his fingers through your hair, his touch soothing. You lie there in comfortable silence for a long moment, the shared intimacy a palpable bond between you.

“God,” he whispers finally, breaking the silence, his voice low and husky. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You turn your head, meeting his gaze. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a raw honesty that mirrors your own feelings. “Me too, Lewis,” you reply softly.

He smiles, a genuine, unguarded smile that reaches his eyes. He leans down and kisses you again, a slow, tender kiss that speaks volumes.

The morning after feels different. The air in the guesthouse is thick with a new kind of intimacy, a comfortable silence that hums with unspoken understanding. Lewis is still beside you, his arm draped possessively across your waist. You wake slowly, the memory of the night before flooding back in vivid detail, a warmth spreading through you.

He stirs as you shift, his eyes fluttering open. He looks at you, a soft smile gracing his lips, and reaches out to gently brush your cheek. There’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

But the bubble of your private world feels fragile. The reality of your brother, his best friend, and the potential fallout looms. Later, back in the main house, the atmosphere feels subtly altered.

Your brother’s glances towards Lewis are sharper, more assessing. There’s a quiet tension in the air during breakfast, a feeling that something unspoken hangs between the three of you.

You catch your brother watching you and Lewis interact, a furrow in his brow. He doesn’t say anything directly, but the unspoken questions are palpable. You feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach.

Lewis, usually so relaxed and easygoing, seems a little more reserved around your brother. He still talks and jokes, but there’s a carefulness in his demeanor that you notice. He avoids lingering gazes with you when your brother is present, a subtle withdrawal that makes you feel a pang of unease.

One afternoon, your brother pulls you aside while Lewis is out on the lake with Mark. “Everything okay with you and Lewis?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes holding a hint of concern.

You hesitate, your mind racing. How much do you reveal? “Yeah, why?” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

He studies your face. “Just… you two seemed pretty close last night by the fire.”

You flush slightly. “We were just catching up. It’s been a while.”

He nods slowly, but you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. “Right. Well, just… look out for yourself, okay?”

His words hang in the air, a subtle warning. You feel a wave of defensiveness wash over you. You’re not some naive kid anymore.

Later that day, you find Lewis alone on the porch, staring out at the lake. You sit beside him, the silence stretching between you.

“He knows something’s different,” you say softly.

Lewis sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I can feel it. Look, I… I care about you, you know that, right?”

You nod, your heart aching slightly at his hesitant tone.

“But your brother… he’s my best friend. I don’t want to screw that up.”

His words feel like a step back. “So, what was last night then?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Just… a mistake?”

He turns to you, his eyes earnest. “No. God, no. It wasn’t a mistake for me. Not at all. But this… it’s complicated.”

You pull away slightly, a familiar feeling of being the “little sister,” the one whose feelings come second, creeping in.

But then, the day before everyone is set to leave, Lewis seeks you out. You’re by the dock again, the place where everything shifted.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his voice quiet but firm.

You nod, your expression guarded.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been an idiot. What happened between us… it wasn’t just a moment. It was real. For me, anyway.” He looks directly into your eyes, and you see a sincerity there that melts some of your apprehension.

“I care about you, more than just my best friend’s little sister. And… last night was… incredible.”

He reaches for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “But I’ve been so focused on not crossing a line with your brother that I haven’t really thought about… us.”

The summer ends, the lake house closing up for another year. You return to your city life, the memory of Lewis a bittersweet ache. Your texts are infrequent, careful.

Then, one rainy Tuesday, you get a call. Lewis is filming a movie a few hours away and has a day off. He asks if you want to visit the set.

Hesitantly, you agree. Stepping onto the bustling set, seeing him in his element, feels surreal. But when he spots you, his smile is just for you, a private acknowledgment that sparks something within you.

Later, in his quiet trailer, away from the controlled chaos, you finally have time alone. The air crackles with the unspoken. He pulls you close, his embrace tight.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmurs, burying his face in your hair.

“Me neither,” you whisper back.

The conversation that follows is raw and honest. You talk about the unexpected intensity of your connection, the uncertainty of navigating it with your brother. He admits he’s been scared, but the thought of not seeing you again is worse.

He kisses you then, a slow, deliberate kiss that seals a silent promise. The stolen glances of summer have finally led to something real, something that feels like it was always meant to be, boundaries be damned.

[httpscomorg]

Me reading the ideas people think are boutta happen in my fic knowing what’s really gonna happen like:

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Xavi didn’t enjoy being an incubus, especially when he was the last one of his kind.

Feeding was a pain, and now he had no one to guide him or gather food for him.

Before becoming an adult, young incubi would eat human food, but now that Xavi had reached maturity, the only thing that would sustain him was having sex with a human.

“How embarrassing…” he murmured, peering into your window. “She’s the only one asleep right now…”

During the day, Xavi disguised himself as a human. He had seen you a few times at the local college he attended with you.

You enticed him with your sweet scent and soft figure. He had never felt so hungry before, was this what being an adult incubus felt like?

Xavi watched you for a few weeks, feeding routinely on your naughty dreams. It was just enough to keep him from starving, but he craved being even closer to you.

His hand moved down your soft tummy. Usually, he tried his best to stay away from humans. After all, he didn’t want to grow attached

However, you were so soft and kind, always helping out your fellow classmates and volunteering to bring homework to people who were sick.

You even smiled at him when he walked to his seat every day. No one ever paid him much attention. Xavi tried his best to be as uninteresting as possible, to blend into the background.

Being an incubus meant his blood was the most valuable aphrodisiac in the world, and having a pair of the incubus horns meant you’d be able to have any woman or man you wanted.

That’s why his entire race had been slaughtered, for their bodies. It hurt to think about, and to keep himself safe, Xavi took up very little space.

Something about you enticed him, however. Maybe it was the smell of your perfume, or the way your hips swayed as you walked.

You were alluring, and that’s why his hand was moving up your shirt while you-

“Xavi?”

He jumped back, his wings extending as he got ready to retreat. You sat up, rubbing your sleepy eyes and yawning. “Xavi… what are you doing in my… room?”

His cheeks turned red as he tried to explain. “W-well you see, I was just-“

“And… you have horns… a tail… are those wings?”

This was it, he’d completely exposed himself to a human. You were going to call the local church and he’d be cut apart!

“Are you okay..?”

Your words stilled his racing heart. “… no, if I’m being honest I’m not okay at all.”

You sat up, stretching a little before patting your bed. Xavi could still see that your eyes were clouded with sleep. “Mmph, tell me all about it.”

For some reason, you felt like a safe person. Xavi spent his entire life keeping his guard up, which meant making friends was forbidden.

So why did he want to tell you all of his secrets, every little thing that was currently bothering him?

Xavi looked down at your soft form, his eyes on the way your nightgown barely covered your breasts. Your bare thighs were a problem too, he could already feel his body beginning to shake with desire.

“(Name)… I need your help.”

You looked up, your eyes still foggy from sleep. “Help..? If it’s about the homework, I’m behind-“

“I’m in your room in the middle of the night, this isn’t about homework.”

He placed a timid hand on your thigh, his entire body tensing when he felt your warmth soaking into his skin.

“Oh… then… what do you need?” you asked, shyly crossing your bare legs. Xavi noticed this, and pulled his hand away.

“Sexual intercourse.”

He said it with a straight face, but Xavi’s heart was pounding and his cheeks were beginning to heat up. You stared at him in shock, your mouth agape as you processed that the quiet guy you waved to every morning was asking to have sex with you.

“Ehem.” he cleared his throat, trying to disguise the fact his face was red and voice was shaky. “As you can tell, I am not human. I am a demon, specifically an incubus. We feed off of life energy, specifically the energy humans exert when having sex.”

“S-so you’ve done this before?” you asked, causing him to sputter.

“N-n-not exactly, no, but…”

Xavi sighed, stretching out his wings and fluttering them. “I’ve done my research. I know the human body better than most.”

In a blink of an eye he was hovering over you, his tail flicking before placing itself between your legs.

“W-what are you-“

He lowered his head, whispering into your ear. “I’ve tasted your dreams, and they’re full of pent up sexual frustration.”

His tail rubbed against your clothed cunt, the end of it pressing against your twitching clit. “You want this just as much as I need it.”

Xavi kissed down your neck, his fangs brushing against your pulse point. “I can relieve all of your tension, and all I need in return is some of your life energy.”

The incubus bit down, his aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins. “There we go, this will loosen your body up,” he murmured, pulling your now soaked panties off.

Your body felt so hot, your mind hazy as he prepped you with his fingers. Xavi looked at your pussy with a mixture of curiosity and lust, taking a tentative sniff before his pupils dilated.

He buried his face between your thighs, latching onto your clit for a bit while his fingers continued to loosen you up.

The man had never fathomed that his body would react instinctively to a female's pheromones, but he was already doing everything as if he had done it a thousand times before.

“There you go, that’s it…”

Your pussy drooled when he pulled back, and he stared up at you with pussy-drunk eyes. If he could, he would have stayed between your legs the entire night.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

His cock rested on your thigh, erect and throbbing. Xavi barely ever touched himself, and now he was just inches away from being buried inside of a woman.

For years, you had wanted to lose your virginity. Thankfully, you weren’t desperate enough to go with any guy, but lately it has been hard to satisfy your needs. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t react much to Xavi’s explanation, and why you were so lax about everything.

He was right, you wanted this so bad it almost hurt.

“P-please…”

Xavi was not one to make a lady wait.

He held onto your thighs, his tail flicking your clit skillfully as his cock sunk into you.

You had played with toys before, trying to prepare for this very moment, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer size and girth. Xavi wasn’t huge, but he could change his shape and length by will.

“Is that a good size for you?” he murmured, testing your endurance with a few light thrusts. “Maybe a bit bigger, hmm?”

His mouth latched onto one of your nipples while his tail continued to play with your clit. Xavi was overstimulating you, bringing you to an orgasm within a few minutes.

Through the next few hours, his cock expanded and shrank, getting longer or shorter to meet your needs at that moment. Despite being a virgin, he was amazing at pleasing a woman.

Being an incubus meant it came natural to him. Sex was how he fed…

Xavi pulled out after a while, his cheeks flushed as he watched his cum pool out of you. Being the smart man he was, he knew that having too many sexual partners may blow his cover.

‘It was nothing to do with liking her,’ he thought, staring at your flustered face. ‘Not… at all.’

He carefully cleaned you up before tucking you back into bed.

“We can do this twice a week… how about Saturday and Wednesday?” he asked, carefully caressing your cheek.

So you formed a contract with a demon… one that would keep you satisfied and happy.

Though… would he want to stop at just having sex with you? Incubi could be rather possessive…

Part 2?

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[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.